eling. He thought that,
without telling Sleeny the whole scheme, he would test him one step
farther.

"I don't doubt," he said carelessly, "but what we could pay ourselves
well for the job,--spoil the 'Gyptians, you know,--forage on the enemy.
Plenty of portables in them houses, eh!"

"I never said"--Sam spoke slowly and deliberately--"I wanted to
'sassinate him, or rob him, or burgle him. If I could catch him and
lick him, in a fair fight, I'd do it; and I wouldn't care how hard I
hit him, or what with."

"All right," said Offitt, curtly. "You met him once in a fair fight,
and he licked you. And you tried him another way,--courtin' the same
girl,--and he beat you there. But it's all right. I've got nothin'
against him, if you hain't. Lemme mark your name on this hammer," and,
turning the conversation so quickly that Sleeny had no opportunity to
resent the last taunt, he took his knife and began dexterously and
swiftly to cut Sam's initials in the handle of his hammer. Before,
however, he had half completed his self-imposed task, he exclaimed,
"This is dry work. Let's go out and get some beer. I'll finish your
hammer and bring it around after supper."

"There's one S on it," said Sam; "that's enough."

"One S enough! It might mean Smith, or Schneider, or Sullivan. No, sir.
I'll put two on in the highest style of art, and then everybody will
know and respect Sam Sleeny's tool."

They passed out of the room together, and drank their beer at a
neighboring garden. They were both rather silent and preoccupied. As
they parted, Offitt said, "I've got a scheme on hand for raising the
wind, I want to talk to you about. Be at my room to-night between nine
and ten, and wait till I come, if I am out. Don't fail." Sam stared a
little, but promised, asking no questions.

When Offitt came back, he locked the door again behind him. He bustled
about the room as if preparing to move. He had little to pack; a few
shabby clothes were thrown into a small trunk, a pile of letters and
papers were hastily torn up and pitched into the untidy grate. All this
while he muttered to himself as if to keep himself in company. He said:
"I had to take the other shoot--he hadn't the sand to help--I couldn't
tell him any more. . . . I wonder if she will go with me when I come
tonight--ready? I shall feel I deserve her anyhow. She don't treat me
as she did him, according to Sam's story. She makes me keep my
distance. She hasn't even shook hands wi