lly been subservient to him, he knew very well that if any
difficulty should arise between them Tom would be a formidable
antagonist. Fortunately for him, Hadley did not know his own power, or
he would not have remained in subjection to a man whom he could have
overcome had he been so disposed. He did not fully believe Bill Mosely's
ridiculous boasts of his own prowess, but he was nevertheless disposed
to overrate the man who made so many pretensions. All he asked was a
fair share of the booty which the two together managed to secure, and
this he had made up his mind to have.

They reached the cabin at last, and halted their horses before the door.

Both sprang off, and Bill Mosely, with a sign to his companion to remain
in charge of them, entered at the open door.

"Is that you, Ki Sing?" asked Dewey, whose face was turned toward the
wall.

Bill Mosely could not tell from the way he lay on the pallet, covered
with a blanket, whether his leg were broken or not, but believed that
this was the case. "That doesn't happen to be my name, stranger," he
answered.

Richard Dewey turned suddenly on his low bed and fixed his eyes on the
intruder. "Who are you? what do you want?" he demanded suspiciously.

"I thought I'd come round and make you a call, being in the
neighborhood," answered Mosely, with a smile.

"Who are you?"

"Well, I'm not the President of the United States, nor I ain't Queen
Victoria, as I know of," said Mosely.

"You look more like a horse-thief," said Richard Dewey, bluntly.

"Do you mean to insult me?" exclaimed Bill Mosely, fiercely. "Do you
know who I am?"

Dewey was not easily frightened, and he answered coolly, "You haven't
told me yet."

"Well, I'm Bill Mosely from the State of Missouri. I'm a regular tearer,
I am. I don't take no back talk. When a man insults me I kill him."

"Very well. Now I know who you are," said Richard Dewey, calmly. "Now,
what do you want?"

"How much gold-dust have you in this cabin? We may as well come to
business."

"None at all."

"I know better. You can't pull wool over my eyes. Your Chinaman tells a
different story."

"Ha! Have you seen Ki Sing?" asked Dewey, interested at last.

"Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting the heathen you refer to."

"Where is he now? Can you tell me?"

"To the best of my knowledge he is tied to a tree a mile or so from
here. I don't think he will get away very easily."

"Scoundrel! you shall answer for this!" exclaimed