t," muttered Leverett, thickly.

"Done what?"

"Stole that there packet o' yourn -- whatever there was into it."

"Who put him up to it?"

"A fella called Quintana."

"What was there in it for Jake?" inquired Clinch pleasantly.

"Ten thousand."

"How about you?"

"I told 'em I wouldn't touch it. Then they pulled their guns on me, and
I was scared to squeal."

"So that was the way?" asked Clinch in his even, reassuring voice.

Leverett's eyes travelled stealthily around the circle of men, then
reverted to Clinch.

"I dassn't touch it," he said, "but I dassn't squeal. ... I as huntin'
onto Drowned Valley when Jake meets up with me."

"`I got the packet,' he sez, `and I'm a-going to double criss-cross
Quintana, I am, and beat it. Don't you wish you was whacks with me?'

"`No,' sez I, `honesty is my policy, no matter what they tell about me.
S'help me God, I ain't never robbed no trap and I ain't no skin thief,
whatever lies folks tell. All I ever done was run a little hootch,
same's everybody.'"

He licked his lips furtively, his cold, bright eyes fastened on Clinch.

"G'wan Earl," nodded the latter, "heave her up."

"That's all. I sez, `Good-bye, Jake. An' if you heed me warning',
ill-gotten gains ain't a-going to prosper nobody.' That's what I said
to Jake Kloon, the last solemn words I spoke to that there man now in
his bloody grave----"

"Hey?" demanded Clinch.

"That's where Jake is," repeated Leverett. "Why, so help me, I wa'nt
gone ten yards when, bang! goes a gun, and I see this here Quintana come
outen the busy, I do, and walk up to Jake and frisk him and Jake still
a-kickin' the moss to slivers. Yessir, that's what I seen."

"G'wan."

"Yessir. ... 'N'then Quintana he shoved Jake into a sink-hole. Thaswot
I seen with my own two eyes. Yessir. 'N'then Quintana he run off, 'n'I
jest set down in the trail, I did; 'n'then Hal come up and acted like I
had stole your packet, he did; 'n'then I told him what Quintana done.
'N'Hal, he takes after Quintana, but I don't guess he meets up with him,
for he come back and ketched holt o' me, 'n'he druv me in like I was a
caaf, he did. 'N'here I be."

The dusk in the forest had deepened so that the men's faces had become
mere blotches of grey.

Smith said to Clinch: "That's his story, Mike. But I preferred he
should tell it to you himself, so I brought him along. ... Did you drive
Star Peak?"

"There wa'nt nothin' onto it," said Clinch v