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TEE NEW ROAD'S MASCOT
53
PLOTTING TO WRECK THE RIVAL RAILROAD
knotty fists threatening him, face white and seamed.
"I aint no Judas — I aint no dirty assassin!" he shouted. "I never done no man a low trick before. I've gone straight. I aint th' man you was lookin' for, by a jugful. You want a murderer, a jail-bird, a low-lived scoundrel. Why — you, I'll show
you "
The words dribbled to a standstill. Without moving a muscle, the stranger had somehow managed to indicate the roll of bills in his hands so that they loomed large enough to cover the world. Two hundred and fifty dollars! Jim Peterson wet his lips.
1 ' I wont do it — get out o ' here ! I tell you I wont "
Two hundred and fifty dollars !
"Such a have," the rather frail, capped
so.
lovely little girl you stranger purred, "but It's a pity she is handiNo, excuse me, Mr. Peterson ; I guess I '11 have to entrust that little business I was speaking about to some one else. Sorry to have troubled you — good-morning ' '
Two hundred and fifty dollars — two hundred and fifty — two hundred
He could never earn that much money; he could never borrow it nor beg it. Rosina would limp thru life always for lack of what he would sell his last drop of blood to buy for her. Two hun
"Oh, Gawd!" moaned Jim, stumbling after the tempter and gripping his fat shoulder with a burning hand. "Here, give me th' money. I'll do it, if it sends my soul to hell!"
The man ran the last mile as tho to outstrip memory. He thought that he was dumb and controlled. In reality, he moaned incessantly and struck his hands against his head. He was a murderer — not yet, not yet ; 0 God, not yet! The train was just about starting now. It would be half an hour before she reached — it. In half an hour— thirty minutes — he would be a murderer. He laughed out, insanely, and plunged up the hill, whose hot, heavy sand seemed like hands clutching his feet. Anyway,