rce of mind
and body was seeking inspiration.

And the evening was well-nigh spent before inspiration came. Careless
of time, of everything but his feelings, he had finally flung himself
full length upon his bed, brain-weary and resourceless. Then came the
change. As his head touched the pillow it almost seemed to rebound;
and he found himself sitting up again glaring at the opposite wall
with the desired inspiration in his gimlet eyes.

"Gee!" he breathed, with a force that sent the exclamation hissing
through the room.

And for an hour his attitude remained unchanged. His legs were drawn
up and his long arms were clasped about his knees. His eyes were
fiercely focused upon a cartridge-belt hanging upon the wall, and
there they remained, seemingly a fixture, while thought, no longer
chaotic, flew through his revivified brain. He gave no sign; he
uttered no word. But his face told its story of a fiendish joy which
swept from his head to his heart, and thrilled his whole body.

It was in the midst of this that he received a visit from his friend
Minky. And the moment the door opened in response to his summons the
look in his eyes, when he saw who his visitor was, was a cordial
welcome. He swung round and dropped his legs over the side of his
bunk.

"What's the time?" he demanded.

Minky pointed to the alarm-clock on the gambler's table.

"Nigh one o'clock," he said, with a faint smile.

But Bill ignored the quiet sarcasm.

"Good," he cried. Then he brought his eyes to the other's face. They
were literally blazing with suppressed excitement. There was something
in them, too, that lifted Minky out of his desperate mood. Somehow
they suggested hope to him. Somehow the very presence of this man had
a heartening effect.

"Say," cried the gambler in a tone that thrilled with power, "this is
Sunday. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday," he counted the days off on his
lean, muscular fingers. "That's it, sure. Wednesday we send out a
'stage,' an' you're goin' to ship your gold-dust on it. You'll ship it
to Spawn City. Meanwhiles you'll buy up all you feel like. Clean the
camp out of 'dust,' an' ship it by that stage."

The storekeeper stared. For a moment he thought his friend had taken
leave of his senses. A scathing refusal hovered on his lips. But the
words never matured. He was looking into the man's burning eyes, and
he realized that a big purpose lay behind his words.

"An'," he inquired, with a smile from which he c