"Whenever you find a man anywhere who professes to be working for your
good, or for your amusement, and who gets all the benefit in the end,
why don't you open your eyes to him?" Tom inquired presently. "Over in
Paloma there are saloon keepers who are cleaning up their dives and
opening new lots of liquor that they feel sure they're going to sell you
to-night. These dive keepers are ready to welcome you with open arms,
and they'll try to make you feel that you're royal good fellows and that
they are the best friends you have in the world. Yet, to-morrow
morning, how will the property be divided? The keepers of these saloons
and Jim Duff will have all your money and what will you have?"
Tom paused, whipping out a white handkerchief that he deftly bound
around his head, meanwhile looking miserable.
"That's what you men will have--and that's all that you'll have left,"
croaked the young chief engineer dismally. "Now, friends, is the game
worth a candle of that sort? How many of you have money in the bank?
Let every man here who has put up his hand.
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