was too self-absorbed to notice it, or accepted it as a satisfactory
characteristic of the half-breed's race. He continued confidently:--

"Now look here, Tom. I want to leave this cursed hole, and get clear out
of the State! Anywhere; over the Oregon line into British Columbia, or
to the coast, where I can get a coasting vessel down to Mexico. It will
cost money, but I've got it. It will cost a lot of risks, but I'll take
them. I want somebody to help me, some one to share risks with me, and
some one to share my luck if I succeed. Help to put me on the other side
of the border line, by sea or land, and I'll give you a thousand dollars
down BEFORE WE START and a thousand dollars when I'm safe."

The half-breed had changed his slouching attitude. It seemed more
indolent on account of the loosely hanging strap that had once held his
haversack, which was still worn in a slovenly fashion over his shoulder
as a kind of lazy sling for his shiftless hand.

"Well, Tom, is it a go? You can trust ME, for you'll have the thousand
in your pocket before you start. I can trust YOU, for I'll kill you
quicker than lightning if you say a word of this to any one before I go,
or play a single trick on me afterwards."

Suddenly the two men were rolling over and over in the underbrush. The
half-breed had thrown himself upon the major, bearing him down to the
ground. The haversack strap for an instant whirled like the loop of a
lasso in the air, and descended over the major's shoulders, pinioning
his arms to his side. Then the half-breed, tearing open his ragged
blouse, stripped off his waist-belt, and as dexterously slipped it over
the ankles of the struggling man.