Chicot, deeply impressed by Upshur's earnestness, obeyed, though still skeptical. And then, after first carefully assuring himself that there were no eavesdroppers near, Upshur unfolded his secret, telling all. How he had first struck scent of the secret, of his eavesdropping, of how he followed the deserters until he had a fair idea of their destination; of all save his connection with the dastardly blow in the dark, and the attempt to fix the crime upon Burr Wythe, for reasons that may hereafter appear. "Now you know all," he added, "and it is for you to decide whether we are to slave on like dogs, while those three, not a whit better than we, are making themselves rich for life. What do you say?" "They'd never 'gree to share 'th us," muttered Paul, reflectively, yet with his eyes glowing and his breath quickening. "They _must_, if we say so. I, for one, am willing to fight for it. Just think--Duplin said he found nuggets as large as his fist! And hundreds of them, too! Just think, man--why, there's enough to make us the richest men in the United States! They must share--_or else we'll take the whole_!" "That'll be the best way," hoarsely added Chicot, now fully yielding to the power of the yellow fiend. "There won't be enough for all--fer we must take another. They're strong men, and will fight fer their--fer _our_ gold. It is ours--it _must_ be ours!" "Good! but the other--who shall we select?" "Tim Dooley--I know him well. For gold he would pawn his soul to the devil--and then blarney him out of his pay afterward." And so it was settled. On the succeeding night the three men, who were standing guard, deserted and took up the back-trail, forgetful of the dangers that threatened the wagon-train in being left without a competent guide. Upshur chuckled with devilish glee as he hoped the worst would befall them. He had proposed to Lottie Mitchell, and she had rejected him. Her father also had forbidden him ever again addressing his child, under penalty of a thrashing. For this reason, seeing that all hope of success in that direction was gone, he hoped that the entire train might be attacked and destroyed by the Indians or mountain outlaws, that infested the Overland Route, almost from end to end. Caleb Mitchell was at his wit's end when the truly alarming tidings were generally made known on the morning following Chicot's disappearance. And not without good cause for apprehension, for the train was now fairly in among the mountains, where a deviation from the right trail--at times wholly undiscernible--might well result in total destruction. As wagon-master, head of the train, only second to the regular guide, he was naturally the one to whom all now looked, when in truth he was no more capable than any other member, except from his great coolness and superior judgment. All were equally ignorant of the trail, since this was the first venture across the plains.