“Guess not, fer men say as how you hes dimints ’bout yer clothes, ef yer goes broke with gold dust.”
“I have diamonds with me; two splendid ones, and you shall have your choice if you aid me.”
“And the thousand dollars, too, pard?”
“Yes.”
“Say both dimints and nine hundred dollars, an’ I’ll aid yer, an’ yer’ll then hev a hundred dollars to speckilate on, an’ yer is a born gambler, men say, so won’t go broke long.”
The speakers were standing in the shadow of a large tree. The scene around them was picturesque in the extreme, for the open prairie stretched upon the one hand, with twoscore horses lariated out to feed upon the rich grass, and upon the other was a grove of timber, now illuminated by a dozen camp fires, around which sat a dashing, reckless set of men, smoking and talking over the dangers they had known.
The bivouac in the woods, with the red glare of the fires, the horses picketed upon the prairie, and the silvery light of the moon casting a halo over all, made up a scene for the brush of an artist.
But the two men standing in the shadow of the tree that stood alone, as it were, a few yards out of the grove, cared not for the scene of beauty before them.
Their eyes were bent on each other, and their thoughts were bent on some stern purpose. One was a prisoner, the other his guard.