“Then let’s git off this doggone thing,” suggested Pete.

“She stops onct before we git in,” said Brevoort.  “It’s gittin’ dark—­and we got one chanct.  When she slows down, we go into the baggage-car there and tell the boss we’re lookin’ for our war-bag, which we didn’t have.  Jest about the time she stops, we drop off.  The side door’s open.”

“We’ll be plumb afoot,” said Pete.

“Yes.  And we’ll have to hole up somewhere till we git some store-clothes—­and change our looks—­and mebby our luck, which is runnin’ bad right now.”

“Do we split up when we hit town?” queried Pete.

“We got to:  and you want to git rid of that there cash just as quick as you kin.  Got any of your own money on you?”

“Got a couple of month’s pay.  Yon got the tickets.  I’ll give you that.”

“Forget it!  Small change don’t count right now.  Awhile back I was thinkin’ of puttin’ it up to you that we split the big money and take a little pasear up to Alaska, where it ain’t so warm.  The Spider dassent squeal to the law, bein’ in bad hisself.  We could sure make a get-away with it.  But that there telegraph done settled that deal.”

“It was settled afore that, Ed.”

“Meanin’ you wouldn’t split, anyhow?”

“That’s what.”

“But it’s crooked money, Pete.  And it ain’t lucky.  Supposin’ we get caught?  Who gits the money?  The Spider, or Arguilla’s bunch, or you or me?  Not on your life!  The cops get it—­and keep it.”

“That’s all right.  But if I git through, these here pesos goes to that bank.  Anyhow, you said it ain’t lucky money.  So I aim to git away from it pronto.  Then I’m square with The Spider—­and I quit.”

“You can’t shake the game that easy, Pete.  I quit when we started for Sanborn—­and what did we run into?  And you bein’ with me gits you in bad, likewise.”

“If that’s what’s botherin’ you, why, I’ll take the chanct, and stick,” said Pete.

“Nope.  Right now I’m lookin’ out for myself, and nobody else.  If they kin hang that last deal onto me—­and you know what I mean—­why, your Uncle Ed’ll sure have to take the long trail.  And I aim to keep a-ridin’ in the sun for a spell yet.  We’re gittin’ clost to town.  Mebby we can drop off easy and sift out of sight without any fuss.  Then we got a chanct to change our clothes and git rid of that dough.  They’ll be lightin’ the lamps right soon.  Them saddle-bags buckled?”

“They sure are.”

“All right.  When you hear ’em whistle for the crossin’ jest stand up and drop ’em out of the window.  Nobody kin see you from behind.  Then we mosey into the baggage-car and tell the agent in there we’re lookin’ for our war-bag.  Bein’ express messenger, he packs a gun.  You want to step lively for that side door.”

“I git you, Ed. What’s all them lights out there?”

“That’s the town.  She’s jest whistlin’ for the crossin’.  Dump your freight—­easy, like you was lookin’ out at the scenery.  That’s her.  Now, stretch your arms and kind of look round.  The conductor is out on the back platform.  Come on!”