"Where are you going?"

"Me? Over to the Blue. Got a job waitin' for me."

Corliss's fingers worked nervously. "When did you say the Concho paid
off?" he queried, avoiding the other's eye.

Fadeaway's face expressed surprise. "The Concho? Why, next Monday.
Why?"

"Oh--nothing. I was just wondering . . ."

"Want to send any word to Jack?" asked the cowboy.

"No, I don't. Thanks, just the same, Fade."

"Sure! Well, I guess I'll be goin'."

"Wait a minute. Don't be in a rush. I was thinking . . ."

Fadeaway strode to the window and stood looking out on the street. His
apparent indifference was effective.

"Say, Fade, do you think we could--could get away with it?"

"With what?" exclaimed the cowboy, turning.

"Oh, you know! What you said yesterday."