"I'm sorry for you, Murgatroyd," said Matt, "but I haven't any authority to set you free, even if I was inclined that way. It's the government that wants you; and the government wants you so much that a price has been placed on your head. You've danced, and now you've got to pay the fiddler."
"He says he hasn't done anything so very criminal," remarked Newt Prebbles, as he tied a handkerchief around his head. "I'd like to know what he calls criminal."
"Well," sneered the broker, "I haven't been bribed for keeping what I know away from the authorities."
"As I was bribed," retorted Newt hotly, "with money my own father paid you for forged duebills!"
Murgatroyd laughed, and it was the laugh of a wretch utterly devoid of conscience.
"That was rather a neat play of mine," said he. "But you haven't given me your answer yet, Motor Matt."
"Yes, I have," said Matt. "You're going to Fort Totten."
"And so am I," put in Newt Prebbles, "just as quick as I can get there. I'll take Murgatroyd's horse and ride to Bismarck. There's a night train I can catch for Jamestown, and I ought to be at the post some time before noon, to-morrow."
"You can't get there any too quick," observed McGlory caustically.
He had no liking for Newt Prebbles. A man who would do what Newt Prebbles had done could never stand very high in the cowboy's estimation.