"W'y, you lucky fool!" exclaimed L. W. incredulously, his eyes still glued to the roll. "What's the proposition, Rimmy? Say, you know me, Rim!"
"Yeh! Sure I do!" answered Rimrock dryly, and L. W. turned from bronze to a dull red. "I know the whole bunch of you, from the dog robber up, and this time I play my own hand. I was a sucker once, but the only friends I've got now are the ones that stayed with me when I was down."
"But I helped you, Rim!" cried L. W. appealingly. "Didn't I lend you money, time and again?"
"Yes, and here it is," replied Rimrock indifferently as he held out the four yellow bills. "You loaned me money, but you treated me like dirt—now take it or I'll ram it down your throat."
L. W. took the money and stood gnawing his cigar as the train slowed down for Gunsight.
"Say, come over to the bank—I want to speak to you," he said as they dropped off the train.
"Nope, can't stop," answered Rimrock curtly, "got to go and see my friends."
He strode off down the street and L. W. followed after him, beckoning feverishly to every one he met.
"Say, Rimrock's struck it rich!" he announced behind his hand and the procession fell in behind.
Straight down the street Rimrock went to the Alamo where old Hassayamp stood shading his eyes, and while the crowd gathered around them he took Hassayamp's hand and shook it again and again.