eculiar effect upon him, considering his neurotic
temperament. He glanced at the sleeping man on the floor, let the lid
down gently, and rolled over on his back. It was an unwonted calm that
rested on his face. Not a muscle quivered. There was not the least sign
of excitement or perturbation. He lay there a long while, thinking, and
when he got up and began to move about, it was in a cool, collected
manner, without noise and without hurry.

It happened that a heavy wooden peg had been driven into the ridge-pole
just above Jim Cardegee's head. Jacob Kent, working softly, ran a piece
of half-inch manila over it, bringing both ends to the ground. One end
he tied about his waist, and in the other he rove a running noose. Then
he cocked his shotgun and laid it within reach, by the side of numerous
moose-hide thongs. By an effort of will he bore the sight of the scar,
slipped the noose over the sleeper's head, and drew it taut by throwing
back on his weight, at the same time seizing the gun and bringing it to
bear.

Jim Cardegee awoke, choking, bewildered, staring down the twin wells of
steel.

"Where is it?" Kent asked, at the same time slacking on the rope.

"You blasted--ugh--"

Kent merely threw back his weight, shutting off the other's wind.

"Bloomin'--Bur--ugh--"

"Where is it?" Kent repeated.

"Wot?" Cardegee asked, as soon as he had caught his breath.

"The gold-dust."

"Wot gold-dust?" the perplexed sailor demanded.

"You know well enough,--mine."

"Ain't seen nothink of it. Wot do ye take me for? A safe-deposit? Wot
'ave I got to do with it, any'ow?"

"Mebbe you know, and mebbe you don't know, but anyway, I'm going to stop
your breath till you do know. And if you lift a hand, I'll blow your
head off!"

"Vast heavin'!" Cardegee roared, as the rope tightened.

Kent eased away a moment, and the sailor, wriggling his neck as though
from the pressure, managed to loosen the noose a bit and work it up so
the point of contact was just under the chin.

"Well?" Kent questioned, expecting the disclosure.

But Cardegee grinned. "Go ahead with your 'angin', you bloomin' old pot-
wolloper!"

Then, as the sailor had anticipated, the tragedy became a farce. Cardegee
being the heavier of the two, Kent, throwing his body backward and down,
could not lift him clear of the ground. Strain and strive to the
uttermost, the sailor's feet still stuck to the floor and sustained a
part of his weight.