“Twenty, Carson--twenty who would risk their lives at a word from you.” “They might have to sacrifice--” “That wouldn't make a bit of difference; I know the ones you can depend on. You've got genuine friends, the truest and bravest a man ever had.” “Then have as many as you can get to meet me at Blackburn's store at nine o'clock. We may accomplish nothing, but I want to talk to them. God knows it is the only chance. No, I can't explain now. There is not a moment to lose. Tell Blackburn to keep the doors shut and let them assemble in the rear as secretly and quietly as possible.” “All right, Carson. I'll have the men there.” CHAPTER XXV. [Illustration: 9219] HEN Carson reached the front door of Blackburn's store about nine o'clock that evening, he found it closed. For a moment he stood under the Crude wooden shed that roofed the sidewalk and looked up and down the deserted street. It was a dark night, and from the aspect of the heavy, troubled clouds high winds seemed in abeyance beyond the hills to the west. He was wondering how he had best make his presence known to his friends within the store, when he heard a soft whistle, and Keith Gordon, the flaring disk of a cigar lighting his expectant face, stepped out of a dark doorway. “I've been waiting for you,” he said, in a cautious undertone. “They are getting impatient. You see, they thought you'd be here earlier.” “I couldn't get away while my mother was awake,” Carson said. “Dr. Stone was there and warned me not to leave at night. She can't stand any more excitement. So I had to stay with her. I read to her till she fell asleep. Who's here?” “The gang and fully fifteen other trusty fellows--you'll see them on the inside, every man of them with a gun. At the last moment I heard Pole Baker was down at the wagon-yard, and I nabbed him.” “Good; I'm glad you did. Now let's go in.” “Not yet, old man,” Keith objected. “Blackburn gave special orders not to open the door if any person was in sight. Let's walk to the corner and look around.” They went to the old bank building on the corner, and stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to the den. No one was in sight. Across the numerous tracks of the switch-yard hard by there was a steam flouring mill which ground day and night, and the steady puffing of the engine beat monotonously on their ears. In a red flare of light they saw the shadowy form of the engineer stoking the fire. “Now the way is clear,” said Keith; “we can go in, but I want to prepare you for a disappointment, old man.” Carson stared through the darkness as arm in arm they moved back to the store. “You mean--”