"I guess neither the sheriff, nor the selectmen, nor the vigilance committee care to attend to business which is so far from them."
"Do they know of it?"
"Indeed they do. This fellow—Capt. Jordan, as he calls himself—has infested Dead Snake Canyon for a week or more, and has stopped a dozen travelers; but he may stop a dozen more before he gets up the dander of the Silver citizens. I was told of him, and that's what made me take the disguise of an honest farmer."
"Perhaps they'll stop us," said Mrs. Smithers.
"That's a dead sure thing," answered Brady.
"Is there no other road, sir, that we could take to avoid this desperado?" asked Smithers.
"None that I know of."
"What will we do?" said Smithers, with a groan of despair.
"Put your money in your boots and appeal to the fellow's generosity to let you go on with your stores. Maybe he'll be after playing at higher game than robbing a poor emigrant."
"Some of those men," remarked Smithers, "are said to have some generosity."