Jaggers surrendered his half of the stolen money.

"Now, ye can git up, and go do what's laid out to be done," announced
Josh Owen, peeling a five-dollar bill from the roll and handing it to
his nephew. "First, get the horse headed right, then go on into town
and get the liquor. But don't ye stop to drink in Dunhaven, Danny. If
ye do, ye'll be sure to git inter a fight, and ye might do some talkin'
too. Hustle in, and hustle back, and ye'll find ye can trust me to hold
outer to-night's pickings safe for ye. Don't ye worry a mite on the way
to town or back, Danny boy."

If a scowl could have killed, Dan would have triumphed, even now, at the
expense of his uncle's life. But Josh paid no heed to black looks. He
thought he knew this nephew of his.

"Hurry along, Danny," he coaxed. "My throat is gittin' mighty dry for a
bit o' liquor."

"Give me another five-spot," begged Jaggers.

"Not another dollar till ye come back, Danny," rejoined his uncle,
firmly. "The quicker ye start, an' return, the quicker ye'll have yer
share of the night's business. Now, git!"

Using ugly language under his breath, Dan Jaggers turned and shuffled
off through the woods, well knowing that he would suffer from his
uncle's heavy hands if he did not.

Josh now extinguished the light by shutting off the slide of his dark
lantern. Then, after taking a look at the boys, he seated himself near