sent fifty thousand dollars in greenbacks to
Spotted Tail. The messenger went through here to-day. Have you seen
him?"

"Nary messenger," replied Billy, in relief. "Stage goes empty."

Charley had crept down the stairs and into the room.

"What in hell are yo' doin' yere, yo' ranikaboo ijit?" inquired Billy,
truculently.

"That thar stage ain't what you calls _empty_," observed Charley,
unmoved.

A light broke on Billy's mind. He remarked the valise which the stranger
had so carefully guarded; and though his common-sense told him that an
inoffensive non-combatant such as his guest would hardly be chosen as
express messenger, still the bare possibility remained.

"Yo're right," he agreed, carelessly, "thar is one tenderfoot, who knows
as much of ridin' express as a pig does of a ruffled shirt."

"I notes he's almighty particular about that carpet-bag of his'n,"
insisted Charley.

The man against the counter had lost nothing of the scene. Billy's
denial, his hesitation, his half-truth all looked suspicious to him.
With one swift, round sweep of the arm he had Billy covered. Billy's
hands shot over his head without the necessity of command.

The men ceased their occupations and gathered about. Scenes of this sort
were too common to elicit comment or arouse excitement. They knew
perfectly well the _laissez-faire_ relations which obtained between the
two Westerners.

"Now," said Black Hank, angrily, in a low tone, "I want to know why in
hell you tried that monkey game!"

Billy, wary and unafraid, replied that he had tried no game, that he had
forgotten the tenderfoot for the moment, and that he did not believe the
latter would prove to be the sought-for express messenger.

One of the men, at a signal from his leader, relieved Billy's heavy belt
of considerable weight. Then the latter was permitted to sit on a
cracker-box. Two more mounted the stairs. In a moment they returned to
report that the upper story contained no human beings, strange or
otherwise, except the girl, but that there remained a small trunk. Under
further orders, they dragged the trunk down into the bar-room. It was
broken open and found to contain nothing but clothes--of the plainsman's
cut, material, and state of wear; a neatly folded Mexican saddle showing
use, and a raw-hide quirt.

"Hell of a tenderfoot!" said Black Hank, contemptuously.

The outlaws had already scattered outside to look for the trail. In this
they were unsuccessful,