"both gone!" exclaimed colonel two, hurrying into the saloon, at noon.

"both gone?" echoed two or three men.

"yes," said the colonel; "and the queerest thing is, they left ev'rything behind—every darned thing! i never did see such a stampede afore—i didn't! nobody's got any idee of whar they be, nor what it's 'bout neither."

"don't be too sartain, colonel!" piped weasel, a self-contained mite of a fellow, who was still at work upon his glass, filled at the last general treat, although every one else had finished so long ago that they were growing thirsty again—"don't be too sartain. them detectives bunked at my shanty last night."

"the deuce they did!" cried the colonel. "good the rest of us didn't know it."

"well," said weasel, moving his glass in graceful circles, to be sure that all the sugar dissolved, "i dunno. it's a respectable business, an' i wanted to have a good look at 'em."

"what's that got to do with jim and tarpaulin?" demanded the colonel, fiercely.

"wait, and i'll tell you," replied weasel, provokingly, taking a leisurely sip at his glass. "jim come down to see 'em—"

"what?" cried the colonel.

"an' told 'em he knew their man, an' would help find him," continued weasel. "they offered him the thousand dollars—"

"oh, lord! oh, lord!" groaned the colonel; "who's a feller to trust in this world! the idee of jim goin' back on a pardner fur a thousand! i wouldn't hev b'lieved he'd a-done it fur a million!"

"an' he told 'em he'd cram it down their throats if they mentioned it again."

"bully! hooray fur jim!" shouted the colonel. "what'll yer take, fellers? fill high! here's to jim! the feller that b'lieves his friend's innercent!"

the colonel looked thoughtfully into his glass, and remarked, as if to his own reflection therein, "ain't many such men here nur nowhars else!" after which he drank the toast himself.

"but that don't explain what tarpaulin went fur," said the colonel, suddenly.

"yes, it does," said the exasperating weasel, shutting his thin lips so tightly that it was hard to see where his mouth was.

"what?" cried the colonel. "'twould take a four-horse corkscrew to get anything out o' you, you dried-up little scoundrel!"

"why!" replied weasel, greatly pleased by the colonel's compliment, "after what you said about hair and beard hidin' a man, one of them fellers cut a card an' held it over the picture, so as to hide hair an' chin. the forehead an' face an' nose an' ears wuz tarpaulin's, an' nobody else's."

"lightning's blazes!" roared the colonel, "ha, ha, ha! why, tarpaulin hisself came into my shanty, an' looked at the pictur', an' talked to them 'bout it! trot out yer glassware, barkeeper—got to drink to a feller that's ez cool ez all that!"

the boys drank with the colonel, but they were too severely astonished to enjoy the liquor particularly. in fact, old bermuda, who had never taken anything but plain rye, drank three fingers of claret that day, and did not know of it until told.

the colonel's mind was unusually excited. it seemed to him there were a number of probabilities upon which to hang bets. he walked outside, that his meditation might be undisturbed, but in an instant he was back, crying:

"lady comin'!"

shirt-sleeves and trowsers-legs were hurriedly rolled down, shirt-collars were buttoned, hats were dusted, and then each man went leisurely out, with the air of having merely happened to leave the saloon—an air which imposed upon no disinterested observer.

coming up the trail beside the creek were a middle-aged gentleman and a young lady, both on horseback.

the gentleman's dress and general style plainly indicated that he was not a miner, nor a storekeeper, nor a barkeeper; while it was equally evident that the lady was neither a washerwoman, a cook, nor a member of either of the very few professions which were open to ladies on the pacific coast in those days.

this much every miner quickly decided for himself; but after so deciding, each miner reached the uttermost extremity of his wits, and devoted himself to staring.

the couple reined up before the saloon, and the gentleman drew something small and black and square from his pocket.

"gentlemen," said he, "we are looking for an old friend of ours, and have traced him to this camp. we scarcely know whether it would be any use to give his name, but here is his picture. can any one remember having seen the person here?"

every one looked toward colonel two, he being the man with the most practical tongue in camp.

the colonel took the picture, and weasel slipped up behind him and looked over his shoulder. the colonel looked at the picture, abruptly handed it back, looked at the young lady, and then gazed vacantly into space, and seemed very uncomfortable.

"been here, but gone," said the colonel, at length.

"where did he go, do you know?" asked the gentleman, while the lady's eyes dropped wearily.

"nobody knows—only been gone a day or two," replied the colonel.

the colonel had a well-developed heart, and, relying on what he considered the correct idea of jim hockson's mission, ventured to say:

"he'll be back in a day or two—left all his things."

suddenly weasel raised his diminutive voice, and said:

"the detec—"

the determined grip of the colonel's hand interrupted the communication which weasel attempted to make, and the colonel hastily remarked:

"ther's a feller gone for him that's sure to fetch him back."

"who—who is it?" asked the young lady, hesitatingly.

"well, ma'am," said the colonel, "as yer father—i s'pose, leastways—said, 'tain't much use to give names in this part of the world, but the name he's goin' by is jim hockson."

the young lady screamed and fell.