-shot muzzle-loader. The
Bransford was an automatic, steel-frame, high velocity----"

"The better head he has the more apt he is to do the unexpected----"

"Aw, shut up! You've got incipient paresis! Stuff your ears in your
mouth and go to sleep!"

The captain sought his couch convinced, but holding his first opinion,
savagely minded to arrest Mr. Long rather than let him have a gun to
stand guard with. He was spared the decision. Mr. Long declined Gurdon's
proffered gun, saying that he would be right there and he was a poor
shot anyway.

Gurdon slept; Long took his place--and Captain Rex, from the bed,
watched the watcher. Never was there a more faithful sentinel than Mr.
Long. Without relaxing his vigilance even to smoke, he strained every
faculty lest the wily Bransford should creep out through the shadows.
The captain saw him, a stooped figure, sitting motionless by his rock,
always alert, peering this way and that, turning his head to listen.
Once Tobe saw something. He crept noiselessly to the bed and shook his
chief. Griffith came, with his gun. Something was stirring in the
bushes. After a little it moved out of the shadows. It was a prowling
coyote. The captain went back to bed once more convinced of Long's
fidelity, but resolved to keep a relentless eye on him just the same.
And all unawares, as he revolved the day's events in his mind, the
captain dropped off to troubled sleep.

Mr. Long woke him at three. There had been a temptation to ride away,
but the saddles were at the head of the bed, the ground was stony; he
would be heard. He might have made an attempt to get both guns from
under the pillow, but detection meant ruin for him, since to shoot these
boys or to hurt them was out of the question. Escape by violence would
have been easy and assured. Jeff preferred to trust his wits. He was
enjoying himself very much.

When the captain got his relentless eyes open and realized what had
chanced he saw that further doubt was unworthy. Half an hour later the
unworthy captain stole noiselessly to Long's bedside and saw, to his
utter rage and distraction, that Mr. Bransford was there again. It was
almost too much to bear. He felt that he should always hate Long, even
after Bransford was safely hanged. Bransford's head had slipped from
Long's pillow. Hating himself, Griffith subtly withdrew the miner's
folded overalls and went through the pockets.

He found there a knife smelling of dynamite, matches, a tu