continued speaking in a tone of polite irony: "The Wells, Fargo
messenger is the party I am laying for. He's coming over this trail
with a package of diamonds. That's what I'm after. At first I thought
'Fighting Bob' over there by the rock might have it on him; but he
doesn't act like any Wells, Fargo Express agent I have ever tackled
before, and I guess the laugh's on me. I seem to have been weeping
over the wrong grave." He replaced his sombrero on his head at a
rakish angle, and waved his hand. "Ladies, you are at liberty to
proceed."

But instantly he stepped forward again, and brought his face so close
to the window that they could see the whites of his eyes. "Before we
part," he murmured, persuasively, "you wouldn't mind leaving me
something as a souvenir, would you?" He turned the skull-like
openings of the mask full upon Miss Post.

Mrs. Truesdall exclaimed, hysterically: "Why, certainly not!" she
cried. "Here's everything I have, except what's sewn inside my waist,
where I can't possibly get at it. I assure you I cannot. The
proprietor of that hotel told us we'd probably--meet you, and so I
have everything ready." She thrust her two hands through the window.
They held a roll of bills, a watch, and her rings

Miss Post laughed in an ecstasy of merriment "Oh, no, aunt," she
protested, "don't. No, not at all. The gentleman only wants a
keepsake. Something to remember us by. Isn't that it?" she asked. She
regarded the blood-red mask steadily with a brilliant smile.

The road agent did not at once answer. At her words he had started
back with such sharp suspicion that one might have thought he