"$8,500."
"How much did you send to Kansas City?"
"Not quite $100,000."
At the thought of the vast amount of which he had been deprived by the journey of the bank president's son to Ste. Genevieve, the wrath of the world-famous desperado broke out anew.
"Why didn't you stay in the Springs?" he thundered. "I was a fool not to have shot you when you pointed out my tent to Dillaby."
Gazing at the bandit in terror, the youth blinked at him a moment, then cried:
"You're 'Howard' the false miner! Father was right! Help! He—"
But the cry was stifled in his throat by the powerful fingers of the terrible outlaw.
"You lie, you little vermin! I'm not 'Howard'—I'm Jesse James! A—ah! It makes you blanch when you think that you and your money-loving father insulted me and set detectives on my track, eh?
"You've cheated me out of $100,000 by coming here! And by the blood of my mother! I'll take it out of your hide. I'll teach the Rozier tribe better than to try to drug Jesse James with doped wine!"