l the assayer and get him to help?"

"The more people there are connected with his capture, the smaller our
share of the reward will be. We can do it all right."

Tabitha's daring swept away her objections. "That's so," she answered.
"Well, we better not wait any longer then, or perhaps he will get away
yet."

"I'm ready," Tabitha replied promptly, and with quaking hearts but
determined steps the two set out, armed with a stout stick and the
rusty old pistol which Gloriana had used the night the boys had played
burglar.

"What is that broom handle for?" questioned the red-haired girl,
wondering if she would be expected to crack the desperado over the head
with it.

"To lock the door with."

"_Lock the door_?" Could Tabitha have gone suddenly crazy?

"Yes. It's the only way we can fasten him in. The door has an iron
handle on the outside, instead of a knob, you see."

"Oh!"

"Is that the man?" The door of the pesthouse had opened abruptly and a
short, portly man roughly dressed, unshaved and florid of complexion,
appeared on the threshold a moment, eyed the approaching girls
indifferently, glanced searchingly toward town, and again vanished
within, closing the door behind him. Gloriana's heart seemed to stop
beating, then pounded so loudly that it sounded to her like the pulsing
of the engines in the Silver Legion Mine. "Yes," she gasped.

"Then we've got him!" Scared but exultant, Tabitha leaped to the door,
thrust her stick through the handle, and cocked her revolver, just as
the man, hearing the noise outside, grasped the knob and tried to open
the door.

"What the deuce!" they heard him exclaim, and then he wrenched again.
"Who's out there, and what do you want?" he bellowed in rage, when the
door refused to budge.

"You're our prisoner," Tabitha answered boldly, though trembling like a
leaf with nervous dread; "and you might just as well keep quiet as to
make a fuss. Glory, hurry for the sheriff, the assayer--anyone! He's
desperate!"

And indeed he sounded desperate as he kicked and banged the door,
shouted and swore, tearing about his small prison like a madman, and
breathing threats of vengeance against his jailer, who stood pale but
undaunted in front of the door, with a cocked revolver clinched tightly
in both hands, waiting anxiously for the return of Gloriana with help
from town, and thanking her lucky stars that neither of the small
windows was on the door side of the house.

Th