“No. I want to see you git into better business than ridin’ over four wheels at eighty dollars a month. Jack, you’re out o’ yer sphere up thar. I say come down an’ work the mine that lies at yer feet.” Jack began to catch the import of Tom’s words. “Ef we work it right we can buy all the mines in this great kentry.” Old Jack flung his whip to the ground. “I’m with you, Tom!” he cried. “I thought you would be. But what will we do with the stage an’ yer sleepy passenger?” “Oh, that’s easy. I’ll wake ’im up, an’ tell ’im that I’ve left the business. He kin drive the hosses through to Custer.” Tom’s eyes glistened. “He is the very man I want,” he said, looking at the old stage-driver. Jack, springing agilely over the horse, struck the ground, and turned toward the stage. As the air was bracing, but not cold; the stage was open, and Jack, leaping upon the hub of the left fore wheel, was about to thrust his bronzed face inside when he sprung back with a cry of surprise. The Gulch Tiger started forward. What did he see? He saw two revolvers thrust from the window, and between them appeared a face illumined by a smile of triumph. But the eye glittered like a snake’s; they seemed full of death. “A deuced pretty game you two vermin are playing,” said the man at the window. “Jack, I’ll deal with you first. Go up or down! I’ll give you a minute. If I drive this stage to Custer I’ll leave you here with your toes pointing to the stars. I don’t waste words. The devil on that horse knows this. Now, Jack, go up or down.” Jack glanced at Tom. That worthy was staring at the face at the stage window. “They’ve met before,” Jack muttered; “I guess I’d better go up.” The Canyon Tiger glanced for a moment at the driver, and then lifted his head, as if to say, “Go up.” Sullenly, and with many a muttered curse, old Jack climbed to his box again. “If you attempt a treacherous move, I’ll take the lines from you, or rather they’ll drop suddenly from your hands.” Jack heard but did not speak. “Come up here, Tom Terror!” The revolvers which were covering the outlaw’s face carried him forward. Jack, expecting a conversation between the two, bent down. “Now do your duty,” said the man at the window, in a commanding whisper. “Do not forget for a moment that if you fail--or if you associate anybody with you--I will flood your brains with daylight. You must do it alone--alone, I tell you! The path is before you; at the end of it is a bonanza, a real palpable one; but between you and it is death--death by the trigger I am touching now!” Old Jack did not hear all; the sentences that fell on his ears were disjointed, but not altogether meaningless. Therefore, he was not startled to hear Tom say in his usual tone of voice-- “Jack, drive this gentleman through to Custer.” The next moment the stage was rolling through the canyon, watched with strange curiosity by the individual whom it left behind.