red lips
parted in merriment, displaying his large, pearly teeth, and emitting a
low, gurgling sound, one was reminded of the rippling of water over
pebbles. Mrs. Parkenson declared that "Joe's laugh was more contagious
nor the measles."

"'Most everybody takes to Joe," said the landlord, by way of accounting
for Bowles's statement. "For when he gits off that larf o' hisn, I'll be
blowed ef it don't kinder draw folks towards him. But yer can't take no
liberties with him, once he fixes them gray eyes on yer."

"He's too soft and sneaky for me," returned Bowles, testily. Then
observing the deprecatory glances of the others, he added: "Ef I hadn't
er seen him oncet when the Injins got arter him, the way he blazed away
at the skinflints and then druv his team straight ahead 'thout even so
much as losin' his color, I'd call him an out-an'-out milksop."

Knowing glances were exchanged by some of the men, amongst whom it was
no secret that Dick was decidedly jealous of Mary Jane's preference for
Joe. Dick had reason to believe that if this formidable rival were
removed the girl would treat him better. For, cruel though she was at
times, she accepted his attentions with unconcealed satisfaction when
Joe was out of the way; it aggravated him, therefore, beyond measure to
see her sweetest smiles bestowed upon his rival.

"Guess you ain't feelin' O K," said Mary Jane one evening as she placed
a dish of smoking-hot bacon and eggs in front of Joe. "Wot's up? bad
noos from the States?" she added, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
This was banter, for nobody knew better than she that the young man
never received a communication of any sort through the mail.

Mrs. Parkenson had remarked upon this many a time, and in no
complimentary terms. "It must be a black sheep, and no mistake, that
home folks wouldn't send a letter to in all these years," she had said.

Joe looked into Mary Jane's face, while a pained expression flitted
across his own; this was instantly followed by his peculiar laugh,
though it lacked the genuine ring and sounded forced and jerky. But it
attracted the attention of two strangers who sat at the end of the long
table. They had arrived by one of the stages, and had registered in
Parkenson's big book as "John Carter, M.D., and Edward Fulton,
Minneapolis, Minn." Their business had been to examine a mine in the
interest of an Eastern company, and they were now on their return-trip.
Both seemed young, though