port of two vilely smelling
yellow candles. The additional light thus obtained was hardly in
proportion to the offensiveness of the added aroma. Still, the remoter
corners of the place were further lit up, and the rough faces of the
four occupants of the room were thrown into stronger relief.

But the animation of the scene was rather a matter of visual illusion
than actuality. For Wild Bill, in his right of proprietorship, was
lounging on his blanketed bunk, while Toby's inanimate form robbed him
of the extreme foot of it. Sunny Oak was hugging to himself what
comfort there was to be obtained from the broken chair, which usually
supported Bill's wash bucket, set well within elbow-reach of the table
on which the illuminations had been placed. Sandy Joyce with unusual
humility--possibly the result of his encounter with Birdie--was
crouching on an upturned cracker box.

There was a wonderful intentness, expectancy in every eye except
Bill's. In Toby's there was triumphal anticipation, in Sandy's a
conscious assurance. Bill had just come in from preparing his horses
for their night journey, and, with an hour and more to spare, and the
prospect of a long night before him, was anxious to take things as
easy as possible.

Reaching his arms above his head he pushed his hands behind it for
support, and opened the proceedings.

"You fellers been busy?" he inquired.

And promptly every mouth opened to give proud assurance. But the
gambler checked the impulse with grating sarcasm.

"I ain't got but one pair ears," he said, "so you'll each wait till
you're ast questions. Bein' president o' this yer Trust I'll do most
of the yappin'," he added grimly. "I'm goin' away to-night fer a
couple o' days. That's why this meetin's called. An' the object of it
is to fix things right for Zip, an' to 'range so he gits a chance to
put 'em through. Now, I seen enough of him--an' others," with a swift,
withering glance in Sunny's direction, "to know he's right up again a
proposition that ain't no one man affair. Combination is the only
bluff to fix them kids of his right. We've most of us got ideas, but
like as not they ain't all we guess 'em to be. In some cases ther'
ain't a doubt of it. Without sayin' nothin' of anybody, I sure
wouldn't trust Toby here to raise a crop of well-grown weeds--without
help. An' Sandy, fer all he's a married man, don't seem to have
prospered in his knowledge of kids. As for Sunny, well, the sight of
him aroun