_I_ have to work for a living. Make one for yourself.
YOU are responsible."
Barney's chef d'oeuvre wins a smile from the genial son of Missouri.
As the last drops trickle down his throat, Jaggers enters. He has
had external cocktails. He is flushed, but triumphant.
"Colonel, you're a man of honor. There's your stuff." He throws an
envelope on the table.
Joseph Woods opens the packet. "Just count that, young man, while
I look at these."
He peruses the papers handed him, with interest. Jaggers follows
him.
"This is all you have. Anything else in the office?" says Woods.
"Not a scratch. Colonel, I thought they would come in handy."
Jaggers' work is done.
"Take care of your money, my lad. It is yours," says Woods. He
rings for Barney, and indites a note to his foreman at the "Golden
Chariot." "You better get up there, to-night, Jaggers," he says,
handing him the note and a pass. "Your appointment is only good
for that train. You give that note to Hank Daly. He'll supply you
all the whiskey you want, free. By the way, the boys up there play
poker pretty well. Now you keep cool, or you'll get shot as well
as lose your money. Don't you forget to stay there, if it's ten
years till I want you.
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