“No, I don’t aim to mingle with no higher civilization than I got in ’Frisco.  I use that word ‘higher’ like it was applied to meat.  Not that I wouldn’t seem apropos, I’m stylish enough for Fifth Avenue or anywheres, but I like the West.  Speakin’ of modes an’ styles, when I get all lit up in that gray woosted suit of mine, I guess I make the jaded sight-seers set up an’ take notice—­eh?  Somethin’ doin’ every minute in the cranin’ of necks—­what?  Nothin’ gaudy, but the acme of neatness an’ form, as the feller said who sold it to me.”

Their common peril brought the friends together again, into that close bond which had been theirs without interruption until this recent change in the younger had led him to choose paths at variance with the old man’s ideas; and now they spoke, heart to heart, in the half-serious, half-jesting ways of old, while beneath each whimsical irony was that mutual love and understanding which had consecrated their partnership.

Arriving at the end of the road, the Vigilantes debouched and went into the darkness of the canon behind their leader, to whom the trails were familiar.  He bade them pause finally, and gave his last instructions.

“They are on the alert, so you want to be careful.  Divide into two parties and close in from both sides, creeping as near to the pickets as possible without discovery.  Remember to wait for the last blast.  When it comes, cut loose and charge like Sioux.  Don’t shoot to kill at first, for they’re only soldiers and under orders, but if they stand—­well, every man must do his work.”

Dextry appealed to the dim figures forming the circle.

“I leave it to you, gents, if it ain’t better for me to go inside than for the boy.  I’ve had more experience with giant powder, an’ I’m so blamed used up an’ near gone it wouldn’t hurt if they did get me, while he’s right in his prime—­”

Glenister stopped him.  “I won’t yield the privilege.  Come now—­to your places, men.”

They melted away to each side while the old prospector paused to wring his partner’s hand.

“I’d ruther it was me, lad, but if they get you—­God help ’em!” He stumbled after the departing shadows, leaving Roy alone.  With his naked fingers, Glenister ripped open the powder cases and secreted the contents upon his person.  Each cartridge held dynamite enough to devastate a village, and he loaded them inside his pockets, inside his shirt, and everywhere that he had room, till he was burdened and cased in an armor one-hundredth part of which could have blown him from the face of the earth so utterly as to leave no trace except, perhaps, a pit ripped out of the mountain-side.  He looked to his fuses and saw that they were wrapped in oiled paper, then placed them in his hat.  Having finished, he set out, walking with difficulty under the weight he carried.