"I'm bettin' my hunch is plumb correct," said Allen, grinning, "an', if I ain't mistaken, another gent will come a-runnin' pronto." The two men waited. Minutes passed; several hours elapsed. Drunken Mexicans singing ribald songs staggered up the trail toward the mines. At last Allen heard what he was waiting for--the drumming of a hard-ridden horse's hoofs. "When he comes, follow him an' see who he talks to, then beat it to the American Beauty, an' don't let no one see yuh arrivin' there," Allen warned. Slivers nodded, and the moment the horseman passed he started in pursuit. The rider had pulled his mount down to a slow trot, and Slivers was able to keep him in sight. A short time later, Jim Allen heard Pop Howes and Hard-rock Hogan coming from the direction of town. Pop was talking loudly and joyously. Allen waited until they were a short distance away and then glided like a shadow up the trail before them. He did not expect there would be any attempt on Pop's life until later, but he dared not take chances, so he searched the trail carefully for a possible ambush. The three arrived at the American Beauty, where Allen told Mrs. Howes that she and her husband were to spend the night with Hard-rock. Pop grumbled at not being allowed to stay to see the fun, but Allen insisted the whole scheme might fall through unless Pop obeyed orders. So the old couple departed. It was an hour before Allen was joined by Slivers Hart, whose eyes were snapping from excitement. "That gent on the horse was Steve Brandon!" he cried. "Steve Brandon! Hadn't expected that!" Allen grew thoughtful. "But, of course, that's it. He would know that the El Dorado vein would be found again on this side!" Young Hart related what he had seen. "Steve hits the steps of the Ace High two at a time. He is in a plumb big hurry. He grabs Bill Tucker, an' they goes to a corner an' whispers. I slide up, but can't hear much, only somethin' about 'double-crossin' sneak; he'll go to jail if he tries it. Things don't pan out to-night. Time to sick Jack Allen on----' I couldn't ketch the name. Then I hears Bill whisper clear: 'If things don't pan out to-night, yuh got to write to Ed to put the screws on Thornton----' Then they sees me an' sorta glares, an' I walks off innocent-like!" Slivers declared triumphantly. Allen smiled with satisfaction. "I figger that part about things pannin' out to-night means gun play, an' I hereby declare myself in!" Slivers said positively. "Don't worry none. You're playin' decoy, an' decoys sometimes gets plugged plenty!" Allen assured him cheerfully.