hed, and he averted it, as apparently he fought
off a paroxysm of some nature. Just then Anson swore a thundering oath.

"Crazy or not, I'll git gold out of thet kid!" he roared.

"But, man, talk sense. Are you gittin' daffy, too? I declare this
outfit's been eatin' loco. You can't git gold fer her!" said Wilson,
deliberately.

"Why can't I?"

"'Cause we're tracked. We can't make no dickers. Why, in another day or
so we'll be dodgin' lead."

"Tracked! Whar 'd you git thet idee? As soon as this?" queried Anson,
lifting his head like a striking snake. His men, likewise, betrayed
sudden interest.

"Shore it's no idee. I 'ain't seen any one. But I feel it in my senses.
I hear somebody comin'--a step on our trail--all the time--night in
particular. Reckon there's a big posse after us."

"Wal, if I see or hear anythin' I'll knock the girl on the head an'
we'll dig out of hyar," replied Anson, sullenly.

Wilson executed a swift forward motion, violent and passionate, so
utterly unlike what might have been looked for from him, that the three
outlaws gaped.

"Then you'll shore hev to knock Jim Wilson on the haid first," he said,
in voice as strange as his action.

"Jim! You wouldn't go back on me!" implored Anson, with uplifted hands,
in a dignity of pathos.

"I'm losin' my haid, too, an' you shore might as well knock it in, an'
you'll hev to before I'll stand you murderin' thet pore little gurl
you've drove crazy."

"Jim, I was only mad," replied Anson. "Fer thet matter, I'm growin'
daffy myself. Aw! we all need a good stiff drink of whisky."

So he tried to throw off gloom and apprehension, but he failed. His
comrades did not rally to his help. Wilson walked away, nodding his
head.

"Boss, let Jim alone," whispered Shady. "It's orful the way you buck
ag'in' him--when you seen he's stirred up. Jim's true blue. But you
gotta be careful."

Moze corroborated this statement by gloomy nods.

When the card-playing was resumed, Anson did not join the game, and
both Moze and Shady evinced little of that whole-hearted obsession which
usually attended their gambling. Anson lay at length, his head in a
saddle, scowling at the little shelter where the captive girl kept
herself out of sight. At times a faint song or laugh, very unnatural,
was wafted across the space. Wilson plodded at the cooking and
apparently heard no sounds. Presently he called the men to eat, which
office they surlily and silently performed, as if