"Then give it away. But not to me."
"Black Jack—" began Pollard.
But he received a signal from Denver Pete and abruptly changed the subject.
"Let it go, then. They's plenty of loose coin rolling about this day. If you got a thin purse today, I'll make it fat for you in a week. But think of me stumbling on to you!"
It was the first time that Terry had a fair opportunity to speak, and he made the best of it.
"It's very pleasant to meet you—on this basis," he said. "But as for taking up—er—road life—"
The lifted hand of Joe Pollard made it impossible for him to complete his sentence.
"I know. You got scruples, son. Sure you got 'em. I used to have 'em, too, till your old man got 'em out of my head."
Terry winced. But Joe Pollard rambled on, ignorant that he had struck a blow in the dark: "When I met up with the original Black Jack, I was slavin' my life away with a pick trying to turn ordinary quartz into pay dirt. Making a fool of myself, that's what I was doing. Along comes Black Jack. He needed a man. He picks me up and takes me along with him. I tried to talk Bible talk. He showed me where I was a fool.
"'All you got to do,' he says to me, 'is to make sure that you ain't stealing from an honest man. And they's about one gent in three with money that's come by it honest, in this part of the world. The rest is just plain thieves, but they been clever enough to cover it up. Pick on that crew, Pollard, and squeeze 'em till they run money into your hand. I'll show you how to do it!'