In the late morning Matt was awake with Jim's first movement, and
thereafter he awoke and dozed with him until midday, when they got up
together and began dressing.

"I'm goin' out to get a paper an' some bread," Matt said. "You boil the
coffee."

As Jim listened, unconsciously his gaze left Matt's face and roved to the
pillow, beneath which was the bundle wrapped in the bandanna handkerchief.
On the instant Matt's face became like a wild beast's.

"Look here, Jim," he snarled. "You've got to play square. If you do me
dirt, I'll fix you. Understand? I'd eat you, Jim. You know that. I'd
bite right into your throat an' eat you like that much beefsteak."

His sunburned skin was black with the surge of blood in it, and his
tobacco-stained teeth were exposed by the snarling lips. Jim shivered and
involuntarily cowered. There was death in the man he looked at. Only the
night before that black-faced man had killed another with his hands, and it
had not hurt his sleep. And in his own heart Jim was aware of a sneaking
guilt, of a train of thought that merited all that was threatened.

Matt passed out, leaving him still shivering. Then a hatred twisted his
own face, and he softly hurled savage curses at the door. He remembered
the jewels, and hastened to the bed, feeling under the pillow for the
bandanna bundle. He crushed it with his fingers to make certain that it
still contained the diamonds. Assured that Matt had not carried them away,
he looked toward the kerosene stove with a guilty start. Then he hurriedly
lighted it, filled the coffee-pot at the sink, and put it over the flame.