"He had all his front teeth a few months ago," replied Mrs. Berryn. "I
do not know how to describe him further--he had no scars, moles, or
other peculiarities which might identify him, except," she continued,
with a faint blush--a wife's blush, which strongly tempted Buffle to
kneel and kiss the ground she stood on--"except a locket I once gave
him, with my portrait, and which he always wore over his heart. I can't
believe he would take it off," said she, with a sob that was followed by
a flood of tears.

The men twisted on their seats, and showed every sign of uneasiness; one
stepped outside to cough, another suddenly attacked the fire and poked
it savagely, Buffle impolitely turned his back to the company, while the
fourth man lost himself in the contemplation of the king of spades,
which card ever afterward showed in its centre a blotch which seemed the
result of a drop of water. Finally Buffle broke the silence by saying:

"I'd give my last ounce, and my shootin'-iron besides, mum, ef I could
put yer on his trail; but I can't remember no such man; ken you,
fellers?"

Three melancholy nods replied in the negative.

"I am very much obliged to you, gentlemen," said Mrs. Berryn. "I will
go back to the crossing and take the next stage. Perhaps, Mr. Buffle, if
I send you my address when I reach San Francisco, you will let me know
if you ever find any traces of him?"

"Depend upon all of us for that, mum," replied Buffle.

"Thank you," said she, and departed as suddenly as she had entered,