He was flushed, and the devil got into his eyes when he came back, and he cried, "And you made father do it!" Barclay smiled pacifically, and limped over to Hendricks and took the note from him and put it back into the portmanteau.

Then Barclay replied: "No, Bob, I didn't make your father--the times made your father.

It was that or confess to Gabe Carnine, who swelled up on taking his job, that we hadn't paid the taxes on the company's land, though our check had been passed for it.

When it came in, we gave the county treasurer credit on his daily bank-book for the nine thousand, but we held out the check.

Do you see ?" "Yes, that far," replied Hendricks.
"Well, it's a long story after that, but when I found Gabe wouldn't accommodate us for six months by giving us his note to carry as cash until we could pay it,--the inspectors wouldn't take mine or your father's,--and our books had to show the amount of gross cash that the treasurer deposited before Gabe came in, your father thought it unwise to keep holding checks that had already been paid in the drawer as cash for that nine thousand, so we--well, one day he just put this note in, and worked it through the books." Hendricks had his devil well in hand as he stared at Barclay, and then said: "John--this is mighty dangerous business.