Poor Mamie! But it must be the gold and not the girl this trip. When he had invested his capital and made his pile, he would play the prince to his Cinderella. They would both be glad to flee this country. Bah! the very soil was red! Golden blossoms sprung from it, but the roots were fed with blood. Collins was a young fellow, by no means a hardened criminal, and the excitement of the day stimulated intellect and emotion like the drug of a Chinaman. He reached Dutch Flat in due season, and found several old cronies at the railroad station, where people were discussing the death of Cummins. He succeeded in showing the due amount of interest and no more, and was diplomatic enough not to suggest that the murderers were now on their way to San Francisco. He took the train going East according to schedule, and found Darcy playing poker in the smoking car. Collins betook himself to his pipe at the other end of the car, glad that night had come, and that he would soon bid farewell to the Sierras. He felt the train swing round the horse-shoe curve through Blue Canon, and shortly afterward he noticed that they had entered the snow sheds, which for forty-five miles tunnel the snow drifts of winter, and which in summer lie like a huge serpent across the summit of the mountains. Once out of the sheds they would speed down the valley from Truckee into Nevada. The fugitives were well over the line before they took any notice of each other. Except for themselves the smoker was now empty, and they had prepared to spend the night there like honest miners who were down on their luck. Collins remarked in an undertone: "Darcy, we have given them the royal sneak." "Know what I've been thinking?" replied Darcy. "I've been thinking of that wise remark of Ben Franklin's when he signed the Declaration of Independence." "What was that?" "We've got to hang together or we'll hang separately." "That's no joke." "You bet your soul it's no joke. And you'd better shut up and go to sleep." Silence for ten minutes. Then Collins said, "You're a tough nut to talk about sleep when you've killed the best man in Nevada County." "Where would you be, J. C. P. Collins, if I hadn't killed him? You'd be in hell this minute." "Thanks, awfully. But I wish the man wasn't dead." "What did the fool put up a fight for? He could see we had him." "That's what I say. He was a fool to risk his life. He could see there was no help coming from those sports." "Well, Collins, there was one of them that made me feel nervous--that Chinaman. But the rest of them had him corralled. Mat Bailey couldn't do nothing up there in the air. Cummins was a fool, that's all." "Must have wanted his gold pretty bad. And I wish to God he had it right now." "Here, take a nip of brandy. Your health's getting delicate." "Well, partner, no harm meant. But I must say I sympathize with Cummins. He and I have made the same choice to-day." "How's that?"