“And the Concho’s makin’ good,” said Fadeaway, helping himself to a drink.  He shoved the bottle toward Corliss.  “Take a little ‘Forget-it,’ Billy.  That’s her!  Here’s to what’s yours!” They drank together.  The cowboy rolled a cigarette, tilted back his chair, and puffed thoughtfully.  “Yes, she’s makin’ good.  Why, Bud is gettin’ a hundred and twenty-five, now.  Old Hi Wingle’s drawin’ down eighty—­Jack’s payin’ the best wages in this country.  Must of cleaned up four or five thousand last year.  And here you’re settin’, broke.”

“Well, you needn’t rub it in,” said Corliss, frowning.

Fadeaway grinned.  “I ain’t, Billy.  I’m out of a job myself:  and nothin’ comin’—­like you.”

Corliss felt that there was something in his companion’s easy drift that had not as yet come to the surface.  Fadeaway’s hard-lined face was unreadable.  The cowboy saw a question in the other’s eyes and cleverly ignored it.  Since meeting the brother he had arrived at a plan to revenge himself on John Corliss and he intended that the brother should take the initiative.

He got up and proffered his hand.  “So long, Billy.  If you ever need a friend, you know where to find him.”

“Hold on, Fade.  What’s your rush?”

“Got to see a fella.  Mebby I’ll drop in later.”

Corliss rose.

Fadeaway leaned across the table.  “I’m broke, and you’re broke.  The Concho pays off Monday, next week.  The boys got three months comin’—­close to eighteen hundred—­and gold.”

“Gold?  Thought John paid by check?”

“He’s tryin’ to keep the boys from cashin’ in, here.  Things are goin’ to be lively between Loring and the Concho before long.  Jack needs all the hands he’s got.”

“But I don’t see what that’s got to do with it, Fade.”

“Nothing ‘ceptin’ I’m game to stand by a pal—­any time.”

“You mean—?”

“Jest a josh, Billy.  I was only thinkin’ what could be pulled off by a couple of wise ones.  So-long!”

And the cowboy departed wondering just how far his covert suggestion had carried with Will Corliss.  As for Will Corliss, Fadeaway cared nothing whatever.  Nor did he intend to risk getting caught with a share of the money in his possession, provided his plan was carried to a conclusion.  He anticipated that John Corliss would be away from the ranch frequently, owing to the threatened encroachment of Loring’s sheep on the west side of the Concho River.  Tony, the Mexican, would be left in charge of the ranch.  Will Corliss knew the combination of the safe—­of that Fadeaway was pretty certain.  Should they get the money, people in the valley would most naturally suspect the brother.  And Fadeaway reasoned that John Corliss would take no steps to recover the money should suspicion point to his brother having stolen it.  Meanwhile he would wait.

Shortly after Fadeaway had gone out, Will Corliss got up and sauntered to the street.  He gazed up and down the straggling length of Antelope and cursed.  Then he walked across to the sheriff’s office.