ing to stand by you against Mr. Cullison,
you'll have to tell the truth. Why, man, I've even got the mask you wore
and the cloth you cut it from."

"I reckon it must a-been some one else, Major. Wisht I could help you, but
I can't."

Bucky rose. "All right. If you can't help me, I can't help you."
Apparently he dismissed the matter from his mind, for he looked at his
watch and turned to the cattleman. "Mr. Cullison, I reckon I'll run out
and have some supper. Do you mind staying here with this man till I get
back?"

"No. That's all right, Bucky. Don't hurry, I'll keep him entertained."
Perhaps it was not by chance that his eye wandered to a blacksnake whip
hanging on the wall.

O'Connor sauntered to the door. The frightened gaze of the prisoner clung
to him as if for safety.

"Major--Colonel--you ain't a-going," he pleaded.

"Only for an hour or two. I'll be back. I wouldn't think of saying
good-by--not till we reach Yuma."

With that the door closed behind him. Blackwell cried out, hurriedly,
eagerly. "Mister O'Connor!"

Bucky's head reappeared. "What! Have you reduced me to the ranks already?
I was looking to be a general by the time I got back," he complained
whimsically.

"I--I'll tell you everything--every last thing. Mr. Cullison--he's aiming
to kill me soon as you've gone."

"I've got no time to fool away, Blackwell. I'm hungry. If you mean
business get to it. But remember that whatever you say will be used
against you."

"I'll tell you any dog-goned thing you want to know. You've got me beat.
I'm plumb wore out--sick. A man can't stand everything."

O'Connor came in and closed the door. "Let's have it, then--the whole
story. I want it all: how you came to know about this shipment of money,
how you pulled it off, what you have done with it, all the facts from
beginning to the end."

"Lemme sit down, Captain. I'm awful done up. I reckon while I was in the
hills I've been underfed."

"Sit down. There's a good dinner waiting for you at Clune's when you get
through."

Even then, though he must have known that lies could not avail, the man
sprinkled his story with them. The residuum of truth that remained after
these had been sifted out was something like this.

He had found on the street a letter that had inadvertently been dropped.
It was to Jordan of the Cattlemen's National Bank, and it notified him
that $20,000 was to be shipped to him by the W. & S. Express Company on
the night of the robb