"My name is Brown," said he; and Frank knew he was the very man his
uncle expected to meet in San Diego. "I owe Mr. Winters some money for a
drove of horses I bought of him before he went to the States, and I have
come up to pay it. I have here twelve thousand dollars in gold," he
added, laying his hand on his saddle-bags, which seemed to be heavy and
well filled.

"Couldn't you remain until day after to-morrow?" asked Frank. "Uncle
James will be at home then."

"I can't spare the time. I am on my way to Fort Yuma, where I have some
business to transact that may detain me three or four days. I don't like
to carry this money there and back, for it is heavy, and there is no
knowing what sort of travelers one may meet on the road. Wouldn't it be
all right if I should leave it here with you?"

"Yes, sir," replied Frank, eager to accept the responsibility; "I can
take care of it. But I thought you might want a receipt."

"I am not particular about that. Mr. Winters has trusted me for about
six months, and I think I can afford to trust him for as many days. I'll
call and get the receipt when I come back."

As Mr. Brown said this, he dismounted, and Pierre, who, ever since his
employer's departure, had seemed to have nothing to do but to loiter
about the house, and who had stood at the opposite side of the court,
listening to every word of the conversation, came up to hold his horse.
The visitor shouldered his saddle-bags, and followed Frank into a room
which went by the name of "the office," where Mr. Winters transacted all