won't be the first
good man I've seen do it. Anyhow, the evidence is dead agin you, an' I'd
arrest my own grand-dad if they give me a warrant agin him."

"What evidence is there?"

"Five men swear they saw ye haulin' the bodies about, and lootin' the
pockets."

Then Keith understood, his heart beating rapidly, his teeth clenched to
keep back an outburst of passion. So that was their game, was it?--some
act of his had awakened the cowardly suspicions of those watching him
across the river. They were afraid that he knew them as white men. And
they had found a way to safely muzzle him. They must have ridden hard
over those sand dunes to have reached Carson City and sworn out this
warrant. It was a good trick, likely enough to hang him, if the fellows
only stuck to their story. All this flashed through his brain, yet
somehow he could not clearly comprehend the full meaning, his mind
confused and dazed by this sudden realization of danger. His eyes
wandered from the steady gaze of the marshal, who had half drawn his gun
fearing resistance, to the man at the bottom of the steps. Suddenly it
dawned upon him where he had seen that dark-skinned face, with the black
goatee, before--at the faro table of the "Red Light." He gripped his
hands together, instantly connecting that sneering, sinister face with
the plot.

"Who swore out that warrant?"

"I did, if you need to know," a sarcastic smile revealing a gleam of
white teeth, "on the affidavit of others, friends of mine."

"Who are you?"

"I'm mostly called 'Black Bart.'"

That was it; he had the name now--"Black Bart." He straightened up so
quickly, his eyes blazing, that the marshal jerked his gun clear.

"See here, Jack," shortly, "are yer goin' to raise a row, or come along
quiet?"

As though the words had aroused him from a bad dream, Keith turned to
front the stern, bearded face.

"There'll be no row, Bob," he said, quietly. "I'll go with you."

Chapter IV. An Old Acquaintance

The Carson City lock-up was an improvised affair, although a decidedly
popular resort. It was originally a two-room cabin with gable to the
street, the front apartment at one time a low groggery, the keeper
sleeping in the rear room. Whether sudden death, or financial reverses,
had been the cause, the community had in some manner become possessed
of the property, and had at once dedicated it to the commonweal. For the
purpose thus selected it was rather well adapted, being