young lady, both on horseback.

The gentleman's dress and general style plainly indicated that he was
not a miner, nor a storekeeper, nor a barkeeper; while it was equally
evident that the lady was neither a washerwoman, a cook, nor a member of
either of the very few professions which were open to ladies on the
Pacific Coast in those days.

This much every miner quickly decided for himself; but after so
deciding, each miner reached the uttermost extremity of his wits, and
devoted himself to staring.

The couple reined up before the saloon, and the gentleman drew something
small and black and square from his pocket.

"Gentlemen," said he, "we are looking for an old friend of ours, and
have traced him to this camp. We scarcely know whether it would be any
use to give his name, but here is his picture. Can any one remember
having seen the person here?"

Every one looked toward Colonel Two, he being the man with the most
practical tongue in camp.

The colonel took the picture, and Weasel slipped up behind him and
looked over his shoulder. The colonel looked at the picture, abruptly
handed it back, looked at the young lady, and then gazed vacantly into
space, and seemed very uncomfortable.

"Been here, but gone," said the colonel, at length.