Dexter likewise stood up. He stacked the yellow backs in a neat pile, folded them lengthwise, and slipped the packet into the inside pocket of his tunic. Then he began thrusting chinking handfuls of gold into the receptacle of the chamois belt.
"You have the same chance of keeping that stuff as I have of turning into a preacher," said Crill, his face distorted in a hideous sneer.
The corporal looked up from under one lifted eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?" he inquired.
"Do you think Stark and his gang are going to let you get away with that? It's mine, but it also belongs to them." The murderer showed his teeth in a venomous grin. "Stark and his bunch are going to be here before you can get away. Or if they should happen to miss you, they'll hound you down through the woods until you croak on the trail. You didn't think Stark was going to let anybody cop fifteen thousand out of his fingers, did you?"
Dexter finished stowing away the gold pieces, and deliberately fastened the pocket flaps. "I can't manage with one hand," he said casually to Alison. "Will you help me buckle this belt around my waist?"
As the girl moved forward to give assistance, he turned abruptly to Crill. "You had some such mental reservation when you sat down to play?" he asked. "You knew if I won I wouldn't be allowed to keep my winnings? In other words, you were counting on Stark from the beginning?"
"I hope to tell you I was! Do I look crazy to you? I wasn't playing to lose anything."
"I only wanted to know," said the corporal. "I had a notion that I might return your money to you—in good season. I don't want it—wouldn't touch it. Wouldn't soil my hands. I'd about made up my mind to give it back to you, but that speech of yours has changed things." His teeth fastened in his lip as he fixed the outlaw with scornful regard. "I'll tell you what I've decided to do with it now—having won it fairly," he ended. "I'm going down to the rapids and dump it overboard."
Crill started as though he had received a blow in the face. "What?" he gasped. "Fifteen thousand—your money—fifteen thousand dollars? Why, you wouldn't—"
"To thwart Stark," returned the corporal serenely, "of course I would."