“Sure thing. We split it two ways—I take six thousand and you take four.”
“Aw-w-w-w-w, what kind of a split is that? We were to go fifty-fifty.”
“That’s all right. I get a commission for putting the deal over, don’t I? That thousand I gave him, I gave for you. It was just a loan, Amos. Take it or leave it.”
“Aw, I’ll take it, Putney. I hope he don’t fall down on the job.”
“He’s a heaven-sent angel, Amos. Now, you go and get that money and bring it up here.”
Amos went, but he went reluctantly. As he left the house he did not know he was being followed by the wet-nosed stranger, who had listened, with an ear glued to one of Putney’s window panes.
It was not difficult for Amos to enter the bank and come out with the money. At that time of night there were very few people on the streets of Lost Hills. He had the money in a gunnysack and carried it concealed as much as possible with his coat.
He came down the sidewalk, past the doorway of an old shack, when a big man pounced upon him, forcibly took the sack away from him, and sent him spinning with a punch on the jaw. Amos saw stars that the Lick Observatory had never dreamed of seeing, and when he awoke he was all alone and very sad.
Conscious of the fact that he had been robbed and knocked out, he staggered to Putney’s place, fell inside the house and gasped out his story. Putney’s consternation and wrath knew no bounds.
He fairly danced in his anger, while little Amos held his jaw and stared red-eyed at the wall.