Burton started, stared at Clancy, and then watched Hill while he knelt down and selected five twenties from the drying bills.
"What are you doing this for?" asked Burton falteringly.
"Just trying to give you a little boost in the right direction."
"I'm not entitled to any of that money!"
"I think you are. You earned something last night. Take the hundred, Burton, and see if you can't be square."
The young fellow's face paled, then the color dyed his cheeks. He stood looking down at the floor, then presently lifted his head and moved slightly toward Clancy and half raised his hand. Then he paused, once more, whirled suddenly, and got out of the room as fast as he could.
Hill had been watching these strange maneuvers in frank amazement. "I reckon he's locoed," he said, as soon as the door had closed behind Burton.
"No," returned Clancy, "his gratitude was trying to express itself, but couldn't quite make it. He has had his lesson, Hiram, and will profit by it."
"He has profited a hundred dollars' worth, anyhow," commented Hill dryly. "This Happy Trail of yours, Clancy, is a mighty queer one, seems to me. For a ways, it follows the one I took in huntin' for dad; then it branches off and points straight toward Gerald Wynn and his gang. Now here we are at the end of it–and you're seventy-five hundred to the good."
Clancy laughed.