reason for it--good gold-currency reasons."

"A land deal, eh?" ventured Sibley. "What did I say--speculation,
that's his vice, same as mine! P'r'aps that's what ruined him. Cards,
speculation, what's the difference? And he's got a quiet look, same as
me."

Deely laughed loudly. "And bursts out same as you! Quiet one hour like
a mill-pond or a well, and then--swhish, he's blazin'! He's a volcano in
harness, that spalpeen."

"He's a volcano that doesn't erupt when there's danger," responded
Sibley. "It's when there's just fun on that his volcano gets loose.
I'll go wait for him at the bank. I got a fellow-feeling for Mr. Kerry.
I'd like to whisper in his ear that he'd better be lookin' sharp for the
M'Mahon Gang, and that if he's a man of peace he'd best take a holiday
till after next week, or get smallpox or something."

The two friends lounged slowly up the street, and presently parted near
the door of the bank. As Sibley waited, his attention was drawn to a
window on the opposite side of the street at an angle from themselves.
The light was such that the room was revealed to its farthest corners,
and Sibley noted that three men were evidently carefully watching the
bank, and that one of the men was Studd Bradley, the so-called boss. The
others were local men of some position commercially and financially in
the town. Sibley did not give any sign that he noticed the three men,
but he watched carefully from under the rim of his hat. His imagination,
however, read a story of consequence in the secretive vigilance of the
three, who evidently thought that, standing far back in the room, they
could not be seen.