"By the right of might."
"You cannot trust me, then, an hour?"
"Not a minute. Practically, you are my prisoner."
The ex-outlaw flushed, and his hand sought his hip, but he was covered in a trice by a brace of guns.
"No you don't!" was the cry. "Bring that hand up from there, and bring it up empty, too! Call in your chief clerk and tell him to close the bank and put up a notice!"
"I dare not; the people will mob me if I do that."
At that moment the door opened, and the cashier looked in, taking in the situation.
"A check for thirty thousand dollars, sir!" he said.
"It is yours," said Brown, turning appealingly to Card-Sharp Cale.
"I suppose it is."