on had carried into the house
for dead, but whose brain was yet alive. He had looked at her with a
strange, wild stare, and Overton himself had turned his eyes toward her in
moody questioning when she came forward to help. He had accepted the help,
but each time she raised her eyes she saw that Dan was looking at her with
a new watchfulness; all his interest in the stricken stranger did not keep
him from that.

"If any one is accountable for this, I guess I'm the man," he confessed,
ruefully. "He told me he was afraid of this, yet I was fool enough to lose
my temper and turn him around rough. It might have struck him, anyway; but
my conscience doesn't let me down easy. He'll be my care till some one
comes along with a stronger claim."

"Maybe there is some one somewhere," said 'Tana. "There might be letters,
if it would be right to look."

"If there are relatives anywhere in the settlements, I guess they'd be
glad enough if I'd look," decided Overton. "There is no way to get
permission from him, though," and he looked in the helpless man's eyes. "I
don't know what you'd say to this if you could speak, stranger," he said;
"but to go through your pockets seems the only way to locate you or your
friends; so I'll have to do it."

It was not easy to do, with those eyes staring at him in that horrible
way. But he tried to avoid the eyes, and thrust his hand into the inner
pocket, drawing out an ordinary notebook, some scraps of newspaper folded
up in it, and two letters addressed to Joe Hammond; one to Little Dalles,
and the other had evidently been delivered by a messenger, for no
destination was marked on it. It was an old letter and the envelope was
worn through all around the edges. Another paper was wrapped around it,
and the writing was of a light feminine character. Overton touched it with
a certain reverence and looked embarrassed.

"I think, Mrs. Huzzard, I will ask you to read this, as it seems a lady's
letter, and if there is any information in it, you can give it to us; if
not, I'll just put it back in his pocket and hope luck will tell us what
the letter doesn't."

But Mrs. Huzzard demurred: "And me that short-sighted that even specs
won't cure it! No, indeed. I'm no one to read important papers. But here's
'Tana, with eyes like a hawk for sighting things. She'll read it fast
enough."

Overton looked undecided, remembering those strange insinuations of the
now helpless man, and feeling that the man himsel