ern cliff. Chattering squirrels and scolding magpies
had long since ceased their bickerings; if there were other sounds that
came with the night, they were overcome by the complaining river which
ceased not day nor night to fret among the boulders that strewed its
bed. Like a shaft of light piercing the darkness a whistle sounded,
mellowed by distance. The man near the wagon spoke.

"That's a special. Where in hell's Jack?"

"On deck." A fourth man came to a halt. He paused, wiping the
perspiration from his face. "They're coming, a hundred strong. Jakey
coughed it up, and it didn't cost a cent." He laughed. "It's Jack
Haskins's crowd, too."

The man by the wagon addressed Hartwell.

"I can tell you now. It's an all-night wait. Tumble out lively. Better
take your blankets, if you've got any. It's liable to be cool before
morning right here. It'll be hotter on the mountain, but you'd better
stay here."

Hartwell did not stir.

"Out with you now, lively. We ain't got no time to waste."

Hartwell obeyed. The man sprang into the wagon and, pitching out the
blankets, gathered up the lines.

"Come on, boys." Turning to his companion, he said, "You stay with him,
Jack. He ain't heeled; but don't let him off." To Hartwell direct,
"Don't try to get away. We'll deliver your message about the special."

His companions were already in the wagon and they started up the trail.

Jack turned to his charge.

"Now, if you'll just be a good boy and mind me, to-morrow I'll take you
to the circus."

CHAPTER XXIII

_An Unexpected Recruit_

Like the majority of men in the West, Jake Studley took the view that
all men are equal, and that the interests of one are the concerns of
all. A civil answer to what in other climes would be considered
impertinent curiosity was the unmistakable shibboleth of the coequal
fraternity. Hartwell's manner had been interpreted by Jakey as a
declaration of heresy to his orthodox code and the invitation to mind
his own business as a breach of etiquette which the code entailed. Jakey
thereupon assumed the duties of a defender of the faith, and, being
prepared for action, moved immediately upon the enemy. The attack
developed the unexpected. Hartwell's bill, tendered in desperation, was
accepted in error, not as a bribe, but as an apology. Jakey sounded
"cease firing" to his embattled lines, and called in his attacking
forces. He had taken salt, henceforth he was Hartwell's friend and the
f