“Have you just come in?” she inquired casually. “It is generally not difficult to find me when there is dancing.” And then with a significant smile: “But perhaps there were so many men about me that I was completely hidden from the view of the Señor.” Ramerrez bowed politely his belief in the truth of her words; then he said somewhat seriously: “I see a vacant table over in the corner where we can talk without danger of being overheard. Come!” He led the way, the woman following him, to a rough table of pine at the farther end of the room where, immediately, a bottle and two glasses were placed before them. When they had pledged each other, Ramerrez went on to say, in a low voice, that he had made the appointment in order to deliver to her her share for the information that led to his successful holdup of the stage at a place known as “The Forks,” a few miles back; and taking from his pocket a sack of gold he placed it on the table before her. There was a silence in which Nina made no movement to pick up the gold; whereupon, Ramerrez repeated a little harshly: “Your share.” Slowly the woman rose, picking up the sack as she did so, and with a request that he await her, she made her way over to the bar where she handed it to the Mexican in charge with a few words of instruction. In another moment she was again seated at the table with him. “Why did you send for me to meet you here?” she now asked. “Why did you not come to my room--surely you knew that there was danger here?” Carelessly, Ramerrez let his eyes wander about the room; no one was paying the slightest attention to them and, apparently, there being nothing to fear, he answered: “From whom?” For a brief space of time the woman looked at him as if she would ferret out his innermost thoughts; at length, she said with a shrug of the shoulders: “Few here are to be thoroughly trusted. The woman you were with--she knows you?” “I never met her but once before,” was his laconic rejoinder. Nina eyed him suspiciously; at last she was satisfied that he spoke the truth, but there was still that cold, abstracted manner of his to be explained. However, cleverly taking her cue from him she inquired in business-like tones: “And how about The Polka Saloon--the raid on Cloudy Mountain Camp?” A shade of annoyance crossed Ramerrez’ face. “I have decided to give that up--at least for a time.” Again Nina regarded him curiously; when she spoke there was a suspicious gleam in her eyes, though she said lightly: “Perhaps you’re right--it will not be an easy job.” “Far from it,” quickly agreed the man. “But the real reason is, that I have planned to go below for a while.” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You are going away then?” “Yes.” “And what about me? Do I go with you?” Ramerrez laughed uneasily.