"C'rect," admitted Dave.

"I'll dock you seven and a half for that. Three times thirty's ninety.
Take seven and a half from that leaves eighty-two fifty."

"Hold on!" objected Dave. "My pay's thirty-five a month."

"First I knew of it," said the foreman, eyes bleak and harsh. "Thirty's
what you're gettin'."

"I came in as top hand at thirty-five."

"You did not," denied Doble flatly.

The young man flushed. "You can't run that on me, Dug. I'll not stand for
it."

"Eighty-two fifty is what you get," answered the other dogmatically. "You
can take it or go to hell."

He began to sort out a number of small checks with which to pay the
puncher. At that time the currency of the country consisted largely of
cattlemen's checks which passed from hand to hand till they were grimy
with dirt. Often these were not cashed for months later.

"We'll see what the old man says about that," retorted Dave hotly. It was
in his mind to say that he did not intend to be robbed by both the Doble
brothers, but he wisely repressed the impulse. Dug would as soon fight as
eat, and the young rider knew he would not have a chance in the world