Wheaton did not smile; he was very cool and master of the situation.

"I came to see what you want, and it had better not be much."

"Oh, you cheer up, Jim," said Snyder with his ugly grin. "I don't know that you've ever done so much for me. I don't want you to forget that I did time for you once."

"You'd better not rely on that too much. I was a poor little kid and all the mischief I ever knew I learned from you. What is it you want now?"

"Well, Jim, you've seen fit to get me fired from that nice lonesome job you got me, back in the country."

"I had nothing to do with it. The ranch owners sent a man here to represent them and I had nothing more to do with it. The fact is I stretched a point to put you in there. Mr. Saxton has taken the whole matter of the ranch out of my hands."

"Well, I don't know anything about that," said Snyder contemptuously.

"But that don't make any difference. I'm out, and I don't know but I'm glad to be out. That was a fool job; about the lonesomest thing I ever struck. Your friend Saxton didn't seem to take a shine to me; wanted me to go chasing cattle all over the whole Northwest--"

"He flattered you," said Wheaton, a faint smile drawing at the corners of his mouth.

"None of that kind of talk," returned Snyder sharply. "Now what you got to say for yourself?"

"It isn't necessary for me to say anything about myself," said Wheaton coolly. "What I'm going to say is that you've got to get out of here in a hurry and stay out."

Snyder leaned back in his chair and recrossed his legs on the table.

"Don't get funny, Jim. Large bodies move slow. It took me a long time to find you and I don't intend to let go in a hurry."

"I have no more jobs for you; if you stay about here you'll get into trouble. I was a fool to send you to that ranch. I heard about your little round with the sheriff, and the gambling you carried on in the ranch house."

"Well, when you admit you're a fool you're getting on," said Snyder with a chuckle.

"Now I'm going to make you a fair offer; I'll give you one hundred dollars to clear out,--go to Mexico or Canada--"

"Or h.e.l.l or any comfortable place," interrupted Snyder derisively.

"And not come here again," continued Wheaton calmly. "If you do--!"

It was to be a question of bargain and sale, as both men realized.

"Raise your price, Jim," said Snyder. "A hundred wouldn't take me very far."

"Oh yes, it will; I propose buying your ticket myself."

Snyder laughed his ugly laugh.

"Well, you ain't very complimentary. You'd ought to have invited me to your party the other night, Jim. I'd like to have seen you doing stunts as a king. That was the worst,"--he wagged his head and chuckled. "A king, a real king, and your picture put into the papers along of the millionaire's daughter,--well, you may d.a.m.n me!"

"What I'll do," Wheaton went on undisturbed, "is to buy you a ticket to Spokane to-morrow. I'll meet you here and give you your transportation and a hundred dollars in cash. Now that's all I'll do for you, and it's a lot more than you deserve."

"Oh, no it ain't," said Snyder.

"And it's the last I'll ever do."

"Don't be too sure of that. I want five hundred and a regular allowance, say twenty-five dollars a month."

"I don't intend to fool with you," said Wheaton sharply. He rose and picked up his hat. "What I offer you is out of pure kindness; we may as well understand each other. You and I are walking along different lines.

I'd be glad to see you succeed in some honorable business; you're not too old to begin. I can't have you around here. It's out of the question--my giving you a pension. I can't do anything of the kind."

His tone gradually softened; he took on an air of patient magnanimity.

Snyder broke in with a sneer.

"Look here, Jim, don't try the goody-goody business on me. You think you're mighty smooth and you're mighty good and you're gettin' on pretty fast. Your picture in the papers is mighty handsome, and you looked real swell in them fine clothes up at the banker's talkin' to that girl."

"That's another thing," said Wheaton, still standing. "I ought to refuse to do anything for you after that. Getting drunk and attacking me couldn't possibly do you or me any good. It was sheer luck that you weren't turned over to the police."

Snyder chuckled.

"That old preacher gave me a pretty hard jar."

"You ought to be jarred. You're no good. You haven't even been successful in your own particular line of business."

"There ain't nothing against me anywhere," said Snyder, doggedly.

"I have different information," said Wheaton, blandly. "There was the matter of that post-office robbery in Michigan; attempted bank robbery in Wisconsin, and a few little things of that sort scattered through the country, that make a pretty ugly list. But they say you're not very strong in the profession." He smiled an unpleasant smile.

Snyder drew his feet from the table and jumped up with an oath.

"Look here, Jim, if you ain't playin' square with me--"

"I intend playing more than square with you, but I want you to know that I'm not afraid of you; I've taken the trouble to look you up. The Pinkertons have long memories," he said, significantly.

Snyder was visibly impressed, and Wheaton made haste to follow up his advantage.

"You've got to get away from here, Billy, and be in a hurry about it.

How much money have you?"

"Not a red cent."

"What became of that money Mr. Saxton gave you?"

"Well, to tell the truth I owed a few little bills back at Great River and I settled up, like any square man would."

"If you told the truth, you'd say you drank up what you hadn't gambled away." Wheaton moved toward the door.

"At eight to-morrow night."

"Make it two hundred, Jim," whined Snyder.

Wheaton paused in the door; Snyder had followed him. They were the same height as they stood up together.

"That's too much money to trust you with."