“Well, thar's the difficulty,” said Pole. “He hain't left town, an' what's wuss than that, his friends hain't been able to budge 'im from his seat in Blackburn's store, whar Dan couldn't miss 'im ef he was stalkin' about blindfolded. He's heard threats, and he's as mad a man as ever pulled hair.” “Well, what the devil--” “Hold on, Abe. Now, I'll tell you whar _you_ come in. My underground information is that the Grand Jury is hard at work to git the facts about that White Cap raid. The whole thing--name of leader and members of the gang has been kept close so far, but--” “Well”--the half-defiant look in the face of Johnson gave way to one of growing alarm--“well!” he repeated, but went no further. “It's this way, Abe--an' I'm here as a friend, I reckon. You know as well as I do that if thar is blood shed to-night it will git into court, and a lots about the White Cap raid, and matters even further back, will be pulled into the light.” Pole's words had made a marked impression on the man to whom they had been so adroitly directed. Johnson leaned forward nervously. “So you think--” But he hung fire again. “Huh, I think you'd better git Dan Willis out o' this town, Abe, an' inside o' five minutes, ef you can do it.” Johnson drew a breath of evident relief. “I can do it, Pole, and I'll act by your advice,” he said. “Thar's only one thing on earth that would turn Dan towards home, but I happen to know what that is. He's b'ilin' hot, but he ain't any more anxious to stir up the Grand Jury than some of the rest of us. I'll go talk to 'im.” As Johnson moved away, Pole Baker rose and slouched off in the darkness in the direction of the straggling lights along the main street. At the gate he paused and waited, his eyes on the wagons and camp-fire he had just left. Presently he noticed something and chuckled. The horses, with clanking trace-chains, passed between him and the fire--they were being led round to be hitched to the wagons. Pole chuckled again. “I'm not sech a dern fool as I look,” he said, “Well, I had to lie some and act a part that sorter went agin the grain, but my scheme worked. If I ever git to hell I reckon it will be through tryin' to do right--in the main.” CHAPTER III. [Illustration: 9035]