Reeves found himself upon his feet slapping the other on the back. "You've said it man! You've said it! I will arrange for the financing."
"You! How?"
"On your own terms."
Brent was silent for a moment: "Take your pick," he said, "Grub-stake me, or loan me two thousand dollars. If I live I'll pay you back—with interest. If I don't—you lose."
Reeves regarded him steadily: "I lose, only in case you die—you promise me that—on the word of a Brent? And I don't mean the two thousand—you understand what I mean, I think."
Brent nodded, slowly: "I understand. And I promise—on the word of a Brent. But," he hastened to add, "I am not promising that I will not drink any more hooch—now or any other time—I have here a quart and a half of liquor. In all probability between now and tomorrow morning I shall get very drunk."
"You said you would leave within twenty-four hours," reminded Reeves.
"And so I will."
"How do you want the money?"
"How do I want it? I'll tell you. I want it in dust, and I want it inside of an hour. Can you get it?"