Again the planks slid apart, this time clear of the hole. In the same moment something took shape in the black square, something that rose quickly till I could see that it was the head and shoulders of a man. I sat mute, startled, filled with wonder and some dismay. The dull light touching his features showed me Barreau, dirt-stained, sweatdrops on his forehead, beckoning to me. I leaned to catch his whisper. “I came back for you, kid,” he breathed. “You’re slated for trouble. The cabin of the _Moon’s_ purser was robbed the night you left, and it’s laid to you. There’s a deputy from Benton here after you. You’ll get a hard deal. Better chance it with me.” “Robbery,” I muttered. “Good God, what next?” “Extradition—and a hard fight to clear yourself. Weeks, maybe months, in the calaboose. Come on with me. You’ll get home sooner, I’ll promise you that.” “I’ve a mind to go you,” I declared bitterly. “I seem doomed to be an Ishmael.” “Hurry, then,” he admonished, “or we’ll be nabbed in the act. Slip in here quietly and crawl after me. Just as you are. Bring your shoes in your hand.” Thus, willy-nilly, I found myself in the black, dank space between the floor and the ground. The blackness and musty smell endured no more than a few seconds. The passage to the outer wall was shorter than I had thought. Presently I followed Barreau through a tight hole, and stood erect in the gloom of a cloudy night—a night well fitted for desperate deeds. “Give me your hand,” said Barreau, when I had put on my brogans. The dark might have been made to order for our purpose. I could barely see Barreau at my elbow. His hand was a needed aid. Together we moved softly away from the guardhouse, and, once clear of it, ran like hunted things. Looking back over my shoulder once, I saw the guardhouse lights, pale yellow squares set in solid ebony. The rest of the post lay unlighted, hidden away in the dark. I do not know whither Barreau led me, but at length, almost winded from the long run, he brought up against some sort of deserted building. A vague blur resolved into two horses, when we laid hands upon it. Barreau jerked loose the fastening ropes. And as my fingers closed on the reins of one, a carbine popped away in our rear, then another, and a third. Hard on that came the shrilling of a bugle. “Up with you,” Barreau commanded. “They’ve found our hole. Stick close to me. If they do run us down, we must take our medicine; we cannot fight the men in red with such odds against us. But I think they’ll look long and sorrowfully ere they come upon us, a night like this,” he finished with a short laugh.