And yet there was another thing that I might do—snatch up one of the revolvers and straightway mete out justice—no less—upon this murderer. But he was on the alert and shoved his Winchester against my neck as I stooped, tying my blanket-roll, with my eyes surreptitiously measuring the distance to the nearest weapon. "See here," he said, "I can’t be runnin’ chances with you. I ’ve let you off already, but I can’t be givin’ you chances to kill me now. Funny thing it would be for me to let you off for having saved my life once, and then you turn round and plug me now. Eh? That would be a skin kind of a game to play on a man. If that’s your gun layin’ there with the belt, you can buckle on the belt but keep your hands off the gun, or I gets tired o’ my kindness. See?" He snarled the last word at me, and over my shoulder I saw the leer on his grey face as he spoke. So I packed my blankets without more ado and buckled on my belt, with the revolver in its holster hanging from it, and at Canlan’s suggestion took also a bag of flour with me. "I guess there ain’t no call to see what them two has in their pockets by way of dough,"[#] said he. "We don’t have no need for feelin’ in dead men’s pockets now—you and me," and he winked and laughed a dry, crackling, nervous laugh, and stooped to lift a torch from our fire. [#] Money. With this raised in his hand he whirled about on me and said: "Now remember, I trusts you," and led off at a brisk pace from the trodden circle of the camp-fire. He had the tail of his eye on me, and I followed at once. We skirted the lake, keeping under the trees, the torch sending the twisted shadows flying before us and bringing them up behind; and just at the bend of the lake I looked back at that camp, and it brought to my mind the similar, or almost similar, scene I had witnessed in the place of smouldering stumps behind Camp Kettle. We plodded round the north end of this little lake, and then a horse whinnied in the gloom, and, "Here we are," cried Canlan, and stooping, he thrust the torch into the embers of the fire he had evidently had there and trodden out suddenly. He kicked it together again, and soon the flames were leaping up vigorously. Then he turned and looked on me. "Well," said he, "you and your friends must ha’ travelled pretty quick. Clever lads! Clever lads! Did you know that you was goin’ to try and spoil Mike Canlan’s game that day I gave you good-bye at Baker City?" "Not I," I replied. "I did not know then that you knew the secret." "Ah well, I did! Clever lad Apache thought himself, I guess, slinkin’ away down to Camp Kettle and cuttin’ in that ways. Well, I ain’t surprised he took that way. He knows it well. If all stories is true, he ’s played hide and seek in that same valley more nor once with gentlemen that had some desire for to settle accounts with him." He blinked on me, and then sniffed twice, and suddenly pursed his lips and said: