“Over in ther woods yonder, nursin’ Poker Dick.” “Ah, Poker Dick was on guard when Kent King escaped! Was he hurt?” “Suthin’ ails him, cap’n, as I’ll show yer,” and Seven-foot Harry led the way to where a camp fire had been made some distance off from the others. Pacing to and fro before the burning logs was Ben Tabor, a frank-faced young Texan, who now wore a troubled look that ill became him. Before the fire was a prostrate form, rolled in his blankets, and as motionless as though dead. “Well, Tabor, is that Poker Dick, and is he hurt?” asked Captain Dash, as he walked up to the two men. “That is Poker Dick, captain, and he’s hurt,” was the quiet response. “I was angry with him for allowing the gambler to escape, but I’ll forgive him now, for----” “Pard, don’t yer say nuthin’ kind ter me, or it’ll break my heart, tough as it are.” The form arose from the blanket, and the blood-besmeared face of Poker Dick was turned full upon his chief, a slight gash in the forehead showing where Kent King had struck him with his pistol, the blow momentarily stunning him. “Why, Dick, old fellow, I don’t want to blame you, so tell me how it was,” and Captain Dash rested his hand kindly on the shoulder of Poker Dick. But the man drew back quickly and said, in trembling tones: “Don’t tech me, cap’n, don’t tech me, fer I is awful wicked.” “The blow has turned your mind----” “No, cap’n, my mind ain’t hurt, but my heart are. Tell him, Ben, for I hesn’t ther power, an’ ther words would choke me.” Impressed with the strange manner of Poker Dick, Captain Dash turned to Ben Tabor. “I hate to tell, too, Dick,” said Tabor, “but I cannot help it. Captain Dash, I was the first one to get to Dick, and finding him senseless, I remained, while the other boys went in chase of King.” “You did right, as you saw that he was wounded,” was the captain’s response. “I only wish some one else had been in my place, for they would have to tell what I found.” “And what was it, Ben?” asked the captain. Before he got a reply Poker Dick spoke up: “Cap’n, Ben hes a heart like a woman an’ don’t want to tell on his old pard Dick, so I’ll spit the story out myself, an’ I’ll feel better, for it gives me a awful bad taste in my mouth an’ pain in my heart. “Yer see, cap’n, I was guard ter-night. Lately ther boys hes won all my dust from me, an’ I got low-spirited; an’ thet devil, Kent King, told me he’d give me a belt o’ gold an’ some dimints’ ef I’d----” “By Heaven! You turned traitor and accepted his bribe?” cried Captain Dash, in angry tones. “Jist so; you hes cut ther story down to ther kernel darn quick, cap’n. He give me nine hundred dollars in gold slugs, an’ two dimints as was worth five times thet much. Ben hes ’em. He found ’em on me. Knowin’ as I was dead broke afore, he sighted my leetle game, knowed I were a darn rascal, and played ther trump on me, an’ here I is.” “And thet blow on your head, sir?” the captain asked.