When I get ready to raise hell about Fowler's and
Brown's ears, no consideration for decency will stop me. I'll be just
as merciful to them as they were to Harry. No more! I'll string their
dirty linen from the Atlantic to the Pacific. His and Brown's! But I
want money enough to do it right. No little piker splurge they can buy
up! I'll have those two birds weeping blood!"
Enoch moistened his lips. "What's the story, Curly?" he asked evenly.
Curly filled and lighted his pipe. But before he could answer Enoch,
Mack said;
"Sleep on it, Curly. Mud slinging's bad business. Sleep on it!"
"I've a great contempt for Brown," said Enoch. "I'm a good deal
tempted to help you out, that is, if it is to the interest of the
public that the story be told."
"It will interest the public. You can bet on that!" Curly laughed
sardonically. Then he rose, with a yawn. "But it's late and we'll
finish the story to-morrow night. Judge, I have a hunch you're my man!
I sabez there's heap devil in you, if we could once get you mad."
Enoch shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps!" he said, and he unrolled his
blankets for bed.
But it was long before he slept. The hand of fate was on him, he told
himself. How else could he have been led in all the wide desert to
find this man who held Brown's future in his hands? Suddenly Enoch saw
himself returning to Washington with power to punish as he had been
punished.
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