"All right, Will. I'll leave some cash with Banks. He'll give you
what you need as you want it."

"Banks? The sheriff?"

"Yes."

"Oh, all right. Suppose you think I'm not to be trusted."

"No. But we'll leave it that way till I see you again. Write in if
you need me--and take care of yourself. When you get ready to settle
down, I'll turn over your share of the Concho to you. So long, Will."

Will Corliss watched his brother drive away. When the team had
disappeared up the road he walked down the street to the sheriff's
office. The sheriff greeted him cordially.

"I came for that money, Jim."

"Sure! Here you are," and the sheriff handed him a five-dollar
gold-piece.

"Quit kidding and come across," said Corliss, ignoring the significance
of the allowance.

"Can't, Will. John said to give you five any time you wanted it, but
only five a day."

"He did, eh? John's getting mighty close in his old age, ain't he?"