"Possibly," said Wilmot, "to a certain extent."
"I have," said Blizzard, "a number of scattered mining interests in Utah. I wish you to travel among them teaching the men in relays to shoot accurately and fast. This can be done without greatly interfering with the working of the mines. You would be nominally under the command of a man named O'Hagan, to whom I have written a letter introducing you, on the chance that you might care to use it."
"Where," said Wilmot smiling, "does the business end of the affair begin? I'm rotten with debts."
"For teaching my men to shoot," said Blizzard, "I will pay you the money that you owe me. That's one debt written off."
"And how shall I live in the meanwhile?"
"I have empowered O'Hagan to pay you five hundred dollars a month."
"And the rest of my debts? How about them?"
"You will fight for down-trodden people," said Blizzard gravely. "If you win, you will find them grateful--possibly beyond the dreams of avarice. In the republic of which we are speaking there is wealth enough for all. It is one of the richest little corners of God's footstool--gold, diamonds, silver. If you succeed you will be on Easy Street. If you fail, you will very likely get a bullet through your head."
Wilmot's face brightened. "If I got killed trying to pay 'em," said he, "my creditors couldn't feel very nasty toward me, could they?"
A look of strong admiration came into Blizzard's hard eyes. "I like the way your mind works," said he. "If you get killed in my service, I'll pay your debts myself."