"That's what makes commerce," Matt agreed; "people wantin' different
things."

In the middle of the afternoon Jim went out to buy food. While he was
gone, Matt cleared the table of the jewels, wrapping them up as before and
putting them under the pillow. Then he lighted the kerosene stove and
started to boil water for coffee. A few minutes later, Jim returned.

"Most surprising," he remarked. "Streets, an' stores, an' people just like
they always was. Nothin' changed. An' me walking along through it all a
millionaire. Nobody looked at me an' guessed it."

Matt grunted unsympathetically. He had little comprehension of the lighter
whims and fancies of his partner's imagination.

"Did you get a porterhouse?" he demanded.

"Sure, an' an inch thick. It's a peach. Look at it."

He unwrapped the steak and held it up for the other's inspection. Then he
made the coffee and set the table, while Matt fried the steak.

"Don't put on too much of them red peppers," Jim warned. "I ain't used to
your Mexican cookin'. You always season too hot."

Matt grunted a laugh and went on with his cooking. Jim poured out the
coffee, but first, into the nicked china cup, he emptied a powder he had
carried in his vest pocket wrapped in a rice-paper. He had turned his back
for the moment on his partner, but he did not dare to glance around at him.
Matt placed a newspaper on the table, and on the newspaper set the hot