"Dick? Oh, Dick an' I stand all right; take thet from me. Dick'll agree to
what I want. I need a young feller bad. Money's no object. You're a bright
youngster. You'll look out for my interests. Here!" He pulled out a large
wad of greenbacks, and then spoke in a lower voice. "You understand that
money cuts no ice 'round this camp. We've a big deal. We need a smart young
feller. There's always some little irregularities about these big timber
deals out West. But you'll wear blinkers, an' make some money while you're
studyin' forestry. See?"

"Irregularities? What kind of irregularities?"

For the life of me I could not keep a little scorn out of my question.
Buell slowly put the bills in his pocket while his eyes searched; I could
not control my rising temper.

"You mean you want to fix me?"

He made no answer, and his face stiffened.

"You mean you want to buy my silence, shut my mouth about this lumber
steal?"

He drew in his breath audibly, yet still he did not speak. Either he was
dull of comprehension or else he was astonished beyond words. I knew I was
mad to goad him like that, but I could not help it. I grew hot with anger,
and the more clearly I realized that he had believed he could "fix" me with
his dirty money the hotter I got.

"You told Stockton you were leary of Washington, and were afraid I'd queer