"Not a-tall," returned Bill. "I only said you and Rafe are a couple of rascals. What's fairer than that, I'd like to know?"
"It's blackmail—extortion," the district attorney trotted on.
"Blackmail and extortion to subscribe money for the support of a girl whose uncle has been murdered? No, no, you don't mean it, Arthur, old settler. You mean that you and Rafe will be glad to do your parts. That's what you mean."
"No." Thus Rafe Tuckleton.
"Yes—and again yes. Three times in fact. Rafe, how about that last deal of yours with the Indian agent? Remember it? The agent, y'understand, gets drunk sometimes, and a drunk will talk. Ever thought of that?"
If Rafe had not thought of that, he thought of it now.
"And how about that last bribe you took?" pressed Billy, turning accusingly on the district attorney.
The immediate shrinkage in the form of the district attorney was plainly visible to the naked eye. He went a trifle paler too.
"Do I get the two thousand apiece for Hazel Walton, Arthur?" demanded Billy.
"Why-uh—yes, yes, of course. I'd always intended to contribute. I was just fooling. Yes."