. Wal, what do you aim to pay us?”

“Reckon one of them packages more than squares your work in that little job. ’

“Wal, we don’t reckon thet way,” said Smith. “What’s more we ain’t bein’ paid. We want an equal divvy. There’re five of us, an’ five bundles of gold. One for each of us.”

“Blue, what’s your angle on that?” inquired Bell of his confederate, and both look and tone were curious.

“Strikes me fair,” rejoined Blue, nervously.

“Wade, what you think?”

“Chief, you had the idea and planned the job,” said Holden, quickly. “If this was your regular gang you’d divide as always— share and share alike. But I wouldn’t do that here.”

“My sentiments exactly,” declared the chief, with satisfaction. “Smith, you and Hazlitt take one pack of this gold and go on your way.”

“Nope. I won’t agree to thet. You’ll give Blue one pack. An’ he didn’t take as big a part in the job as Jim an’ me.”

“Blue used to trail with me.”

“Wal, I hev my doubts about his trailin’ with you now. . . . Ask him who he was sendin’ telegrams to yestiddy, when we hit the railroad at Belton.”

“Telegrams!” ejaculated Bell, and slowly turned to Blue with a singular vibration through his wiry frame. “Rand, did you send telegrams yesterday?”

“Yes. I wired my folks not to expect me home soon,” replied Blue, suavely enough.

“But you told me you told them before you came to meet me.”

“I know. But my telegram made it definite,” added Blue, his lips just shading gray.

“Ahuh,” grunted Bell, subtly changing.

“Chief, he’s a—liar!” interposed Holden, sharply. The moment had convinced him of the correctness of his suspicion. Blue was a traitor.

“Mebbe he is, at that. But let’s settle with these hombres first,” said the robber, caustically. “Smith, do you and Hazlitt accept what I offered?”

“I should smile we don’t,” snapped Smith viciously, his weasel eyes glinting. They betrayed nerve, purpose, and an estimate of Bell which put Holden on instant cold guard. For some reason Smith did not take Bell’s young comrade seriously.

“All right then. You get nothin’,” retorted the robber chief.

Smith’s reply was to draw his gun. “Bell, you’ll divvy or—” he rasped.

Holden deliberated a moment, divining the instant for his interference. Simm Bell laughed. He had been in such situations before.

“So you throw your gun on me?” he jeered.

“I shore do.”

“What’s your idee?”

“You agree to a square divvy.”

“Simm Bell never goes back on his word.”

“You’ll go back on it now—or I’ll kill you an’ take all this gold!” rang out Smith, beginning to quiver.

Holden flashed into action.