“Do you think so?”
“Think so; I know it! And I’ve got to get clear away from this country, or I’m a dead man!”
“Maybe I can be of some use to you—I mean in saving you from Scotty; but you must tell me who was with you that night you came to our cabin.”
“It was Stevens,” said Bob quietly.
“Could you prove it, if you were wanted to?”
“Yes, I could.”
“Well, Bob, there’s your horse, and a trail clear to Denver. Good-by. I hope you’ll do better hereafter than I’ve known you to yet.”
Max turned his back and went into the cabin, where all the rest were gathering around the table. By the time he had filled his plate and had found a seat on an inverted powder-can, Squint-eyed Old Bob was taking his unworthy self out of the cañon, and out of my story, at the best pace he knew how.
He got safely away and never came back; but I am sorry to say he behaved no better, and probably only escaped hanging at last by getting crushed in a snowslide.
Before dinner was ended, a new arrival, and a hungry one, appeared in the person of the Superintendent of Mr. Anderson’s mine near the village, a gentleman whom our firm knew well, and had a high respect for, both as an expert in mining and as an honest man.