ny; the cold cliffs held
aloft their heads for justice; the snow-flakes fell like the ballots of
jurymen, voting for revenge--all nature seemed roused to animation by
this one act. An icicle dropped with a keen ring like a knife, and the
stream below pealed a shrill alarum.

He had done the bad, dark deed. Was he more resolute or courageous now
that he had taken blood upon his hands and shadow upon his soul?

The body disappeared at length, carried downward by the torrent; but a
wild bird darted after it, as if to reveal the secret of its
concealment, and then a noise like a human footfall crackled in the
snow.

"I like a man who takes the chances," said a cold, hard voice; "but
Chance, Andy Plade, decides against you to-day."

IX.

THE ONE GOOD DEED OF A PRIVATEERSMAN.

The murderer turned from his reverie with hands extended and trembling;
the snow was not more bleached than his bloodless face, and his feet
grew slippery and infirm. An alcove, which he had not marked, was hewn
in the brow of the precipice. It had been intended to shelter pilgrims
from the wind and the snow; and there, wrapped in his buff garments,
whose hue, assimilating to that of the rock, absorbed him from
detection, stood a witness to the deed--the guard to the diligence--none
other than Auburn Risque.

For an instant only the accused shrank back. Then his body grew short
and compact; he was gathering himself up for a life-struggle.

"Hold off!" said Risque, in his old, hard, measured way; "we guards go
armed; if you move, I shall scatter your brains in the snow; if I miss
you, a note of this whistle will summon my postilions."

The cold face was never more emotionless; he held a revolver in his
hand, and kept the other in his blank, spotted eye, as if locating the
vital parts with the end to bring him down at a shot.

"You do not play well," said Risque at length, when the other, ghastly
white, sat speechless upon the parapet; "if you were the student of
chance, that I have been, you would know that at murder the odds are
always against you!"

"You will not betray me?" pleaded Plade; "so inveterate a gamester can
have no conventional ideas of life or crime. I am ready to pay for your
discretion with half my winnings."

"I am a gambler," said Risque, curtly; "not an assassin! I always give
my opponents fair show. But I will not touch blood-money."

"What fair show do you give me?"

"Two hours' start. I am responsible for