"Why, you poor boob," groaned Denver, "don't you know she's the old dame
that's trying to get you mobbed?"

"I suppose so. But she was pretty fond of the sheriff, you know. I don't
blame her for carrying a grudge. Now, about the money, Denver; I happen
to have a little with me. Take what you want."

Denver took the proffered money without a word, counted it with a deftly
stabbing forefinger, and shoved the wad into his hip pocket.

"All right," he said, "this'll sort of sweeten the pot. You don't need
it?"

"I'll get along without it. And you won't break the safe?"

"Hell!" grunted Denver. "Does it hang on that?"

Terry leaned forward in his chair.

"Denver, don't break that safe!"

"You kind of say that as if you was boss, maybe," sneered Denver.

"I am," said Terry, "as far as this goes."

"How'll you stop me, kid? Sit up all night and nurse the safe?"

"No. But I'll follow you, Denver. And I'll get you. You understand? I'll
stay on your trail till I have you."