He wanted to spring erect, to fling
that bribe in its giver's face. But he could, control himself a
moment longer.
"Blake, who's the contractor on this job?" he queried, rapidly.
"Don't you know?"
"I don't."
"Well, we supposed you knew. It's Lee."
Neale started as if he had received a stab; the name hurt him in one
way and was a shock in another.
"Allison Lee--the commissioner?" he asked, thickly.
"Sure. Oh, we're in right, Neale," replied Blake, with a laugh of
relief.
Swift as an Indian, and as savagely, Neale sprang up. He threw the
roll of bills into Blake's face.
"You try to bribe me! ME!" burst out Neale, passionately. "You think
I'll take your dirty money--cover up your crooked job! Why, you
sneak! You thief! You dog!"
He knocked Blake down. "Hold--on--Neale!" gasped Blake. He raised
himself on his elbow, half stunned.
"Pick up that money," ordered Neale, and he threatened Blake again.
"Hurry! ... Now march for camp!"
Neale walked the young engineer into the presence of his superior.
Coffee sat his table under the fly, with Somers and another man.
Colohan appeared on the moment, and there were excited comments from
others near by. Coffee stood up. His face turned yellow. His lips
snarled.
"Coffee, here's your side partner," called Neale, and his voice was
biting.
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