"How do you know?"

"She told me so just now, and, what's more, she sent McNamara and
his crowd down the creek instead of up. That's why we got away so
easily."

"Well, well--ain't she a brick? She's even with us now. By-the-
way, I wonder how much we cleaned up, anyhow--let's weigh it."
Going to the bed, Dextry turned back the blankets, exposing four
moose-skin sacks, wet and heavy, where he had thrown them.

"There must have been twenty thousand dollars with what I gave
Wheaton," said Glenister.

At that moment, without warning, the door was flung open, and as
the young man jerked the blankets into place he whirled, snatched
the six-shooter that Dextry had discarded, and covered the
entrance.

"Don't shoot, boy!" cried the new-comer, breathlessly. "My, but
you're nervous!"

Glenister dropped his gun. It was Cherry Malotte; and, from her
heaving breast and the flying colors in her cheeks, the men saw
she had been running. She did not give them time to question, but
closed and locked the door while the words came tumbling from her:

"They're on to you, boys--you'd better duck out quick. They're on
their way up here now."