“Can’t we let my mate, Apache Jack, in with us?  I’ll stand for him.”

“No, no, I don’t know anything about Apache Jack; and I can trust you.  We can manage better alone, and I’d rather have one-half than one-third.”

“Trust me, kin you? you—­fool,” thought Bute.  “So ye thinks I’ll sit down and divide the plunder socially with you when I kin give yer a quiet dig in the ribs and take it all.  One more man now won’t matter.  I’m a-goin’ ter try fer enough ter-night ter take me well out of these parts.”

Bute’s face was sinister enough to suggest any phase of evil, and Brandt well knew that he was capable of what he meditated.  It was now the policy of both parties, however, to be very friendly, and Bute was still further mellowed by a draught of liquor from Brandt’s flask.

They had several games of cards in which it was managed that Bute’s winnings should be the larger; and at nine in the evening they started on what was to Bute another expedition of robbery and murder.  Mr. Alford, who was on the alert, saw them depart with a deep sigh of relief.  The night was cloudy, but the moon gave plenty of light for travelling.  Brandt soon secured his horse, and then appeared to give full rein to his careless, reckless spirit.

As they approached the stream, he remarked, “I say, Bute, it’s too bad we can’t use the pasteboards while on the jog; but I can win a five out of you by an old game of ours.  I bet you I can empty my revolver quicker ’n you can.”

“We’d better save our amernition and make no noise.”

“Oh, pshaw!  I always have better luck when I’m free and careless like.  It’s your sneaking fellers that always get caught.  Besides, who’ll notice?  This little game is common enough all through the mountains, and everybody knows that there’s no mischief in such kind of firing.  I want to win back some of my money.”

“Well, then, take you up; go ahead.”

Instantly from Brandt’s pistol there were six reports following one another so quickly that they could scarcely be distinguished.

“Now beat that if you can!” cried Brandt, who had a second and concealed revolver ready for an emergency.

“The fool!” thought Bute, “to put himself at the marcy of any man.  I can pluck him to-night like a winged pa’tridge;” but he too fired almost as quickly as his companion.

“You only used five ca’tridges in that little game, my friend,” said Brandt.

“Nonsense!  I fired so quick you couldn’t count ’em.”

“Now see here, Bute,” resumed Brandt, in an aggrieved tone, “you’ve got to play fair with me.  I’ve cut my eye-teeth since you used to fleece me, and I’ll swear you fired only five shots.  Let’s load and try again.”

“What the use of sich ——­ nonsense?  You’ll swar that you fired the quickest; and of course I’ll swar the same, and there’s nobody here ter jedge.  What’s more, Ralph Brandt, I wants you and every man ter know that I always keeps a shot in reserve, and that I never misses.  So let’s load and jog on, and stop foolin’.”