"I've gin you good reezuns for goin', an' if you don't take my device, Dick, you'll do a durned foolish thing. Cut for Kaliforny, an' get gold--gold fust, an' let the revenge kum arter." "No," answers Tarleton, with an emphasis telling of fixed determination. "The reverse, Jerry Rook, the reverse. For me, the revenge first, and then California! I'm determined to have satisfaction; and, if the law won't give it--" "It won't, Dick, it won't." "Then, this will." There is just light enough from the fire-flies to show Jerry Rook the white ivory handle of a large knife, of the sort quaintly called Arkansas tooth-pick, held up for a moment in Tarleton's hand. But there is not enough to show Tarleton the dark cloud of disappointment passing over the face of the old hunter, as he perceives by that exhibition that his counsel had been spoken to no purpose. "And now," said the guest, straightening himself up as if about to make his departure, "I've business that takes me to Helena. I expect to meet that fellow I've been telling you of who gave me the gold. He's to come there by an up-river boat, and should be there now. As you know, I've to do my travelling between two days. You may expect me back before sunrise. I hope you won't be disturbed by my early coming?" "Come an' go when you like, Dick. Thar ain't much saramony 'beout my shanty. All hours air the same to me." Tarleton buttons up his coat, in the breast of which is concealed the before-mentioned tooth-pick, and, without saying another word, strikes off for the road leading towards the river and the town of Helena. It is but little better than a bridle trace; and he is soon lost to sight under the shadows of its overhanging trees. Jerry Rook keeps his place, standing close to the trunk of the cottonwood. When his guest has gone beyond reach of hearing, an exclamation escapes through his half-shut teeth, expressive of bitter chagrin. STORY ONE, CHAPTER ELEVEN. DICK TARLETON. In the conversation recorded Dick Tarleton has thrown some light on his own history. Not much more is needed to elucidate the statement made by him--that he must do his travelling _between two days_. He has admitted almost enough to serve the purposes of our tale which refers only to him, though a few more words, to fill up the sketch, may not be out of place. Richard Tarleton was, in early life, one of those wild spirits by no means uncommon along the frontier line of civilisation. By birth and breeding a gentleman; idleness, combined with evil inclinations had led him into evil ways, and these, in their turn, had brought him to beggary. Too proud to beg, and too lazy to enter upon any industrious calling, he had sought to earn his living by cards and other courses equally disreputable.