ur
wife to-morrow, and tell her why your old man stood by you; shut her
mouth with that choice bit and then tell her--you want the Point!
You've got her cornered, Rivers. She can't escape. If she tries to,
hurl Northrup at her."

Larry wiped his lips with his hot hand.

"I haven't quite finished this," he muttered; "it will take a day or
two."

"Rivers, if you try any funny work on me----" Maclin looked dangerous.
He felt the fear that comes from not trusting those he must use.

"I'm not going to double-cross you, Maclin."

"Here, take a nifter." Maclin pushed the bottle toward Rivers. "You
look all in," he ventured.

"I am, just about."

"Well, after this piece of business, I'll send you off for as long as
you want to stay. You need a change."

Larry revived after a moment or two and some colour crept into his
cheeks.

"I'm going now," Maclin said, getting up and releasing the tools of
Larry's trade. "Better get a good night's rest and be fresh for
to-morrow. A day or so won't count, so long as we understand the game.
Good-night!"

Outside in the darkness Maclin stood still and listened. His iron
nerves were shaken and he had his moment of far vision. If he
succeeded--well! at that thought Maclin felt his blood run riotously
in his veins. Glory! Glory! His name ringing out into fame.

But!--the cold sweat broke over the fat man standing in the dark.
Still, he would not have been the man he was if he permitted doubt to
linger. He _must_ succeed. Right was back of him; with him. Unyielding
Right. It must succeed.

Maclin strode on, picking his way over the ash heaps and broken
bottles. A pale moon was trying to make itself evident, but piles of
black clouds defeated it at every attempt. The wind was changing.
From afar the chapel bell struck its warning. It rang wildly,
gleefully, then sank into silence only to begin once more. Seeking,
seeking a quarter in which it might rest.

Maclin, head down, plunged into the night and reached the road to the
mines. He saw to it that the road was so bad that no one would use it
except from necessity, but he cursed it now. He all but fell several
times, he thanked God--God indeed!--when the lights of the Cosey Bar
came in sight.

He did not often drink of his public whiskey, or drink with his
foreigners, but he chose to do so to-night. His men welcomed him
thickly--they had been wallowing in beer for hours; the man at the bar
drew forth a bottle of whiskey--he kn