"'I don't want any,' says I. 'The First National say they can fit me out
by Wednesday if I can't get it before. Man don't want to borrow from his
friends,' says I. 'Then put my roll in the First National,' says Hank.
That's all! Only--I saw some of the other old-timers last night." Pete
fingered his sheaf significantly.

"You have us!" said Marsh. "What do you want?"

"I want the money for this check--so you'll know I'm not permeated with
any ideas about heaping coals of fire on your old bald head. Come
through, real earnest! I'll see about the rest. Exerting financial
pressure is what they call this little racket you worked on me, I
believe. It's a real nice game. I like it. If you ever mull or meddle
with my affairs again I'll turn another check. That's for your official
information--so you can keep the bank from any little indiscretions. I'm
telling you! This isn't blackmail. This is directions. Sit down and write
me a draft on El Paso."

Marsh complied. Peter Johnson inspected the draft carefully.

"So much for the bank for to-day, the nineteenth," said Pete. "Now a few
kind words for you as the individual, Mr. George Marsh, quite aside from
your capacity as a banker. You report to Zurich that I applied for a loan
and you refused it--not a word more. I'm tellin' you! Put a blab on your
office boy." He rolled his thumb at young Hudson. "And hereafter if you
ever horn in on my affairs so much as the weight of a finger tip--I'm
tellin' you now!--I'll appear to you!"