In a word, Paul Chicot suddenly disappeared, without leaving any trace behind him. At dark he had taken his position among the sentinels. At daybreak the train was discovered to be totally unguarded! Not only had Chicot vanished during the night, but with him had gone two others. This was just three mornings after the discovery of the first desertion. A few words will explain the circumstances leading to this defection. Nathan Upshur was at the bottom of it all. Since his eavesdropping, when he learned of the golden pocket discovered by Paley Duplin, he had been busy shaping a way by which he could gain a share, if not the whole, of the treasure. And so well had he done his work that no one suspected his purpose until the blow was dealt. He knew that he must have companions in the venture, as none of the deserters would willingly admit him to share in their profits. In fine, they despised, if not hated him, as he well knew. Paul Chicot was the man he first selected as a comrade, knowing him to be brave and not over-scrupulous, as well as thoroughly acquainted with the country for hundreds of miles around. And, too, he knew that he was avaricious beyond the common. The subject was first broached on the night preceding their desertion. Upshur visited the point where Chicot was standing guard, and together they smoked their pipes, idly conversing. Then Nate suddenly said: "Why do you follow this life, Paul?" "I won't, no longer'n I git to the mines. Then I'll go back to St. Joe, on the Blacksnake Hills, with gold enough to keep the old woman an' gals in fine style. No more trampin' fer me _then_--not much." "But if you had an opportunity of getting rich _before_ you went to California, would you refuse it?" Chicot keenly eyed Upshur, as though seeking to read his secret meaning, for the man's voice had lowered to a confidential tone, and a peculiar expression rested upon his face. "That depends--not in such a way as made whoever it was rub out poor Dutchy," slowly returned Chicot. "Bah! why bring up such things? Of course, I don't mean any thing of the sort. But now, for instance, supposing another train would come along and offer you more--ten times as much as you get for guiding _this_ train--would you accept it?" "Be I a fool? Of course I would, onless this 'ne was to raise thar pile. I work for _money_, an' the biggest pile takes my eye," quietly added Paul. "Well then, supposing I could take you to a gold-mine, within a day's tramp from here, would you desert the train? I say only supposing I could do this." "That's all bosh. Don't I _know_ thar's none sech 'round here?" contemptuously snorted Chicot. "But _would_ you?" "Yas--in a hurry, too." "Swear it on this," and Upshur adroitly twitched a small metal crucifix from Chicot's bosom, where it hung by a string. "Swear to keep all secret that I tell you now, and never to betray it until I give you free permission."