l, and so they entered his cabin,
where he sat alone with a bright light burning.

Some newspapers, brought by the captain, were spread before him on a rough
reading stand rigged up by one of the miners.

He looked pale and tired, as though the effort of perusing them had been
rather too much for him.

Listen as she might, the girl could hear never a sound from her own cabin.
She stood by the blanket door, connecting the two rooms, but not a
breath came to her. She sighed with relief at the certainty that he had
come and gone. She would never see him again.

"Shall I light your lamp?" asked Lyster; and, scarce waiting for a reply,
he drew back the blanket and entered the darkness of the other cabin.

Two of the miners came to the door just then, detailed to look after
Harris for the night. One was the good-natured, talkative Emmons.

"Glad to see you are so much better, miss," he said, with an expansive
smile. "But you scared the wits nearly out of me this morning."

Then they heard the sputter of a match in the next room, and a sharp,
startled cry from Lyster, as the blaze gave a feeble light to the
interior.

He staggered back among the rest, with the dying match in his fingers, and
his face ashen gray.

"Snakes!" half screamed Mrs. Huzzard. "Oh, my! oh, my!"

'Tana, after one look at Lyster, tried to enter the room, but he caught
and held her.

"Don't, dear!--don't go in there! It's awful--awful!"

"What's wrong?" demanded one of the miners, and picked up a lamp from
beside Harris.

"Look! It is Akkomi!" answered Lyster.

At the name 'Tana broke from him and ran into the room, even before the
light reached it.

But she did not take many steps. Her foot struck against something on the
floor, an immovable body and a silent one.

"Akkomi--sure enough," said the miner, as he saw the Indian's blanket.
"Drunk, I suppose--Indian fashion."

But as he held the light closer, he took hold of the girl's arm, and tried
to lead her from the scene.

"You'd better leave this to us, miss," he added, in a grave tone. "The man
ain't drunk. He's been murdered!"

'Tana, white as death itself, shook off his grasp and stood with tightly
clasped hands, unheeding the words of horror around her, scarce hearing
the shriek of Mrs. Huzzard, as that lady, forgetful even of the snakes,
sank to the floor, a very picture of terror.

'Tana saw the roll of money scattered over the couch; the little bag of
free gold drawn from