"Good thing the wind's yowlin' its head off to-night," observed Tip O'Gorman. "I forgot myself for a shake."

Rafe Tuckleton looked at the floor. There was venom in his heart and death in his thoughts.

Tip O'Gorman fingered out the makings.

He was shaking in the tobacco when Billy Wingo opened the door and strode without ceremony into the office. He was followed by Riley Tyler. The latter slammed the door behind him and set his back against it.

"Three li'l friends together," said Billy, his eyes gleaming at them beneath the peak of his fur cap. "I saw your light as I was pa.s.sing, Arthur, and I thought I'd sift in and thank you for all those kind words of yours yesterday. I appreciated 'em, you bet. You too, Rafe, did about as well as could be expected. Tip is the only one I can't thank."

He smiled lazily on Tip. The latter grinned back.

"It ain't my fault you can't," returned Tip cryptically.

Billy nodded, although naturally he did not grasp the other's meaning, and said, "Got another li'l matter for you gentlemen. Finding you all together thisaway is gonna save me trouble. I'm in luck to-night."

"Aw, spit it out!" Rafe directed rudely.

Billy looked pained. "Our long-faced li'l playmate seems all fussed up over something. Well, boys will be boys, I suppose, and burned fingers now and then have got to be expected."

He paused and regarded them gravely. Rafe's answering stare was darkling, the district attorney's uncomfortable, while Tip's was impersonal.

"I hope you boys are feeling generous to-night," resumed Billy.

Rafe Tuckleton stole a glance at O'Gorman. Generous?

"The fact is," went on the calm voice, "I'm takin' up a collection--a collection for Tom Walton's niece, Hazel."

Billy thought that at the mention of the ranchman's name both the district attorney and Tuckleton stiffened their slouching bodies, but he could not be positive. The lamp on the table gave a poor, weak light.

"Her uncle's gettin' downed thisaway will be a bad blow for her. He was all she had. Y'understand now--the girl won't ever know that this is any benefit like. She mustn't ever know. It's insurance on Tom's life, see? Sam Prescott was keepin' the policy for him in his safe.

Tom must have forgot to tell her about it. That's what Sam's going to tell her. How much will you boys give?"

Tip O'Gorman did not hesitate. "You can put us down for a thousand apiece."

"_What!_" chorused the district attorney and Rafe Tuckleton.

The sheriff c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at the two men. "You think it's too little? Well, I guess maybe you're right. A thousand is enough for Tip here, but you two are rich men. Say twice that--two thousand from each of you will be about right."

The two rich men were speechless. But only for a moment.

"Two thousand!" gasped Rafe. "Not a nickel."

"Not a thin dime!" contradicted the district attorney.

"Say not so!" said Billy Wingo.

Tip O'Gorman nodded. "'Say not so,' is right."

Billy looked at the speaker approvingly. "I'm glad Tip agrees with me.

I'll take the money in gold, greenbacks and silver. No drafts."

The district attorney squealed like a stuck pig. "No nothing, you mean! Whadda you think we are?"

"A couple of rascals," was the prompt reply. "And there's a tax on rascals. _That li'l girl has got to be taken care of_."

Billy's voice was earnest. But a sardonic devil looked out of his eyes. He yearned with a great yearning for the district attorney and Rafe Tuckleton to join battle with him. He knew that he could easily take care of both. Tip O'Gorman was the unknown quant.i.ty. One could never be quite sure what Tip was thinking. One thing, Tip was neither a murderer nor a dealer in murder. That had never been Tip's way. And something told Billy that in the present crisis Tip would keep his hands off. The issue lay strictly between Rafe, the district attorney and Billy Wingo.

The district attorney by a great effort recovered his mental balance.

"You are threatening," he b.u.mbled lamely.

"Not a-tall," returned Bill. "I only said you and Rafe are a couple of rascals. What's fairer than that, I'd like to know?"

"It's blackmail--extortion," the district attorney trotted on.

"Blackmail and extortion to subscribe money for the support of a girl whose uncle has been murdered? No, no, you don't mean it, Arthur, old settler. You mean that you and Rafe will be glad to do your parts.

That's what you mean."

"No." Thus Rafe Tuckleton.

"Yes--and again yes. Three times in fact. Rafe, how about that last deal of yours with the Indian agent? Remember it? The agent, y'understand, gets drunk sometimes, and a drunk will talk. Ever thought of that?"

If Rafe had not thought of that, he thought of it now.

"And how about that last bribe you took?" pressed Billy, turning accusingly on the district attorney.

The immediate shrinkage in the form of the district attorney was plainly visible to the naked eye. He went a trifle paler too.

"Do I get the two thousand apiece for Hazel Walton, Arthur?" demanded Billy.

"Why-uh--yes, yes, of course. I'd always intended to contribute. I was just fooling. Yes."

"And you, Rafe?"

Rafe Tuckleton nodded a reluctant head. "I'll pay."

"That's fine," said Billy heartily. "I'll be around to-morrow for the money."

Rafe Tuckleton did not attempt to demur at the shortness of time as he had done with Dan Slike. He recognized the utter futility of arguing with a man like Billy Wingo.

"By the way," said Billy, staring hard at Rafe Tuckleton, "I wonder if it was any part of Dan Slike's plan to kill Miss Walton too?"

Rafe's face went wooden. "How should I know?"

Billy nodded. "I was just wonderin'. No harm in that, I suppose.

Lucky she wasn't there alla same."

"It was lucky," stated Tip O'Gorman. "Do you know I've been doing a li'l wondering myself. Why wasn't she there?"

"She just happened to be visiting the Prescotts'," replied Billy Wingo, his eyes on Rafe's face.