“I wouldn’t, Colonel. As for you,” he added, turning to the other wayfarer, who carried a rifle, “you want to remember that a shotgun has two barrels, usually both loaded.”
Stepping forward, Average Jones “lifted” the financier’s weapon. Then he deprived Fred of his rifle amid a surprisingly brilliant outburst of verbal pyrotechnics.
“Now we can talk business comfortably,” he observed.
“I can’t talk at all pretty quick if I don’t git a moistener,” said Fred piteously.
Pouring out a scant cupful of water into his hat, Average Jones handed it over. “Drink slowly,” he advised. “You’ve got about a hundred dollars’ worth there at present quotations.”
Colonel Richford’s head went up with a jerk.
“Hundred dollars’ worth!” he croaked, his eyes fiery with suspicion. “Are you going to hold up two men dying of thirst?”
“There’s been only one man in danger of that death around here. His name is Hoff.”
The redoubtable colonel gasped, and leaned back against a rock.
“You’ll be relieved to learn that he’s safe. Now, to answer your question: No, I don’t propose to hold up two men for anything. I propose to deal with the president and treasurer of the North Pinto Gold Mining Company. As a practical mining man you will appreciate the absolute necessity of water in your operations. The nearest available supply is some ten hours distant. Before you could reach it I fear that—er—your company would—er—have gone out of existence. Therefore I am fortunate in being able to offer you a small supply which I will put on the market at the low rate of ten thousand dollars. I may add that—er—certified checks will—er—be accepted.”