were sibilant whispers, soft curses, frank prophesies, and some commendations, which was entirely a matter of the personal viewpoint. Half an hour later, the last poster placed, Ridley took a short cut, entered the hotel through the kitchen and went into the barroom. What he had published for the enlightenment, edification, or disapprobation of his fellow-citizens was pointed and business-like, and read as follows:
$2,500.00 REWARD!
For Information Leading to the Capture
and Conviction of the Men Who Robbed
the Mesquite Bank.
STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL
TWITCHELL & CARPENTER
Sandy Bend Tom Ridley, Local Supt.
Quayle turned and smiled at the T & C man. "Ye've slapped their faces, Tom. Mind yore eye!"
"They've prodded th' old mosshead once too often," growled Ridley, looking around at Johnny, Idaho, and the others. "I reckon this stops th' blackmail to th' gang. When I wrote my letter I expected somethin' would hap pen, an' th' letter I got in return near curled my hair. Twitchell's fightin' mad."
"Th' reward's too big," criticized Idaho.
"I'm fearin' it ain't big enough," said Ed Doane, shaking his head.
Ridley laughed contentedly. "It's more than enough.
