"Six months," said Jeff, with a sigh.

"It's changed for the worse since your house was shut up. There's a long
stretch of unsettled country infested by bad characters."

Jeff sat silent. "Briggs."

"Sir?"

"The last man but one who preceded you was shot by road agents."*

* Highway robbers.

"Yes, sir."

"We lost sixty thousand dollars up there."

"Yes?"

"Your father was Briggs of Tuolumne?"

"Yes, sir." Jeff's head dropped, but, glancing shyly up, he saw a
pleasant smile on his questioner's face. He was still writing rapidly,
but was apparently enjoying at the same time some pleasant recollection.

"Your father and I lost nearly sixty thousand dollars together one
night, ten years ago, when we were both younger."

"Yes, sir," said Jeff dubiously.