bank, it's well not to be seen together--eh?"

"No, I'm not in on that business, Mr. Kerry. I'm for breaking banks,
not burgling 'em," was the cheerful reply.

They laughed, but Crozier knew that the observant gambling farmer was not
talking at haphazard. They had met on the highway, as it were, many
times since Crozier had come to Askatoon, and Crozier knew his man.

"Well, what are we going to do, and who will see us if we do it?"
Crozier asked briskly.

"Studd Bradley and his secret-service corps have got their eyes on this
street--and on you," returned Sibley dryly.

Crozier's face sobered and his eyes became less emotional. "I don't see
them anywhere," he answered, but looking nowhere.

"They're in Gus Burlingame's office. They had you under observation
while you were in the bank."

"I couldn't run off with the land, could I?" Crozier remarked dryly, yet
suggestively, in his desire to see how much Sibley knew.

"Well, you said it was a bank. I've no more idea what it is you're
tryin' to run off with than I know what an ace is goin' to do when
there's a joker in the pack," remarked Sibley; "but I thought I'd tell
you that Bradley and his lot are watchin' you gettin' ready to run."
Then he hastily told what he had seen.