d I.

'Wal, Bill and I seen three or four half-baked vigilantes that call
themselves police; they was a setting round the hut and looked as if
they was awaiting for somebody.'

'Tell Bill I want him, Joe,' I said.

'Can't leave guard nohow,' says the true grit old hunter, pointing to
his revolver, and dodging up and down with his lame leg, a crooked arm,
and a seam in his face like a terrible wound there some time or other.
'I darsn't leave guard. You'll find him in that centre tent, with the
red flag on it.'

I lifted the canvas flap of the door and went in. Bill raised himself in
the bed and looked at me quite coolly.

'I was to your location a while since,' he said. 'Met some friends
of yours there too. I didn't cotton to 'em muchly. Something has
eventuated. Is that so?'

'Yes. I want your help.' I told him shortly all I could tell him in the
time.

. . . . .

He listened quietly, and made no remark for a time.

'So ye hev' bin a road agent. You and Jim, that darned innocent old
cuss, robbing mails and cattle ranches. It is a real scoop up for me,
you bet. I'd heern of bush-ranging in Australia, but I never reckoned
on their bein' men like you and Jim. So the muchacha went back on
yer--snakes alive! I kinder expected it. I reckon you're bound to git.'

'Yes, Bill, sharp's the word. I want you to draw my money and Jim's out
of the bank; it's all in my name. There's the deposit receipt. I'll back
it over to you. You give Jeanie what she wants, and send the rest when I
tell you. Will you do that for me, Bill? I've always been on the square
with you and your mates.'

'You hev', boy, that I'll not deny, and I'll corral the dollars for you.
It's an all-fired muss that men like you and Jim should have a black
mark agin your record. A spry hunter Jim would have made. I'd laid out
to have had him to Arizona yet--and you're a going to dust out right
away, you say?'

'I'm off now. Jim's waited too long, I expect. One other thing; let Mr.
Haughton, across the creek, have this before daylight.'

'What, the Honourable!!! Lawful heart! Wal, I hope ye may strike a
better trail yet. Yer young, you and Jim, poor old Jim. Hold on. Hev' ye
nary shootin' iron?'

'No time,' I said. 'I haven't been to the camp.'

'Go slow, then. Wait here; you'll want suthin, may be, on the peraira.
If ye do, boy! Jim made good shootin' with this, ye mind. Take it and
welcome; it'll mind ye of old Arizona Bill.'

He hande