"Suppose you showed 'em force. Eh?"
"I think they'd fight to the last shot."
Welland was irritated.
"Well, if they did fight? They could be wiped off the map in a minute. It would be ten to one at least."
The gangster frowned.
"Suppose they are wiped out—or kicked out—or they change the laws to let all hands come in and give the claims to the deservin'. Well, what then?"
"Then, my friend, the men that had led the—little protest—would be masters of Black Elk Territory!"
Greasy Jones thoughtfully chewed his cigar, his eyes on the flickering candle flame.
"That's so, by God!" he said at last. "But where—again—do I come in? I can't get through Hopeful Pass to stir up trouble."
"No. But others can—men the Police don't suspect——"