ared, I
would put my mark on him before he leaves the camp."

But Crane did not dare. He knew that he was in a very critical position.
His safety depended on the silence of two persons--one of whom would
soon be gone. He was not aware that Ferguson also knew of his attempted
crime, or the danger would have seemed greater. However much he thirsted
for vengeance, it would not do to gratify it now. He must bide his time.

Bill Crane was cunning as well as malignant. He decided to quiet Tom's
suspicions if he could, and ensure his continued silence, by an
affectation of friendliness. He waited till he saw our hero washing dust
beyond earshot of any listeners, and strolled up to him.

"How are you getting on, Tom?" he asked, with an appearance of
friendliness.

Tom looked up quickly. Considering all that had happened, he was
somewhat struck by Crane's effrontery.

"Fairly well," he answered coldly.

"Shan't I relieve you a few minutes?" proposed Crane.

"No, thank you."

"It's pretty hard work, and don't pay as well as it might. I think
California's a humbug, for my part."

"Have you tried washing for gold?" asked Tom. "I haven't seen you at
work."

"Not here. I've tried it elsewhere, but it's slow."

"Then, why do you stay here?" asked Tom, naturally.

Crane shrugged his shoulders.

"Because I haven't money to get away," he said. "I'm waiting for
something to turn up. If I could only get to Frisco, I would go into
some business. I would like to have gone with Miles."

"Was that what you were going to propose to him, last night?" asked Tom,
dryly.

"Yes, I wanted to speak to him on that subject. I had a great mind to
ask him to lend me a little money, and take me along with him. I would
have arranged to pay him soon after we reached Frisco."

Tom knew that the fellow was lying, and remained silent.

"You made a little mistake about my intentions," continued Bill Crane,
smoothly, "but perhaps it was natural under the circumstances."

Tom thought it was, but still preserved silence, much to Crane's
discomfiture.

Bill Crane eyed him sharply, and saw his incredulity, but for that he
cared little, if only he could secure his silence.

"I think you will see that it isn't fair to me to speak of this matter,"
he continued.

"I had made up my mind not to speak of it," said Tom. "I don't want to
get you into trouble."

"Good-morning, Mr. Crane," said Lawrence Peabody, who had just come up.

"Good-mornin