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The road wound up and down over scarred hillsides and through gorges which cut into the range like sword clefts From one of these it crept up a stiff slope toward the Jack Pot One hundred and fifty yards froive the mules a rest

His lips fra, but the sound died stillborn Sharply through the clear night air rang a rifle shot

Jack did not hear it A bolt of jagged lightning seared through his brain The limp hands of the driver fell away fro as a dry leaf that is crushed in the palm

Froht heavily like aard beasts of prey They crept stealthily forward, rifles in hand, never once lifting their eyes froon

The first looked stolidly down upon the white face and kicked the body with his heavy boot

"By Goad, Dave, us be quits wi' Jack Kilmeny"

The other--it was Peale, the Cornish miner--had stepped on a spoke of the wheel and pulled hion Now he broke out with an oath

"The wagon's empty"

"What!" Trefoyle straightened instantly, then ran to see for hied up in hiely

In their fury they were like barbarians, cursing i in the eance and to win a fortune at the same stroke The latter they had missed The disappointery It was soe

"He'll interfere wi' us no more--not this side o' hell anyway," Peale cried

"Not he An' we'll put hirave where he'll lie safe"

They threw the body into the wagon and cli an unused road that deflected fro to the Jack Pot