"I feel the same way," confessed Johnny. "We're all partners. All right; 'stick' it is. We'll have to be mighty plausible to keep Yank quiet. That's agreed," he grinned. "Now I'm going up to town to find out about Danny Randall, and incidentally to look around for something to do. You're a good steady liar; you go over and talk to Yank." We separated until noon. I had no great difficulty with Yank, either because I was, as Johnny said, a plausible liar, or because Yank was secretly glad to have us near. After visiting with him a while I took the axe and set about the construction of a cradle. Johnny returned near twelve o'clock to find me at this useful occupation. "As to Danny Randall," he began at once, squatting near by: "Origin lost in mists of obscurity. First known in this country as guide to a party of overland immigrants before the gold discovery. One of the original Bear Flag revolutionists. Member of Fremont's raiders in the south. Showed up again at Sonoma and headed a dozen forays after the horse-thieving Indians and half-breeds in the San Joaquin. Seems now to follow the mines. Guaranteed the best shot with rifle or pistol in the state. Guaranteed the best courage and the quietest manners in the state. Very eminent and square in his profession. That's his entire history." "What is his profession?" I asked. "He runs the Bella Union." "A gambler?" I cried, astonished. "Just so--a square gambler." I digested this in silence for a moment. "Did you discover anything for yourself?" I asked at last. "Best job ever invented," said Johnny triumphantly, "at three ounces a day; and I can't beat that at your beastly digging." "Yes?" I urged. "I invented it myself, too," went on Johnny proudly. "You remember what Randall--or the doctor--said about the robberies, and the bodies of the drowned men floating? Well, every man carries his dust around in a belt because he dare not do anything else with it. I do myself, and so do you; and you'll agree that it weighs like the mischief. So I went to Randall and I suggested that we start an express service to get the stuff out to bank with some good firm in San Francisco. He fell in with the idea in a minute. My first notion was that we take it right through to San Francisco ourselves; but he says he can make satisfactory arrangements to send it in from Sacramento. That's about sixty miles; and we'll call it a day's hard ride through this country, with a change of horses. So now I'm what you might call an express messenger--at three good ounces a day." "But you'll be killed and robbed!" I cried. Johnny's eyes were dancing. "Think of the fun!" said he. "You're a rotten shot," I reminded him. "I'm to practise, under Danny Randall, from now until the first trip." "When is that?" "Do you think we'll advertise the date? Of course I'd tell you, Jim; but honestly I don't know yet."