“I’d do anything for old Halfaman, and, as I said, I made him that promise long ago. In his crazy way he imagined that, to win the love of Wing o’ the Crow, it was necessary for him to impress her with his importance. It was his ambition to get a string of good mules and tools and go into partnership with her father—or both of them—for Wing-o is half of the concern as it stands. The best half at that, I imagine.
“So about all there is to the mule story is that I promised to advance him the money to buy a good outfit, taking a mortgage on them as a matter of businesslike self-protection and allowing him to pay me back as the teams made money. Apparently he had in secret talked the matter over with Jeddo the Crow, and unbeknown to his daughter had been offered a partnership if he could deliver the equipment. So he put it up to me, and we decided to spring a pleasant little surprise on Halfaman’s sweetheart—and he at least was arrested for it.”
“What did the outfit cost?” asked Manzanita.
“All together, six thousand seven hundred dollars,” he told her.
“You—you gave—loaned—advanced—Halfaman Daisy six thousand seven hundred dollars!”
“Yes, dear.”
“Wh-where did you get the money?”
“From a Los Angeles bank.”
“But you’re only a—a flunky.”
He laughed gayly. “Yes, only a flunky,” he said. “And a good one, too; ask the stiffs! You see, the deal was to be kept a secret. Unless Daisy lost control of his tongue, Wing-o was not to learn right away where he got the funds to buy the outfit. Now, though, I suppose, everything will come out, and Falcon the Flunky will pass into obscurity.