"Well?"

"That's the name of that Pike County man who was killed by Injins in the
plains. The 'Frisco papers had all the particulars last night; may be
it's for that fellow. It hasn't got a postmark. Who left it here?"

Mr. Carden summoned a clerk. It appeared that the letter had been left
by a certain Brant Fauquier, to be called for.

Captain Stevens smiled. "Brant's been too busy dealin' faro to think of
'em agin, and since that shootin' affair at Angels' I hear he's skipped
to the southern coast somewhere. Cal Johnson, his old chum, was in the
up stage from Stockton this afternoon."

"Did you come by the up stage from Stockton this afternoon?" said
Carden, looking up.

"Yes, as far as Ten-mile Station--rode the rest of the way here."

"Did you notice a queer little old-fashioned kid--about so high--like a
runaway school-boy?"

"Did I? By G--d, sir, he treated me to drinks."

Carden jumped from his chair. "Then he wasn't lying!"

"No! We let him do it; but we made it good for the little chap
afterwards. Hello! What's up?"