his other aliases, it's my bounden duty to convert him!"
"Is Sheriff Smith at Mt. Fisher now?"
"Yes, he is to meet us in that piece of woods yonder," pointing to the left. "There he'll wait. It's only a few rods from the mine, and you're to go on ahead to open the way."
"I'll do it with a right good will," said Jack in a voice that boded Mills no good.
"We'll be on the watch, and when your right hand goes up, Sheriff Smith'll appear on the scene, and at his signal I'll show up. I reckon he won't be proper glad to see me!" Watson chuckled.
In another half-hour they reached the woods by a trail that concealed them from view and their low "Hello" was answered by Sheriff Smith, who anxiously awaited their coming. Like Jack, this was his first experience in a "norther," but he had been more fortunate in not having left Fredericksburgh until that morning.
Sheriff Smith was a typical mountaineer, tall, muscular and without an ounce of flesh
