" "I want you to do some business for me." Jaggers
looks stately.
"I'm your man, Colonel," says Jaggers, who is, strange to say, very
expert in his line. The trouble with Jaggers is, the saloon is not
near enough to Judge Hardin's office. The OFFICE should be in the
SALOON. It would save useless walking.
"I want you to search a title for me," says Colonel Joe, from
behind a cloud of smoke. Jaggers sniffs the aroma. Joseph hands
him several "Excepcionales."
Jaggers becomes dignified and cool. "Is there money in it, Colonel?"
he says, with a gleam of his ferret eyes.
"Big money," decisively says Woods.
"I'm very busy now," objects Jaggers. He thinks of his ten-cent
ante in that pedro game.
"I want you to give me your idea of the title to the Lagunitas
mine. I am thinking of buying in," continues Joe. "I'll give you
five hundred dollars, in cold twenties, if you tell me what you
know."
"How soon?" Jaggers says, with a gasp.
"Right off!" ejaculates Woods, banging the bell for two more
cocktails.
Jaggers drains the fiery compound. He whispers with burning breath
in Woods' ears:
"Make it a cool thousand, and swear you'll look out for me. I'll
give the thing dead away. You know what a son-of-a-gun Hardin is?"
Woods bows.
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