Yet, to-morrow morning, how will the property be divided?
The keepers of these saloons and Jim Duff will have all your money and what will you have ?" Tom paused, whipping out a white handkerchief that he deftly bound around his head, meanwhile looking miserable.
"That's what you men will have--and that's all that you'll have left," croaked the young chief engineer dismally.

"Now, friends, is the game worth a candle of that sort?
How many of you have money in the bank?
Let every man here who has put up his hand.

Not one of you?
Who's keeping your money in bank for you?
Jim Duff and the sellers of poisons?
Will they ever hand your money back to you?
Some of you men have dear ones at home.

If one of these dear ones sends a hurried, frenzied appeal for money in time of sickness or death what will your answer have to be?
Just this: 'I have been working like a slave for a year, but I can send you only my love.

Jim Duff, who hasn't worked in all his life, won't let me send you any money.' Friends, is that what you're burning yourselves black on the desert for ?" While Tom Reade spoke Foreman Mendoza had marshaled his Mexicans and was translating the young engineer's words into Spanish.
Nor was it long ere Tom's fine presentation of the matter caught the men in the nobler part of their feelings.
"Don't blame Duff so much," Tom finally went on.