utmost importance."

"Indeed it is," cried Elliston. "Where is the flask of brandy you
brought from the train, Dyke?"

"In the buggy."

"Send a man for it."

"I will go myself;" and Dyke Darrel set off at a rapid walk across the
field. At the same moment the man on the blanket groaned and opened
his eyes.

"How do you feel, my man?" questioned Elliston.

"I--I'm used up."

"It looks so."

Elliston bent lower.

"You're going to die, Sam, sure's shooting," he said in a whisper at
the ear of the prostrate wretch.

A groan was the only reply.

"Do you hear me, Sam?"

"Yes, I--I hear," was the faint answer.

Placing his lips to the ear of the man, Elliston continued to whisper
for some seconds.

Soon the detective returned with a flask of brandy, which he at once
placed to the lips of the bruised and helpless wreck. A few sips
seemed to revive the man wonderfully.

"Tell me your name, my man," questioned the detective, eagerly.

"Sam Swart."

"Do you realize your condition? You have but a few hours to live, and
if you wish to free your mind, we will listen."

Elliston stood at the man's feet, facing him with folded arms, while
the kneeling detective addressed himself to the apparently dying man.

"I haven't nothing to tell."

"See here, Mr. Swart, it is better that you tell what you know. Do
justice for once, and it may be better with you in the hereafter. You
attempted to murder me last night, and I believe you had a hand in the
death of Arnold Nicholson and the robbery of the express."

"I--I did, but he coaxed me into it," articulated the poor wretch in a
husky voice. Elliston caught the words, and his cheek suddenly
blanched. He was outwardly calm, however.

Dyke Darrel bent low to catch the faint words of Swart. It was evident
that the man was rapidly sinking, and the detective was terribly
anxious to get at the truth.

"Speak!" he cried, hoarsely, "WHO coaxed you to commit this crime?"

"HE did. The boy and--and Nick was with--with me."

"But who was the leader--the instigator of the foul deed?"

Close to the swollen lips of the dying man bent the ear of Dyke
Darrel, every nerve on the alert to catch the faint reply.

A name was uttered that caused Dyke Darrel to spring to his feet with
a great cry.

CHAPTER X.

BLACK HOLLOW.

"What was it?--WHO was it?" cried Harper Elliston, seizing the arm of
Dyke Darrel, and penetrating him with a keen glance.

"It does not matter