Them men could
be handled for what they done last night, and made to sweat for
it--sweat hard cash, as the feller said."
Westerfelt stared at him in surprise.
"Oh," he said, "I never thought of that. I--"
"Well, there ain't no harm in looking at the thing from all sides,"
broke in the lawyer, as deliberately as his professional eagerness
would permit. "A good price could be made out of the ring-leaders
anyway. Old Jim Hunter's got two hundred acres o' bottom land as black
as that back yard out thar, an' it's well stocked, an' I know all the
rest o' the gang an' their ability to plank up. Maybe it wouldn't even
get as far as court. Them fellers would pay up rather than be
published all over creation as--"
Westerfelt drew back, smiling. He did not really dislike Bates, and he
attributed his present proposition to the desire to advance in his
profession, but he was far from falling into the present proposal.
"I haven't the slightest intention of prosecuting, Mr. Bates," he
declared, firmly. "In fact, nothing could persuade me to take a single
step in that direction.
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