"Ding my dogs, Piute! I can't sell that there place no more—she don't belong to me!"
"If he wants it, get an offer. If it's enough, buy it back from Mackintavers!"
Deadoak protested. He was saddle-galled and weary, disconsolate and disgusted, and he had no heart for intrigue. Piute Tomkins goaded him to it, however, and sent him despite protests to the room of Tom Lee.
Fifteen minutes later, Deadoak stumbled downstairs to the office where Piute awaited him. He dropped limply into a chair.
"Well?" snapped Piute.
"Ain't no well—nothin' but a dry hole," mourned Deadoak. "That there chink offered—or rather, I brung him up to offer—five thousand cash for the place. Ding my dogs! If only we hadn't acted so preceptous with that there pilgrim! I ain't never knowed what real remorse was until right now——"
"Well, saddle up an' beat it to Morongo Valley pronto," exclaimed Piute. "Buy back——"
"Not me! I done had enough ridin' to last my mortal lifetime——"
"You're goin', and you're goin' in the morning!" asserted Piute emphatically. "Savvy? See what that there chink found—trail him down! I got no use for yeller men cheatin' honest citizens out o' their rights. You're goin', understand?"
Deadoak assented weakly that he understood. Presently, however, he rallied again.