“Well, are you ready to keep your word?” asked Kent King, in a low tone, raising himself on his elbow, for he was lying down upon his blanket. “Yas, I hes promised, an’ I’ll keep my word; but I hes ter take some punishment fer it.” “Your conscience! Bah! What right have such men as you with conscience?” sneered Kent King. “I hes no right ter it, fer it don’t keep me from doin’ wrong, only makes me sick at heart.” “You are a fool, Poker Dick; lie down and go to sleep; the boys know you have played cards late each night, and you were overcome with sleep; see here, you need not free my hands, for my sharp teeth have gnawed the thongs, and I can easily untie those around my ankles.” Kent King held up his hands and the rawhide ropes fell off. “You is a very devil,” said Poker Dick. “Ef I hadn’t promised ter let yer go, guess I might hev dropped ter sleep an’ felt yer knife atween my ribs; but yer hes awful sharp teeth.” “And they are my own, not bought, pard; now where is my horse?” “The last one on ther pararer, thar.” “And my saddle and arms?” “Lie yonder ag’in thet stump; now whar is my dollars an’ my dimints?” Kent King ceased untying the thongs around his ankles, and unbuckled a belt from about his waist, which was heavy with gold. “Here is the dust; but I want one hundred dollars to stake me for a game in Santa Fe.” “Cusses! Yer isn’t goin’ thar, be yer?” “I am; there’s no better place in the world to gamble, and there I go.” “But we goes thar.” “What care I? Free, I am on equal terms with Captain Dash, your leader.” “Better not gamble on that, pard, as ther capt’in is ther boss.” “I do not fear him, and to Santa Fe I go, though you may not see me there. Here is the money.” “All right, pard; now ther dimints.” “They are here in this little pocket in the belt--see?” “I see, an’ I is obleeged; now thar lies yer saddle, an’ yer rifle is tied to it, with yer pistols, tho’ they isn’t loaded.” “You will give me ammunition, of course?” “Yer ammunition is in yer saddle pockets.” “Good! bring the saddle and bridle here, and then I will start.” The guard thrust the bag of gold into the bosom of his shirt, walked to the edge of the grove and took up the saddle, and returned to where the gambler stood. “Yes, here are my pistols, and--take that!” Down upon the head of the guard as quick as the lightning’s flash fell the barrel of the revolver, and, with a low moan, the man fell in his tracks. “Now the gold and diamonds are mine! Ha! Who is that?” Kent King glanced over to one of the camp fires, where a man had suddenly raised himself to his feet and stood brightening up the coals as though he were cold. Hastily Kent King thrust his hands into the pockets of the guard, and, not finding the bag of gold, uttered a bitter oath. “Curse him! What did he do with it? But I have no time to lose, for life is dearer than mines of gold to me.”