"I'd need a big holding," he laughed. "I ain't time for one-hossed shows. Still, I thank you for the offer. Guess the Mallinsbee crowd are kicking 'emselves to death. What?"
Peter nodded impressively, and drew closer in his confidence.
"Kickin'? That don't describe it. They deserve it, too. They kep' us dancing around guessin' with their patch of grazin'. Say, this town owes you a big heap, an' I'm glad. There's one thing owin' a real smart gent like you, Mr. Slosson, sir, an' quite another owin' a crowd of crooks like Mallinsbee's. This town ain't likely to forget. There's things like testimonials around, sir," he added, winking significantly, "and when a city's making a big pile through a man, testimonials are like to take on a mighty handsome shape."
Slosson grinned.
"I shouldn't discourage 'em," he said pleasantly. "The folks 'll see where they are in a few days. Here." He pulled out his long cypher message from his pocket, and held it out towards Peter triumphantly. "You can read it if you like. You won't be able to get its meaning, but I'll tell you what it is. It's to tell my company to go right ahead. They're in. That means that Snake's Fall is made, sir, completely and finally made, and the Mallinsbee ground sharks are plumb down and out. And I'm glad to say I've been the means of fixing things that way for you."
Peter took the message. He took it rather quickly—almost too quickly. He read it. The words were so much gibberish to him, and it was far too long to remember. But with a quick effort he took in the one word of address, and the first six words of the message.
Then he handed it back.
"Do you need that sent off, sir?" he inquired easily, but his heart was beating quickly.
Slosson shook his head.
"Guess I'll send it myself. I'm going across to the depot right now." He folded up the paper. "That's the sentence on the Buffalo Point crooks, and its execution will follow—quick."