WHEN John returned to his desk he found Dan Wiley standing in the middle of the room pulling his long black moustache with unusual energy.
The young lawyer seated himself and motioned the mountaineer to a chair.
"No time ter fool."
"What's up?"
"Hell's afloat and the river's a risin!"
"Well?"
"Steve's gang from up in the hills in my township is on the way ter Independence. They're goin' ter raid old Sam Nickaroshinski, the Jew storekeeper, and rob 'im ter-night."
"Nonsense, Dan, they haven't got that low."
"Hit's jest like I tell ye. They're a gang of fightin' drunken devils. They'll do anything. I got a man to join 'em, an' he gimme the whole plot. Steve Hoyle don't know nothin' about it no more than their township leader does."
"Did you bring your men?" John asked.
"Yes, a half dozen. They ain't but six er
