“What are the conditions?” asked Jim, cautiously.
“First, you will keep clear of the tavern, and not drink.”
“That’s easy. What next?”
“You will not shoot until I give the word of command, and until I have emptied my pistol.”
Jim consulted with his fellows, then turned to Stranleigh.
“We agree,” he said.
“Right you are.” Stranleigh rose, took from his pocket-book six fifty-dollar bills, and laid them on the table.
“Look here,” cried Dean, “we don’t want any money for this job.”
“I’m quite sure of that, but six honest men are as much entitled to their pay as is a dishonest lawyer like Ricketts. So good-bye, until I see you at Bleachers day after to-morrow.”