being paid off.

As the train came to a stop Tom leaped upon a flat car behind the engine
and introduced one of the newcomers--the vice president of a savings
bank over in Tucson. This man, who knew the common people, talked for
fifteen minutes, after which a clerk appeared from the pay car with a
book in which to register the signatures of those who wished to open
bank accounts. Then the paymaster and his assistants worked rapidly in
paying off.

That railroad pay day proved a time of gloom to many in the town of
Paloma. The returning pay train carried the bank officials and twenty-
four thousand dollars that had been deposited as new accounts from the
men. Of the money that remained in camp much of it was carried in the
pockets of men who meant to keep it there until they received something
worth while it exchange.

True, this did not trouble the majority of people in Paloma, who were
sober, decent American citizens engaged in the proper walks of life.

But Jim Duff and a few others held an indignation meeting that night.

"We've been robbed!" complained one indignant saloon keeper.

"Gentlemen," observed Jim Duff, in his oiliest tones, though his face
was ghastly white, "you have a new enemy, who threatens your success in
business. How are you going to deal with him?"

"We'll run him off the desert, or bury him there!" came the snarling
response.