flipped the hammer. It was the old "road-agent spin," which Gale as
a boy had practised hours at a time; but that this man was in
earnest he showed by glancing upward sharply when the trader
laughed.

"This one hangs all right," he said; "give me a box of cartridges."

He emptied his gold-sack in payment for the gun and ammunition, then
remarked: "That pretty nearly cleans me. If I had the price I'd
take them both."

Gale wondered what need induced this fellow to spend his last few
dollars on a fire-arm, but he said nothing until the man had
loosened the bottom buttons of his vest and slipped the weapon
inside the band of his trousers, concealing its handle beneath the
edge of his waistcoat. Then he inquired:

"Bound for the outside?"

"No. I'm locating here."

The trader darted a quick glance at him. He did not like this man.

"There ain't much doing in this camp; it's a pretty poor place," he
said, guardedly.

"I'll put in with you, from its looks," agreed the other. "It's got
too many soldiers to be worth a damn." He snarled this bitterly,
with a peculiar leering lift of his lip, as if his words tasted
badly.