“The money—­at the Concho.”

“Oh, that!  Why, Billy, I was jest stringin’ you!  Supposin’ somebody was to make a try for it; there’s Chance like to be prowlin’ around and the safe ain’t standin’ open nights.  Besides, Jack sleeps next to the office.  That was a josh.”

“Well, I could handle Chance,” said Corliss.  “And I know the combination to the safe, if it hasn’t been changed.  You said Jack was likely to be away nights, now.”

Fadeaway shook his head.  “You’re dreamin’, Bill.  ’Sides, I wouldn’t touch a job like that for less’n five hundred.”

“Would you—­for five hundred?”

“I dunno.  Depends on who I was ridin’ with.”

“Well, I’ll divvy up—­give you five hundred if you’ll come in on it.”

Again Fadeaway shook his head.  “It’s too risky, Billy.  ’Course you mean all right—­but I reckon you ain’t got nerve enough to put her through.”

“I haven’t!” flashed Corliss.  “Try me!”

“And make a get-away,” continued the cowboy.  “I wouldn’t want to see you pinched.”

“I’ll take a chance, if you will,” said Corliss, now assuming, as Fadeaway had intended, the role of leader in the proposed robbery.

“How you expect to get clear—­when they find it out?”

“I could get old man Soper to hide me out till I could get to Sagetown.  He’ll do anything for money.  I could be on the Limited before the news would get to Antelope.”

“And if you got pinched, first thing you’d sing out ‘Fadeaway,’ and then me for over the road, eh?”

“Honest, Fade.  I’ll swear that I won’t give you away, even if I get caught.  Here’s my hand on it.”

“Give me nine hundred and I’ll go you,” said Fadeaway, shaking hands with his companion.

Corliss hesitated.  Was the risk worth but half the money involved?  “Five’s a whole lot, Fade.”

“Well, seein’ you’re goin’ to do the gettin’ at it, why, mebby I’d risk it for five hundred.  I dunno.”

“You said you’d stand by a pal, Fade.  Now’s your chance.”

“All right.  See here, Bill.  You cut out the booze all you can to-day.  Foot it out to the Beaver Dam to-night and I’ll have a hoss for you.  We can ride up the old canon trail.  Nobody takes her nowadays, so we’ll be under cover till we hit the ford.  We can camp there back in the brush and tackle her next evenin’.  So-long.”

Fadeaway was downstairs and out on the street before Corliss realized that he had committed himself to a desperate and dangerous undertaking.  He recalled the expression in Fadeaway’s eyes when they had shaken hands.  Unquestionably the cowboy meant business.

CHAPTER IX

SUNDOWN’S FRIEND

Bud Shoop was illustrating, with quaint and humorous gestures and adjectives, one of his early experiences as Ranger on the Apache Reservation.  The men, grouped around the night-fire, smoked and helped the tale along with reminiscent suggestions and ejaculations of interest and curiosity.  In the midst of a vivid account of the juxtaposition of a telephone battery and a curious yet unsuspicious Apache, Shoop paused in the recital and gazed out across the mesa.  “It’s the boss,” he said, getting to his feet.  “Wonder what’s up?”