“Well, since the subject is broached, I don’t mind giving you an account of the most dangerous expedition that I ever undertook; but mum is the word, for if that d——­d Brown should get hold of me, I should have to swing for it.”

“O, mum it is,” we all repeated; and none were louder than the inspector in giving the promise.

“Well, the fact of it is,” Jackson continued, “soon after I got here, and began handling the ‘pasteboards,’ I made the acquaintance of a young fellow who was at work mining with an uncle.  I managed to clean him pretty well out; and then he used to steal pretty smart sums from his relative, until at last the old man missed his dust, and remonstrated against such injustice.

“One day, after a hard quarrel, the nephew came to me, and proposed that we should enter his uncle’s tent, and take what gold he had left, and divide it equally between us.  I didn’t like the idea, but my friend was so sanguine that a few thousand pounds could be made without much of an effort, that I at last consented.”

“I ’spose you mean that affair of Critchet’s,” the inspector said.  “I could have told you that nothing was to be got in that quarter.”

“How—­you know of that attempt at mur—­”

He did not finish the sentence, for the word seemed to choke him.

“Know of it?” repented the inspector; “of course I did.  Don’t I belong to a gang that hears of all such things?  What would an organization be worth unless the news was reported?”

“But you didn’t know that I was connected with the matter, did you?”

“Never you mind me—­when you belong to the association you will know as much as I do.  I’ll give you the credit of saying that the job you undertook was well conducted, and only failed through the old fellow’s shrewdness.  Now drive on, and don’t be bashful.”

“We agreed upon a night,” Jackson continued, “and about one o’clock we crept into old Critchet’s tent, and began digging where we supposed the dust was buried, but to our disappointment found it was gone.

“My companion was so enraged that he uttered an exclamation loud enough to awaken his uncle, and he sprang from his bed and shouted for help.  We feared that his cries would bring assistance, when we knew that our errand would be suspected, and that our arrest would be certain.  We seemed animated by a kindred feeling, and both of our knives struck the old fellow at the same moment.  He gave a groan, and fell to the ground, and then, fearing that he was not finished, we dealt half a dozen more stabs, and ran, as fast as our legs could carry us, to a gambling saloon, where we endeavored to forget our disappointment and terror by imbibing deeply of liquor.

“A little before daylight we stole back to the tent, thinking that we would raise an alarm in case he was dead; but we discovered that the old fellow had crept from his tent to a store kept by two Yankees.  We tracked him by his blood, and feared that we were lost, but Follet—­”