"No; nothing like that," replied P. Walton. "I'm sitting tight because I have to--until some one turns up and gives my record away--if I'm not dead first. I'm too sick, Butch, to be any use to you--I couldn't stand the pace." "Sure, you could," said the Butcher reassuringly. "Anyway, I'm not fer leavin' a pal out in de cold, an'----" He stopped suddenly, and leaned toward P. Walton. "What was it you said you was doin' in de office?" he demanded excitedly. "Assistant clerk to the superintendent," said P. Walton--and his file bit through the second link. "You'll have to get the bracelets off your wrists when you get back to the boys--your hands are free." "Say," said the Butcher breathlessly, "it's a cinch! You see de letters, an' know what's goin' on pretty familiar-like, don't you?" "Yes," said P. Walton. "Well, say, can you beat it!" Once more the Butcher invoked the universe. "You're de inside man, see? Gee--it's a cinch! We only knew there was mazuma on de train to-day by a fluke, just Spud an' me heard of it, too late to plan anything fancy an' get de rest of de gang. You see what happened? After this we don't have to take no chances. You passes out de word when there's a good juicy lot of swag comin' along, we does de rest, and you gets your share--equal. An' that ain't all. They'll be sendin' down East fer de Pinkertons, if they ain't done it already, an' we gives 'em de laugh--you tippin' us off on de trains de 'dicks' are ridin' on, an' puttin' us wise to 'em generally. An' say"--the Butcher's voice dropped suddenly to a low, sullen, ugly growl--"you give us de lay de first crack we make when that low-lived, snook-nosed Nulty's aboard. He goes out fer Spud--an' he goes out quick. He's fired a gun de last time he'll ever fire one--see?" P. Walton felt around on the ground, picked up the bit of chain he had filed from the handcuffs, and handed it, with the file, to the Butcher. "Put these in your pocket, Butch," he said, "and throw them in the river where it's deep when you get a chance--especially the file. I guess from the way you put it I could earn my stake with the gang." "Didn't I tell you, you could!" The Butcher, with swift change of mood, grinned delightedly. "Sure, you can! Larry's an innocent-lookin' kid, an' he's not known in de town. He'll float around an' get de bulletins from you--you'll know ahead when there's anything good comin' along, won't you?" "When it leaves the coast," said P. Walton. "Thirty-six hours--sometimes more." "An' I thought me luck was out fer keeps!" observed the Butcher, in an almost awe-struck voice. "Well, don't play it too hard by hanging around here until they get you again," cautioned P. Walton dryly. "The further you get away from Big Cloud in the next few hours, the better you'll like it to-morrow."