r-one of the hardest.
Sometimes he goes to sleep at his supper. He's not the drinking kind.
He's slow, thick-headed. The best time for this job will be early in the
evening--just as soon as his lights are out. Locate the tent. It stands
at the head of a little wash and there's a bleached pine-tree right by
the tent. To-morrow night as soon as it gets dark crawl up this wash--be
careful--wait till the right time--then finish the job quick!"

"How--finish--it?" asked Cleve, hoarsely.

Kells was scintillating now, steely, cold, radiant. He had forgotten the
man before him in the prospect of the gold.

"Creede's cot is on the side of the tent opposite the tree. You won't
have to go inside. Slit the canvas. It's a rotten old tent. Kill Creede
with your knife.... Get his belt.... Be bold, cautious, swift! That's
your job. Now what do you say?"

"All right," responded Cleve, somberly, and with a heavy tread he left
the room.

After Jim had gone Joan still watched and listened. She was in distress
over his unfortunate situation, but she had no fear that he meant to
carry out Kells's plan. This was a critical time for Jim, and therefore
for her. She had no idea what Jim could do; all she thought was what he
would not do.

Kells gazed triumphantly at Pearce. "I told you the youngster would
stand by me. I never put him on a job before."

"Reckon I figgered wrong, boss," replied Pearce.

"He looked sick to me, but game," said Handy Oliver. "Kells is right,
Red, an' you've been sore-headed over nothin'!"

"Mebbe. But ain't it good figgerin' to make Cleve do some kind of a job,
even if he is on the square?"

They all acquiesced to this, even Kells slowly nodding his head.

"Jack, I've thought of another an' better job for young Cleve," spoke up
Jesse Smith, with his characteristic grin.

"You'll all be setting him jobs now," replied Kells. "What's yours?"

"You spoke of plannin' to get together once more--what's left of us. An'
there's thet bull-head Gulden."

"You're sure right," returned the leader, grimly, and he looked at Smith
as if he would welcome any suggestion.

"I never was afraid to speak my mind," went on Smith. Here he lost his
grin and his coarse mouth grew hard. "Gulden will have to be killed if
we're goin' to last!"

"Wood, what do you say?" queried Kells, with narrowing eyes.

Bate Wood nodded as approvingly as if he had been asked about his bread.

"Oliver, what do you say?"

"Wal, I'd love t