Miss Fitzhugh hesitated, but only for a moment. After all, it was better to tell this plain-spoken frontiersman what he wanted to know rather than to have him make inquiries that might perhaps come to the ears of the Russian government and lead to the betrayal of the whole plan. If he were really a traitor or a spy all was lost anyhow. He could ruin everything by telling what he already knew in the right quarter; he could do no worse if he knew more. Perhaps he might be forced to hold his tongue by fear, although this did not seem very probable. However, it was neck or nothing. She leaned forward. “Did you ever hear of the Russian revolutionists, Mr. Wilkins?” she asked. “Them fellows that are tryin’ to knock the Czar into the middle of a puddle duckski? Sure! They’re all right, if they’d only talk less like a seidlitz powder.” “I am a member of the inner circle of the Brotherhood. This gold belongs to us. It was borrowed on our credit by the Russian Government. We tried to take it from them, and we succeeded, but lost it in the moment of success. We need it to help the cause of freedom--to get for our people the freedom that you have as a birthright. We are trying to get it back. Your letter may enable us to do so. Will you help us?” Wilkins nodded. “I reckon so,” he responded. “What’ll they do to us if they catch us?” “Do!” The girl laughed harshly. “I don’t know. Shoot us, hang us, drown us, or jail us for life. Are you afraid?” “No’m! Not to say afraid. But I always like to know what I’m goin’ up against. Buckin’ the Czar looks to me a good deal like going against a phony faro game. But, thunder! I always was willing to take a sporting chance. I’ll go you for one-tenth of what we get. I guess that’s fair.” Miss Fitzhugh nodded slowly. “That’s a good deal,” she remarked, “considering that we take all the risks. But I accept. One-tenth of all we recover shall be yours. You shall go with us and help us to get it, and you shall have your share. Here’s my hand on it.” Awkwardly the plainsman took the smooth, slim fingers which she stretched out to him. “It’s a whack, ma’am,” he said. “It’s a ‘whack’! But, Mr. Wilkins, there is something more that I want to say, and I want you to understand that I say it not as a threat, but simply as a warning. I don’t know how much you may know of our society, but it has representatives all over the world, and it does not tolerate traitors. No one who has ever betrayed it has lived long. If either you or Mr. Caruth here tried to play fast and loose with it, you might succeed for the moment, but it would be for a moment only. Your heirs might profit by your treachery, but you would not.”