ch men as Wild Bill,
Sandy Joyce and one or two of the more successful miners formed the
governing committee.

But it was yet comparatively early, and many sore heads were still
clinging to their rough pillows. Saturday night was always a heavy
occasion, and the Sunday morning sleep was a generally acknowledged
necessity. However, this did not prevent discussion amongst those
already assembled.

Wild Bill was not there. Sandy Joyce was still absent, although both
had been long since stirring. Someone sarcastically suggested that
they had gone off to inspect the gambler's rich strike before Sandy
got to work on it on the morrow. This drew a great laugh at Wild
Bill's expense. And it was only the loyal Minky's voice that checked
it.

"You'se fellers are laffin'," he said, in good-humored reproval. "Wal,
laff. I can't say I know why Bill's bo't that claim, but I'll say
this: I'd a heap sooner foller his money than any other man's. I've
sure got a notion we best do our laffin' right now."

"That's so," agreed Joe Brand reluctantly. "Bill's a cur'us feller.
He's so mighty cur'us I ain't got much use for him--personal. But I'll
say right here, he's wide enough to beat most any feller at any bluff
he's got savvee to put up. Howsum, every 'smart' falls fer things at
times. Y'see, they get lookin' fer rich strikes that hard, an' are so
busy keppin' other folks out o' them, it's dead easy gettin' 'em
trippin'. Guess that tow-headed sucker, Zip, 's got him trippin' about
now, sure."

Minky shook his head. He did not believe it. If Bill had been caught
napping, he must have willfully gone to sleep. He knew the man too
well. However, he had no intention of arguing the matter with these
people. So he turned away and stood staring out at the far distance
beyond the creek.

In a few moments the whole matter was dismissed from his mind, and his
thoughts filled with a something that lately had become a sort of
obsession to him. It was the safety of his gold-dust that troubled,
and as each day passed his apprehensions grew. He felt that trouble
was threatening in the air of Suffering Creek, and the thought of how
easily he might be taken at a disadvantage worried him terribly. He
knew that it was imperative for him to unload his gold. But how? How
could it be done in safety, in the light of past events? It was
suicidal to send it off to Spawn City on a stage, with the James gang
watching the district. And the Government--?

Sud