The brow of Diamond Fred displayed beads of perspiration, and
with a blue silk handkerchief which he carried in his breast
pocket he delicately dried his forehead.

"You're an old hand at this stuff, Jim," he muttered. "It
amounts to this, I suppose; that if I don't agree you'll queer my
game?"

Jim Poland's brow lowered and he clenched his fists formidably.
Then:

"Listen," he said in his hoarse voice. "It ain't your claim any
more than mine. You've covered it different, that's all. Yours
was always the petticoat lay. Mine's slower but safer. Is
anyone else in with you?"

"No."

"Then we'll double up. Now I'll tell you something. I was
backing out."

"What? You were going to quit?"

"I was."

"Why?"

"Because the thing's too dead easy, and a thing like that always
looks like hell to me."