testify."

"That's so, Ross, right," chorused the crowd, "We've been running the
old man all night."

"Then how comes your name on this paper?"

"O murdher! will ye listen to him, boys? As if every felly that owed
me a whisky bill didn't come to me and say, 'Ah, Misther Roscommon,' or
'Moike,' as the case moight be, sure it's an illigant sthrike I've made
this day, and it's meself that has put down your name as an original
locater, and yer fortune's made, Mr. Roscommon, and will yer fill me
up another quart for the good luck betune you and me. Ah, but ask Jack
Brown over yar if it isn't sick that I am of his original locations."

The laugh that followed this speech, and its practical application,
convinced the party that they had blundered, that they could obtain no
clue to the real culprits here, and that any attempt by threats would
meet violent opposition. Nevertheless the Doctor was persistent:

"When did you see these men last?"

"When did I see them, is it? Bedad, what with sarvin up the liquor and
keeping me counters dry and swate, I never see them at all."

"That's so, Ross," chorused the crowd again, to whom the whole
proceeding was delightfully farcical.

"Then I can tell you, gentlemen," said the Doctor, stiffly, "that they
were in Monterey last night, that they did not return on that trail this