get out of the scrape. You
didn't have a gun, and you're a stranger and haven't said naughty
things about your neighbors. Cheer up. Life looks just as good to me
as it does to you. I love this old world just as well as any man that
ever lived in it, and I'm not a bit pleased over leaving it--any more
than you are. But I can't see where I could better matters by letting
myself get wobbly in the knees. I'm sorry I didn't make a bigger fight
to keep my guns, though. I'd like to have perforated a few more of our
most worthy Committee before I quit; our friend Shorty, for instance,"
he stipulated wickedly and clearly, "and the Captain."

If he were deliberately trying to goad Shorty to further profanity,
the result should have satisfied him. The huge shadow of Shorty moving
back and forth upon the front wall of the tent, became violently
agitated and developed a gigantic arm that waved threateningly over
the ridge pole. The other guards laughed and checked their laughter
with a suddenness which made Jack's eyes leave the dancing shadow and
seek questioningly the closed tent flaps.

"If I'm any good at reading signs, we are now about to be tried by our
peers--twelve good men and true," he announced ironically. "Brace up,
old man! The chances are you'll soon be out of this mess and headed
for home. Don't be afraid to tell the truth--and don't act scared;
they'll take that as a sure sign you've got a guilty conscience. Just
keep a stiff upper lip; it won't take long; we do things in a hurry,
out here!"

"Say, you're a brick, Mr. Allen!" the boy burst out, impulsively
gripping the hand of his champion.

Jack jerked his hand away--not unkindly, but rather as if he feared to
drop, even for an instant, his flippant defiance of the trick fate had
played him. The jerk sent a small, shining thing sliding down to the
floor; where it stood upright and quivered in the soft sand.

"Lord!" he ejaculated under his breath, snatching it up as a thief
would snatch at his spoils. He looked fearfully at the closed flaps,
outside which the trampling of many feet sounded closer and closer;
and with a warning shake of his head at the other, slid the dagger
into his sleeve again, carefully fastening the point in the stout hem
of the buckskin.

"You never can tell," he muttered, smiling queerly as he made sure the
weapon was not noticeable.

He was rolling another cigarette when the Captain parted the tent
flaps and came stooping in, follow