His hands, now deep in his trousers pockets, expressed a lively abhorrence for the perfidy of the man Jones.
“This iniquitous demand is no better than blackmail and might be resisted in our courts of justice; but, inasmuch as Mr. Bennett’s sanguinary disposition has brought on us this fresh complication, would it not be well to permit Mr. Bennett to pay this two thousand from his private pocket? I pause for a reply.”
Bennett let out a screech between a howl and a shriek.
“This is infamous! You’re robbing me! Oh, why did I ever have dealings with such desperadoes?”
“Why, indeed?” said Baca tranquilly. “I think, if you will permit me to criticize, that was a mistake in judgment on your part, Mr. Bennett. You have not the temperament for it.”
“He pays!” said Scanlon, gloating.
“He pays!” echoed the rancher.
“You’re robbing me!” Bennett crumpled to a wailing heap.
“We’re not, ye black scut!” snapped Scanlon, perking the unfortunate banker upright by the collar. “But we will! We’re now holding to the exact bargain we proposed and you agreed to; but if ever little Mickey S. has need or desire av the red, red gold or the green, green greenback, ’tis back here he will come to you. May Gawd have mercy on your soul! Sit up, ye spineless jellyfish—sit up!”
Beck, sitting mute in a cold fury of hate, raised his eyes.