So he tried to throw off gloom and apprehension, but he failed. His comrades did not rally to his help. Wilson walked away, nodding his head. “Boss, let Jim alone,” whispered Shady. “It's orful the way you buck ag'in' him--when you seen he's stirred up. Jim's true blue. But you gotta be careful.” Moze corroborated this statement by gloomy nods. When the card-playing was resumed, Anson did not join the game, and both Moze and Shady evinced little of that whole-hearted obsession which usually attended their gambling. Anson lay at length, his head in a saddle, scowling at the little shelter where the captive girl kept herself out of sight. At times a faint song or laugh, very unnatural, was wafted across the space. Wilson plodded at the cooking and apparently heard no sounds. Presently he called the men to eat, which office they surlily and silently performed, as if it was a favor bestowed upon the cook. “Snake, hadn't I ought to take a bite of grub over to the gurl?” asked Wilson. “Do you hev to ask me thet?” snapped Anson. “She's gotta be fed, if we hev to stuff it down her throat.” “Wal, I ain't stuck on the job,” replied Wilson. “But I'll tackle it, seein' you-all got cold feet.” With plate and cup be reluctantly approached the little lean-to, and, kneeling, he put his head inside. The girl, quick-eyed and alert, had evidently seen him coming. At any rate, she greeted him with a cautious smile. “Jim, was I pretty good?” she whispered. “Miss, you was shore the finest aktress I ever seen,” he responded, in a low voice. “But you dam near overdid it. I'm goin' to tell Anson you're sick now--poisoned or somethin' awful. Then we'll wait till night. Dale shore will help us out.” “Oh, I'm on fire to get away,” she exclaimed. “Jim Wilson, I'll never forget you as long as I live!” He seemed greatly embarrassed. “Wal--miss--I--I'll do my best licks. But I ain't gamblin' none on results. Be patient. Keep your nerve. Don't get scared. I reckon between me an' Dale you'll git away from heah.” Withdrawing his head, he got up and returned to the camp-fire, where Anson was waiting curiously. “I left the grub. But she didn't touch it. Seems sort of sick to me, like she was poisoned.” “Jim, didn't I hear you talkin'?” asked Anson. “Shore. I was coaxin' her. Reckon she ain't so ranty as she was. But she shore is doubled-up, an' sickish.” “Wuss an' wuss all the time,” said Anson, between his teeth. “An' where's Burt? Hyar it's noon an' he left early. He never was no woodsman. He's got lost.” “Either thet or he's run into somethin',” replied Wilson, thoughtfully.