t me
whenever they can prove that Will Whittaker died with his boots on,
and I'll stick to my word. I'll come back from anywhere this side of
hell for my trial whenever they can prove it, and you can tell 'em so,
Judge. But I'm tired of this country and done with it, and I mean to
pull my freight to-morrow."

"If you want to start from Plumas you'd better ride over with me,"
said Harlin, "and you'd better go prepared for trouble, for the
Republicans won't let you leave the country if they can help it."

"All right. They can have all the trouble they want."

"You bet they can! All they want, and a whole heap more than they'll
want when it comes!" exclaimed Nick.

"That's what's the matter! We'll see that they get it!" added Tom.

The next morning they stowed the gold nuggets under the seat of Judge
Harlin's buggy, in which rode Mead and Harlin, with rifles and
revolvers. Tuttle and Ellhorn rode on horseback, each with a revolver
in his holster and a rifle slung beside him.

Tom Tuttle was much disturbed because he alone knew the secret reason
for Emerson Mead's abrupt departure. He thought Nick ought to know it,
too, but he could not persuade himself that it would be the square
thing for him to tell it to Ellhorn. "Nick ought to know it," he said
to himself, "or he'll sure go doin' some fool thing, thinkin'
Emerson's goin' away on account of the Whittaker business, but I
reckon Emerson don't want me to leak anything he told me yesterday.
No, I sure reckon Emerson would say he didn't want me to go gabblin'
that to anybody. But Nick, he's got to know it."

After a time he chanced to recall the gossip about Miss Delarue and
Wellesly, which Judge Harlin had told him, and decided that he was
relieved from secrecy on that point. Still, he felt self-conscious and
as if he were rubbing very near to Emerson's secret when he rode
beside Ellhorn and exclaimed:

"Say, Nick, did Judge Harlin tell you that Wellesly and Frenchy
Delarue's daughter are going to be married next fall?"

"The hell they are! Say, he's in luck, a whole heap better than he
deserves!" Then a light broke over Nick's face, as he shot a glance at
the carriage behind them. He slapped his thigh and exclaimed:
"Jerusalem! Tom, that's why Emerson is pullin' his freight!"

At the moment, Tom felt guilty, as if he had betrayed a confidence,
and he merely said, "Maybe it is."

"I might have known Nick would see through it in a minute," he said to
himself af