Buck, at their appointed second meeting, and the latter buys it, at half its represented value, say $10.
"When can you supply me with some more?" asks Buck, admiring the excellent imitation.
"Day after to-morrow," says the ex-prisoner.
"Let it be a hundred, then," adds Buck.
And the go-between in two days more brings five $20's like the first, which Jake Buck readily gobbles, at forty cents on the dollar.
They smoke and drink and separate again; but not until Buck has agreed to take $500 of the queer from the ex-prison bird—though he now haggles a little at the price.
"Say thirty cents on the dollar," suggests Jake.
"So be it," responds his companion.
And when they meet again, by appointment. Buck pays over the one hundred and fifty dollars in good money, and takes his twenty-five new $20 counterfeit notes, which he is quite sure have all come from the same original source that the first one started from.
He has been managing all this time to work himself into the ex-prisoner's confidence, and he has succeeded, admirably.
"It goes devilish hard," says Buck, "atween ourselves. I thought it would go like hot cakes, it was drawd so fine. I can use a heap of it, if I could get the coney cheap enough. Spose you put me to the 'queer cole maker' himself, and let me try my luck with him."
"Come to the 'break o' day drum' in B Street, to-morrow night," says the other, confidentially, " and mayhap I'll p'int him out to yer."
Within twenty-four hours, Jake Buck meets the wholesale dealer of the queer at the liquor shop in B Street, and makes his acquaintance. But this personage is an old sin-
