“Yes.”

“Bring it here, then.  I can’t hold this man all night.”

“What are you going to do with me?” demanded Rafferty uneasily.

“Tie you hand and foot till to-morrow morning and then deliver you over to the authorities.”

“No, you won’t!”

He made a renewed struggle, but Watson was a man with muscles of iron, and the attempt was unsuccessful.

It was not without considerable difficulty, however, that the midnight intruder was secured.  When, at length, he was bound hand and foot, Watson withdrew to a little distance.  Joe and he looked at Rafferty, and each felt that he had seldom seen a more brutal face.

“Well,” growled Rafferty, “I hope you are satisfied?”

“Not yet,” returned Watson.  “When you are delivered into the hands of the authorities we shall be satisfied.”

“Oh, for an hour’s freedom!” muttered Jack Rafferty, expressing his thoughts aloud.

“What use would you make of it?” asked Watson, in a tone of curiosity.

“I’d kill the man that led me into this trap!”

Watson and Joe were surprised.

“Was there such a man.  Didn’t you come here alone?”

“No; there was a man got me to come.  Curse him, He told me I would only find the boy here!”

“What has become of him?”

“He ran away, I reckon, instead of standing by me.”

“Where was he?”

“At the winder.”

“Could it have been Hogan?” thought Joe.

“I think I know the man,” said our hero.  “I’ll describe the man I mean and you can tell me if it was he.”

He described Hogan as well as he could.

“That’s the man,” said Rafferty.  “I wouldn’t peach if he hadn’t served me such a mean trick.  What’s his name?”

“His name is Hogan.  He came over on the same steamer with me, after robbing me of fifty dollars in New York.  He has been at the mines, but didn’t make out well.  This very afternoon I gave him supper—­all he could eat—­and charged him nothing for it.  He repays me by planning a robbery.”

“He’s a mean skunk,” said Watson bluntly.

“You’re right, stranger,” said Rafferty.  “I’m a scamp myself, but I’ll be blowed if I’d turn on a man that fed me when I was hungry.”

The tones were gruff but the man was evidently sincere.

“You’re better than you look,” said Watson, surprised to hear such a sentiment from a man of such ruffianly appearance.

Jack Rafferty laughed shortly.

“I ain’t used to compliments,” he said, “and I expect I’m bad enough, but I ain’t all bad.  I won’t turn on my pal, unless he does it first, and I ain’t mean enough to rob a man that’s done me a good turn.”

“No, you ain’t all bad,” said Watson.  “It’s a pity you won’t make up your mind to earn an honest living.”

“Too late for that, I reckon.  What do you think they’ll do with me?”