"Is it the man you thought of?" he asked eagerly.

"I reckon," said Bill briefly.

"But," continued the Expressman, returning to his former skepticism,
"what's to keep them both from levanting together now?"

Bill jerked his hand towards the boot with a grim smile.

"Their baggage."

"Oh!" said the Expressman.

"Yes," continued Bill. "We'll hang on to that gal's little frills and
fixin's until this yer job's settled, and the ceremony's over, jest
as ef we waz her own father. And, what's more, young man," he added,
suddenly turning to the Expressman, "YOU'LL express them trunks of
hers THROUGH TO SACRAMENTO with your kempany's labels, and hand her the
receipts and checks for them, so she CAN GET 'EM THERE. That'll keep HIM
outer temptation and the reach o' the gang, until they get away
among white men and civilization again. When your hoary-headed ole
grandfather, or, to speak plainer, that partikler old whiskey-soaker
known as Yuba Bill, wot sits on this box," he continued, with a
diabolical wink at the Expressman, "waltzes in to pervide for a young
couple jest startin' in life, thar's nothin' mean about his style, you
bet. He fills the bill every time! Speshul Providences take a back seat
when he's around."

When the station hotel and straggling settlement of Sugar Pine, now