without a word, when they stopped him. "Well, wot did ye make out?" demanded one, laconically.
"He says he didn't take the gold—that the robbery was planned and executed by his partner. It is awful to think of taking his life."
"It's his own fault, lad—he should have thunk o' those things afore he consented to help on the job."
"When will they—they—"
"Perform the ceremony? I reckon some time between now an' sunrise, onless the crowd changes its mind. They're goin' to talk it over agin ez soon as Cozzins comes back. He's huntin' fer thet other rascal."
After this Earl joined Randy, who was anxious to hear what Guardley had had to say. The two walked some distance away.
"I believe Tom Roland stole the gold," began Earl, "but Guardley was willing he should, and he remained on guard around the tent while Roland dug it up, so he's just as guilty."
"But to take his life—" shuddered Randy.
"I hope they change their minds about that. And, by the way, we were right about that money in Boston. Roland got that, and he had that lost letter, too. Guardley admitted it, although he didn't give me any particulars. He is trying to lay the blame of everything on Roland."
A shout interrupted the conversation at this point. Cozzins had come back after an exciting but fruitless
