' boys! see ye
behave yourselves till we come back. Don't start nail, or raise lid,
from any o' them boxes. If there's a dollar missin', I'll know it; an'
by the Eternal--well, I guess, you understan' Jim Borlasse's way wi'
treeturs."

Leaving this to be surmised, the robber chief spurs out from their
midst, with the man he has selected to accompany him; the rest, as
enjoined, remaining.

Soon he turns into the up-river trace, which none of those who have
already travelled it, knew as well as he. Despite his greater size,
neither its thorns, nor narrowness, hinders him from riding rapidly
along it. He is familiar with its every turn and obstruction, as is
also Chisholm. Both have been to the big oak before, time after time;
have bivouacked, slept under it, and beside booty. Approaching it now
for a different purpose, they are doomed to disappointment. There is no
sign of creature beneath its shade--horse, man, or woman!

Where is Quantrell? Where Bosley? What has become of them, and their
captives?

They are not under the oak, or anywhere around it. They are nowhere!

The surprise of the robber chief instantly changes to anger. For a
suspicion flashes across his mind, that his late appointed lieutenant
has played false to him.

He knows that Richard Darke has only been one of his band by the
exigency of sinister circumstances; knows, also, of the other, and
stronger lien that has kept Clancy's assassin attached to their
confederacy--his love for Helen Armstrong. Now that he has her--the
sister too--why may he not have taken both off, intending henceforth to
cut all connection with the prairie pirates? Bosley would be no bar.
The subordinate might remain faithful, and to the death; still Quantrell
could kill him.

It is all possible, probable; and Borlasse, now better acquainted with
the character of Richard Darke, can believe it so. Convinced of his
lieutenant's treachery, he rages around the tree like a tiger deprived
of its prey.

Little cares he what has become of Darke himself, or Helen Armstrong.
It is Jessie he misses; madly loving her in his course carnal fashion.
He had hoped to have her in his arms, to carry her on to the rendezvous,
to make her his wife in the same way as Darke threatened to do with her
sister.

Fortunately for both, the sky has become clouded, and the moon is
invisible; otherwise he might see that the ground has been trodden by a
half-dozen horses, and discover the