nd had to fly with her for your life, and
brought her to us,--your two dear old friends, 'Mr. and Mrs. Barker of
Chicago,' who had a pastoral home in the forest? You remember how we
took her in,--yes, doubly took her in,--and kept your secret from her?
And do you remember how this woman (this mistress of MINE and OUR
confederate), while we were away, saved her from the fire on our only
horse, caught the stage-coach, and brought her to the convent?"

Riggs walked towards the window, turned, and coming back, held out his
hand. "Yes, she did it; and I thanked her, as I thank you." He stopped
and hesitated, as the other took his hand. "But, blank it all,
Chivers, don't you see that Alice is a young girl, and this woman
is--you know what I mean. Somebody might recognize HER, and that would
be worse for Alice than even if it were known what Alice's BROTHER was.
G--d! if these two things were put together, the girl would be ruined
forever."

"Jack," said Chivers suddenly, "you want this woman out of the way.
Well--dash it all!--she nearly separated us, and I'll be frank with you
as between man and man. I'll give her up! There are women enough in
the world, and hang it, we're partners, after all!"

"Then you abandon her?" said Riggs slowly, his eyes fixed on his
companion.

"Yes. She's getting a little too maundering lately. It will be a
ticklish job to manage, for she knows too much; but it will be done.
There's my hand on it."

Riggs not only took no notice of the proffered hand, but his former
look of discontent came back with an ill-concealed addition of loathing
and contempt.

"We'll drop that now," he said shortly; "we've talked here alone long
enough already. The men are waiting for us." He turned on his heel
into the inner room. Chivers remained standing by the chimney until
his stiffened smile gave way under the working of his writhing lips;
then he turned to the bar, poured out and swallowed another glass of
whiskey at a single gulp, and followed his partner with half-closed
lids that scarcely veiled his ominous eyes.

The men, with the exception of the sentinels stationed on the rocky
ledge and the one who was guarding the unfortunate Collinson, were
drinking and gambling away their perspective gains around a small pile
of portmanteaus and saddle-bags, heaped in the centre of the room.
They contained the results of their last successes, but one pair of
saddle-bags bore the mildewed appearance of h