"That Taylor's a funny cuss, ain't he? Yesterday he seemed more interested in the clock than he did in what Joe had to say."
"Yes, he—huh? The clock!" Harris stared blankly at the other a moment and then picked the band from his cigar carefully.
"By the way, Jim, what's this story about the Foraker girl gettin' Hump' to sit on the road and court house plans?"
"All rot! There's a kink in the tax law they brought up," he lied, "and they're tryin' to dodge taxes, but they'll never get away with it; not while I'm interested to see the country prosper."
"Dirty work, eh? Is that so! Always knew Hump was a nut, but never s'posed he was crooked."
"No, none of you ever did. He makes a dog's hind leg look like a straight line. But wait—you wait. Somethin's going to drop!"
Shortly thereafter he walked out and as he passed the Banner office he looked at the litter behind the dusty windows malevolently.
"You're one, Hump' Bryant—and young Taylor makes two—I'll get you as sure as water runs down hill!"
It was dusk when John and Bryant and Goddard drove into town. Harris watched them from the hotel verandah, studying Milt's sullen manner toward young Taylor. He knew men and motives, did Harris. Little of the bearing of men escaped him, because frictions were the material with which he could always work.
Taylor went into the hotel and Goddard came to sit beside Harris. Later they also went upstairs, for Harris had something important to say to the big woodsman. He did not need to say it, however, the long arm of
