The half-breed's eyes blinked. It was rather the curious attitude of an
attentive dog. But that was always his way when the master of the
Sachigo Mill spoke to him.

Pete Loale was quite an unusual creature. He looked unkempt and unclean,
with his yellow, pock-marked skin, and his clothes that would have
disgraced a second-hand dealer's stores of waste. But for all his lack
in these directions there was that in the man which was more than worth
while. Out of his black eyes looked a world of intelligence. There was
also a resource and initiative in him that Standing fully appreciated.

"Sure I get that," he said simply. Then he repeated in the manner of a
child determined to make no mistake. "He's to take that mail-bag right
into your office--_himself_."

"That's it. Don't knock on my door. Don't let him think there's a soul
inside that room. Just boost him right in. You get that?"

The half-breed nodded.

"I'll just say: 'Here you! Just push that darn truck right inside that
room, an' don't worry me with it, I'm busy.' That how?" The man hunched
his slim shoulders into a shrug.

"See you do it--just that way," Standing said. Then he turned to Bat.
"We'll get inside," he went on. "He'll be right along."

They passed into the office. The door closed behind them and Standing
moved over to his seat at the crowded desk.