"Come, Werner, the contract!" urged Roger.
"Damn you!" shrieked the German, jerking a heavy envelope from his inner pocket and throwing it in Roger's face. Roger caught it and after examining the contents, put it into his own pocket with a nod.
"Now, Mr. Werner," he said, "if you'll just annex Gustav, and plan to leave at sun down, Hackett will drive you in with Preble's team. I hate to lose Gustav. He was born to be a white man, poor devil."
Werner cleared his throat and spoke sneeringly: "And how do I know you'll live up to your bargain, Moore?"
"Oh, I'm an American! I promise to hold the papers a week and a promise isn't a scrap of paper in America. After the week's up, you won't enjoy the climate, I can assure you of that. I'll send you a check for the amount I've spent, next week, with the amount still untouched."
"Roger!" shouted Ernest, "Don't be a fool! It's the chance of your life you're throwing down!"
"Come with me, Wolf," cried Werner, "Come with me! I'll give you opportunities that you never dreamed of. You don't belong to this nation of thick-headed numb-skulls. You're a German. You know all that Moore knows about using solar heat. Come and help the Vaterland. Let this man rot. Bah! He belongs to a nation of swine!"
There was silence in the adobe living room. Roger's face turned a slow purple and sweat stood on his forehead. But by a supreme effort he kept his clenched fists in his pockets and his eyes riveted on Ernest's.
"Choose, Ernest," he said, suddenly.
Ernest seemed scarcely to hear him. The sullenness that his face had worn constantly for many days changed slowly to a look of anger that distorted his features until his expression was demoniacal.