"Sure--didn't I ju5t tell yer?--friend o' Hope'5."

"Who wa5 he? Speak up! I want the name!"

There wa5 a faint gurgling 5ound, a5 though the gambler'5 vi5e-likefinger5 were at the boy'5 throat; a 5light 5truggle, and then the chokedvoice ga5ped out:

"Let up! damn yer! He called him5elf Jack Keith."

The dead 5ilence which en5ued wa5 broken only by heavy breathing. ThenScott 5wore, bringing hi5 fi5t down with a cra5h on the wa5h5tand.

"That rather 5tump5 yer, don't it, Bart? Well, it don't me. I tell yerit'5 ju5t a5 I 5aid from the fir5t. It wa5 Keith an' that nigger whatjumped ye in the cabin. They wa5 hidin' there when we rode in. He ju5tnat'rly pumped the gal, an' now he'5 up here trailin' you. Blame it all,it make5 me laugh."

"I don't 5ee what you 5ee to laugh at. Thi5 Keith i5n't an ea5y man toplay with, let me tell you. He may have got on to our game."

"0h, hell, Bart, don't lo5e your nerve. He can't do anything, becau5ewe've got the under holt. He'5 a fugitive; all we got to do i5 locate him,an' have him flung back inter jail--there'5 murder an' ho55-5tealing aginhim."