a good
bunch o' men in my day, an' I can't bear to see a thing muddled. But
hold on, Silas, I won't put ye to the pain o' shootin' me. I'll shut
the window if you'll make me a promise."

"What's that?" demanded the trooper, still covering the outlaw, however,
with his carbine.

"You know I'm goin' to my doom--that's what poetical folk call it,
Silas--an' I want you to help me wind up my affairs, as the lawyers say.
Well, this here (holding up a coin) is my last dollar, the remains o'
my fortin', Silas, an' this here bit o' paper that I'm rappin' round it,
is my last will an' testimonial. You'll not refuse to give it to my
only friend on arth, Hunky Ben, for I've no wife or chick to weep o'er
my grave, even though they knew where it was. You'll do this for me,
Silas, won't you?"

"All right--pitch it down."

Jake threw the coin, which fell on the ground a few feet in front of the
trooper, who stooped to pick it up.

With one agile bound the outlaw leaped from the window and descended on
the trooper's back, which was broken by the crashing blow, and Jake
rolled over him with considerable violence, but the poor man's body had
proved a sufficient buffer, and Jake rose unhurt. Deliberately taking
the carbine from the dead man's hand, and plucking the revolver from his
belt, he sauntered off in the direction of the stables. These being too
small to contain all the troop-horses, some of the animals were picketed
in an open shed, and several troopers were rubbing them down. The men
took Jake for one of the cow-boys of the ranch, for he passed them
whistling.

Entering the stable he glanced quickly round, selected the finest horse,
and, loosing its halter from the stall, turned the animal's head to the
door.

"What are ye doin' wi' the captain's horse?" demanded a trooper, who
chanced to be in the neighbouring stall.

"The captain wants it. Hold his head till I get on him. He's frisky,"
said Jake, in a voice of authority.

The man was taken aback and obeyed; but as Jake mounted he turned
suddenly pale.

The outlaw, observing the change, drew the revolver, and, pointing it at
the trooper's head, said, in a low savage voice, "A word, a sound, and
your brains are on the floor!"

The man stood open-mouthed, as if petrified. Jake shook the reins of
the fiery horse and bounded through the door-way, stooping to the
saddle-bow as he went. He could see, even at that moment, that the
trooper, recovering himself,