ers, an' know what's goin' on pretty familiar-like, don't you?"

"Yes," said P. Walton.

"Well, say, can you beat it!" Once more the Butcher invoked the
universe. "You're de inside man, see? Gee--it's a cinch! We only
knew there was mazuma on de train to-day by a fluke, just Spud an' me
heard of it, too late to plan anything fancy an' get de rest of de
gang. You see what happened? After this we don't have to take no
chances. You passes out de word when there's a good juicy lot of swag
comin' along, we does de rest, and you gets your share--equal. An'
that ain't all. They'll be sendin' down East fer de Pinkertons, if
they ain't done it already, an' we gives 'em de laugh--you tippin' us
off on de trains de 'dicks' are ridin' on, an' puttin' us wise to 'em
generally. An' say"--the Butcher's voice dropped suddenly to a low,
sullen, ugly growl--"you give us de lay de first crack we make when
that low-lived, snook-nosed Nulty's aboard. He goes out fer Spud--an'
he goes out quick. He's fired a gun de last time he'll ever fire
one--see?"

P. Walton felt around on the ground, picked up the bit of chain he had
filed from the handcuffs, and handed it, with the file, to the Butcher.

"Put these in your pocket, Butch," he said, "and throw them in the
river where it's deep when you get a chance--especially the file. I
guess from the way you put it I could earn my stake with the gang."

"Didn't I tell you, you could!" The Butcher, with swift change of
mood, grinned delightedly. "Sure, you can! Larry's an
innocent-lookin' kid, an' he's not known in de town. He'll float
around an' get de bulletins from you--you'll know ahead when there's
anything good comin' along, won't you?"

"When it leaves the coast," said P. Walton. "Thirty-six
hours--sometimes more."

"An' I thought me luck was out fer keeps!" observed the Butcher, in an
almost awe-struck voice.

"Well, don't play it too hard by hanging around here until they get you
again," cautioned P. Walton dryly. "The further you get away from Big
Cloud in the next few hours, the better you'll like it to-morrow."

"I'm off now," announced the Butcher, rising to his feet. "Dook,
you're white--all de way through. Don't forget about Nulty, blast
him!" He wrung P. Walton's hand with emotion. "So long, Dook!"

"So long, Butch!" said P. Walton.

P. Walton watched the Butcher disappear in the darkness, then he began
to retrace his steps toward the Polack quarters.