“And I want money—but hold on a minute, I got something I want to sell you, Ben. Yes, sir, I am going to make a fair trade; a thousand dollars.” “That's more than I can lay my hands on to-night, Tom, so come down to reason.” “Well, five hundred then,” said Raymond eagerly. “What's your trade, Tom?” “You know when father took you in you gave him a buckskin bag full of papers. Where do you reckon they are now?” “I don't know, I never had any more than your word for it, but you always said when I asked about them, that they had either been lost or destroyed, at least they were not among your father's papers when you came to look them over, but perhaps you lied.” “That's about the size of it, Benny,” said Raymond coolly. “I lied. I had my own reasons for wanting to keep them papers out of your hands.” “But they were not yours! If I had been with your father at the time of his death he would have given them to me.” “Maybe he would, he was mighty curious in them ways; but you wa'n'. there, so he did the next best thing, he gave them to me instead.” “To give to me, I suppose.” “That part of it's plumb slipped my mind. Anyhow I got the papers.” “And you want to send them to me now?” “That's the idea, Benny.” “And if I gave you the money?” “Five hundred dollars, Benny.” “You'll clear out of here for Texas?” “I bet I will,” said Raymond cheerfully. “Where are the papers?” questioned Rogers. “I got 'em by me;” but he made no move to produce them. “I'll go to the house and get the money, and I'll have Buck get up a horse for you.” “All right;” and Raymond stretched himself out in the bunk again. He felt certain that the posse would not arrive at the ranch until early in the morning, and by then he would have put many miles between it and himself. He was alone but a few minutes, and then he was rejoined by Rogers, who carried a lantern. “Did you fetch the money, Benny?” demanded the old buffalo hunter eagerly. “Yes, I have it here. Now let me see those papers.” Raymond produced a greasy pocket-book, and rescued from its depths a small flat parcel wrapped in several folds of oilskin. He surrendered it to Rogers, who undid the parcel and satisfied himself by a glance that the yellow papers he held in his hand were those for which he had bargained. Raymond watched him, a toothless smile relaxing his lean jaws. “All right, Benny?” “They seem to be—yes.” “Then fork over, and I'll quit you here and now.” The money Rogers gave him he hid about his person; then he gathered up his hat and weapons, and moved to the door. Rogers followed him, and in the shadow of the corral fence they saw Buck holding a horse. Raymond moved toward it with alacrity, and swung himself into the saddle. “I don't know as I was so much run out of the country after all. I been wanting a change. Well, good-bye, Benny, take care of yourself, old pardner! So long, Buck!” and with that he put his horse to an easy canter.