They had scarcely begun the descent of the hill, however, when a voice hailed them. A moment later a small, gray-haired man trotted up. He was smiling amiably. “Howdy, Miss Jeanne! Howdy, Rand!” “Hello, Peterson,” Cameron answered heartily. “How is the convalescent?” “Gittin’ along fine,” the little man answered. “Say,” lowering his voice, “I thought I’d tell you I’m with the boys to-morrow night.” “Do you think you’re well enough?” Cameron’s voice was doubtful. “Well or not well don’t make no difference! I got a few little obligations comin’ to me which I’m meanin’ to collect if anybody’ gits excited.” “Suppose I forbid you?” “I’d shore hate to go ag’in’ the rules o’ the organization,” Peterson grinned, “but I’m afeard I’d have to chance it.” His face became serious again. “Can I see you alone a minute, Rand? I asks your pardon, Miss Jeanne, but I got to talk over a little business with Rand in private.” The girl smiled and nodded. The two men drew away a little, and Peterson took a sealed envelope from his pocket. He held it out to Cameron. “I’m askin’ you to keep this,” he said gravely, “in case somethin’ might happen to me durin’ the next couple o’ weeks. Better put it in a safe place an’ take care of it. If I’m unlucky’ y’ understand—open it up. If not, I’ll take it back; an’ then I’ll have a little business proposition to talk over with you. But whatever you do, don’t lose it!” Cameron took the envelope and put it in his pocket. “I’ll be glad to, ‘Smiley,’” he said quietly, “and you can trust me to see that it’s kept safely.” A look of relief flashed over the little man’s face. “Thanks,” he said. “It means a lot!” They rejoined the girl, who had ridden her horse fearlessly to the edge of the cliff and was now looking out across the green valley. A moment later the three trotted down toward the town. CHAPTER VI. AT THE “SILVER STAR.” “Hands up!” The command rang simultaneously from three directions. After a startled interval, during which many arms made unconscious gestures toward many hips, every hand was raised. These men that lined the counter, and crowded the sloppy tables of the “Silver Star,” were rough creatures all of them—men that had ridden weary miles, borne bitter hardships, and faced death in countless forms, in every State west of the Mississippi! But this was different. They were awed. More than one strong face paled. The silence became intense. From every window at least two bright rings of metal—remorseless eyes of the grim forty-four—were turned upon them. And behind each weapon was the motionless, black figure of one of the dreaded night-riders!