"I will do all that is in reason, yes, but der chances vas great, and I take them."
"Haven't Grattan and I taken chances, Goldstein?" returned Matt sharply.
"You have, yes. Well, we shall see, we shall see."
Goldstein was carrying a small satchel which he kept in hand continually, whether he was sitting down or standing up.
"I come prepared to talk business," he said, with a sly grin, directing his glance at the satchel. "My orders was to wait here until Bunce iss arrived with der letter. I had a letter myself," he laughed.
At this juncture Pryne drove around the corner of the building and drew up at the platform in front of the store.
"Jump in, gents," said he. "It won't be long till I snake you out to my place."
Matt and Goldstein climbed into the back seat. Under the seat was a bag of ground feed. As Pryne was driving out of town, Matt drew his knife from his pocket, opened the blade, and dropped a hand over the back of the seat.
A jab or two with the knife made a hole in the bag. The wagon was an old one, and the boards in the bottom of the box had wide cracks between them. Looking back casually, Matt saw that a fine trail of "middlings" was leaking into the road.
"That will do the trick," he thought exultantly. "My cowboy pard can be depended on to attend to the rest."