"That _is_ serious news, Pete," said I. "Who were talking?" But Pete, who was already frightened half to death, grew suddenly cautious. "I don' jest rightly know, sah," he said sullenly. "I couldn't tell. Jes' Massa Mo'ton. He say he gwine sw'ar in good big posse." "I can believe that," said I thoughtfully. "Pete," I turned on him suddenly, "don't you know they'd skin you alive if they found out you'd been here?" Pete was shaking violently, and at my words a strong shudder went through his frame, and his teeth struck faintly together. "Why did you do it?" "Massa Fairfax is quality, sah," he replied with a certain dignity. "I jest a pore nigger, but I knows quality when I sees it, and I don't aim to have no pore white truck kill none of my folks if I can help it." "Pete," said I, fully satisfied, "you are a good fellow. Now get along back." He disappeared before the words were fairly out of my mouth. "Yank," I announced, returning to the fire, "I've got to go uptown. That was Pete, Barnes's nigger, to say that they've got out a legal warrant for the express messengers' arrest for that killing last week. Neat little scheme." I found Danny Randall in his accustomed place. At a hint he sent for Dr. Rankin. To the two I unfolded the plot. Both listened in silence until I had quite finished. Then Danny leaped to his feet and hit the table with his closed fist. "The fools!" he cried. "I gave them credit for more sense. Hit at Danny Randall's men, will they? Well, they'll find that Danny Randall can protect his own! Forgotten that little point, have they?" The cool, impassive, mild little man had changed utterly. His teeth bared, the muscles of his cheeks tightened, two deep furrows appeared between his eyes, which sparkled and danced. From the most inoffensive looking creature possible to imagine he had become suddenly menacing and dangerous. "What do you intend, Randall?" asked Dr. Rankin. He was leaning slightly forward, and he spoke in a gentle voice, but his hand was clenched on the table, and his figure was rigid. "Do?" repeated Randall fiercely; "why, run that gang out of town, of course!" "I thought you said the time was not ripe?" "We'll ripen it!" said Danny Randall. CHAPTER XXXVIII THE VIGILANTES Danny Randall issued his orders as a general would. First he sent warning word to Cal Marsh, still nursing his shoulder. Through one of his barkeepers he caused to be called to his presence four men. Three of them were miners, the fourth a lookout at the Empire. He met them in his little room, quite openly, which, as I have explained, was in accordance with his usual custom. He detailed the exact situation in a few words. "Now," he ended, "we get busy. Are you in?" Each assented, with apparent deep satisfaction.