Of the money that remained in camp much of it was carried in the
pockets of men who meant to keep it there until they received something
worth while it exchange.
True, this did not trouble the majority of people in Paloma, who were
sober, decent American citizens engaged in the proper walks of life.
But Jim Duff and a few others held an indignation meeting that night.
"We've been robbed!" complained one indignant saloon keeper.
"Gentlemen," observed Jim Duff, in his oiliest tones, though his face
was ghastly white, "you have a new enemy, who threatens your success in
business. How are you going to deal with him?"
"We'll run him off the desert, or bury him there!" came the snarling
response.
"I can't believe that boy, Reade, will ever succeed in laying the
railroad tracks across the Man-killer," smiled Jim Duff darkly within
himself.
CHAPTER IV
SOMEBODY STIRS THE MUD
The next morning only a few of the men, some of those who had refused to
open bank accounts, failed to show up at the railroad camp.
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