They were gathered already, a
bright-eyed, hungry-faced crew of men. Gold was piled across the table in
front of them. Slim Dugan had been ordered to go to the highest window of
the house and keep watch for the coming of the expected posse. In the
meantime the others counted the money, ranging it in bright little
stacks; and Denver told the tale.
He took a little more credit to himself than was his due. But it was his
part to pay a tribute to Terry. For was it not he who had brought the son
of Black Jack among them?
"And of all the close squeezes I ever been in," concluded Denver, "that
was the closest. And of all the nervy, cold-eyed guys I ever see, Black
Jack's kid takes the cake. Never a quiver all the time. And when he
whispered, them two guys at the table jumped. He meant business, and they
knew it."
The girl listened. Her eye alone was not upon the money, but fixed far
off, at thin distance.
"Thirty-five thousand gold," announced Pollard, with a break of
excitement in his voice, "and seventeen thousand three hundred and
eighty-two in paper. Boys, the richest haul we ever made! And the coolest
deal all the way through.
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