But to him it was a business, and to Terry it was a game. He
felt a qualm of pity for Lewison--but, after all, the man was a wolf,
selfish, accumulating money to no purpose, useless to the world. He
shrugged the thought of Lewison away.
It was close to sunrise when they reached the house, and having put up
the horses, staggered in and called to Johnny to bring them coffee; he
was already rattling at the kitchen stove. Then, with a shout, they
brought Pollard himself stumbling down from the balcony rubbing the sleep
out of his eyes. They threw the money down before him.
He was stupefied, and then his big lion's voice went booming with the
call for his men. Terry did not wait; he stretched himself with a great
yawn and made for his bed, and passed Phil Marvin and the others hurrying
downstairs to answer the summons. Kate Pollard came also. She paused as
he went by her and he saw her eyes go down to his dusty boots, with the
leather polished where the stirrup had chafed, then flashed back to his
face.
"You, Terry!" she whispered.
But he went by her with a wave of the hand.
The girl went on down to the big room.
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