When the time came to go over the receipts with the ticket-sellers he
pulled himself together and prepared to assert his authority. He
tossed away the empty bottle and advanced upon the wagon, his face
blanched by self-pity. He was confounded by the sight of Colonel
Grand, sitting inside and going over the cash with Hanks, the seller.
"What do you want?" demanded Colonel Grand, when Braddock, after
trying the locked door, showed his convulsed face at the little
window. Hanks looked uncomfortable.
"Let me in there, Grand!" grated the man outside.
"I'll attend to this. We can't have you bothering with the finances--"
"I'll kick that door in," roared Braddock; "and I'll kill somebody!"
Colonel Grand picked up the treasurer's revolver. He smiled
indulgently.
"I'm taking care of the money after this, Brad."
"I own this show, damn you! I-I-I'll fix you!" sputtered the other. He
began to cry.
"Get away from that window!" snapped Grand, his eyes glittering.
"Oh, say now Bob, treat me fair, treat me right," pleaded Braddock,
all at once abject.
"I'll talk to you later on. Get away!"
"Don't throw me down, Bob.
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