who knew him looked at one another askance.

"Say, Hunter, ain't yuh got any feelin's? That there's your pardner on
the hoss," one loose-jointed miner expostulated.

"Sure, I got feelin's! Have a d-drink?" Dade leered drunkenly at the
speaker. "Jack's--no good anyway. Tol' 'im he'd get hung if he--have a
d-drink?"

The loose-jointed one would, and so would his neighbors. The Captain
glanced back at them, gave a contemptuous lift to his upper lip and
faced again to the front.

Dade uncoiled his riata with aimless, fumbling fingers and swung the
noose facetiously toward the bottle, uptilted over the eager mouth of
a weazened little Irishman. He caught bottle and hand together, let
them go with a quick flip of the rawhide and waggled his head in
apology.

"_Excuse_ me, Mike," he mumbled, while the Irishman stopped and
glared. "Go awn! Have a drink. Mighta spilled it--shame!"

Jack looked back, his heart thumping heavily at sound of the voice,
thick though it was and maudlin. Dade drunk and full of coarse foolery
was a sight he had never before looked upon; but Dade's presence,
drunk or sober, made his own plight seem a shade less hopeless. He did
not dare a second glance, with Davis and the Captain walking at either
stirrup; but he listened anxiously--listened and caught a drunken
mumble from the rear, and a chorus of chuckling laughs coming after.

He looked ahead. The great oak was close, so close that he might have
counted the narrow little ridges of red soil beneath; the ridges which
he knew were the graves of those who had died before him. The great
bough that reached out over the spot where the earth was trampled
smooth in horrible significance--the branch from which a noosed
rope dangled sinuously in the breeze that came straight off the
ocean--swayed with majestic deliberation as if Fate herself were
beckoning.

He clasped his hands upon the saddle-horn and, stealthily loosening
the dagger-point from the hem of his sleeve, slid the weapon
cautiously into his hand. When he felt the handle against his palm,
he knew that he had been holding his breath, and that the sigh he gave
was an involuntary relief that the others had not glimpsed the blade
under his clasped fingers. He would not have to dangle from that
swinging rope, at any rate.

"Hello, pard!" Dade's voice called thickly from close behind. "Looking
for some rope?"

Jack turned his head just as the looped rawhide slithered past him and
settled ta