come across one of 'em, have you?"

"No," said Bill, with a slight blinking of his eye, as he ostentatiously
lifted his glass to the light.

"And you WON'T," added the Superintendent, leisurely sipping his liquor.
"For the fact is, the gang is about played out. Not from want of a job
now and then, but from the difficulty of disposing of the results of
their work. Since the new instructions to the agents to identify and
trace all dust and bullion offered to them went into force, you see,
they can't get rid of their swag. All the gang are spotted at the
offices, and it costs too much for them to pay a fence or a middleman
of any standing. Why, all that flaky river gold they took from the
Excelsior Company can be identified as easy as if it was stamped with
the company's mark. They can't melt it down themselves; they can't
get others to do it for them; they can't ship it to the Mint or Assay
Offices in Marysville and 'Frisco, for they won't take it without our
certificate and seals; and WE don't take any undeclared freight WITHIN
the lines that we've drawn around their beat, except from people and
agents known. Why, YOU know that well enough, Jim," he said, suddenly
appealing to the Expressman, "don't you?"

Possibly the suddenness of the appeal caused the Expressman to swallow
his liquor the wrong way, for he was overtaken with a fit of
coughing, and stammered hastily as he laid down his glass, "Yes--of
course--certainly."

"No, sir," resumed the Superintendent cheerfully, "they're pretty well
played out. And the best proof of it is that they've lately been robbing
ordinary passengers' trunks. There was a freight wagon 'held up' near