to the order of P.W. Johnson; it was signed by Henry Bergman, sheriff
of Pima County, and the richest cowman of the Santa Cruz Valley; the
amount was eighty-six thousand dollars.

Marsh glowered at Johnson in a cold fury.

"Call up Bergman!" he ordered.

Hudson made haste to obey.

"Oh, that's all right! I'd just as soon wait," said Pete cheerfully.
"Hank's at home, anyhow. I told him maybe you'd want to ask about the
check."

"He should have notified us before drawing out any such amount," fumed
Marsh. "This is most unusual, for a small bank like this. He told us he
shouldn't need this money until this fall."

"Draft on El Paso will do. Don't have to have cash."

"All very well--but it will be a great inconvenience to us, just the
same."

"Really--but that is hardly our affair, is it?" said Pete carelessly.

The banker smote the shelf with an angry hand; some of the rouleaus of
gold stacked on the inner shelf toppled and fell; gold pieces clattered
on the floor.

"Johnson, what is your motive? What are you up to?"