had a camp close by, and
let me warm and dry myself by his fire; gave me some coffee and food
when he saw that I wasn't going to hurt him, but I don't believe he shut
an eye that entire night. He was so anxious to get rid of me in the
morning that he gave me an old hat and coat, and that was the rig I wore
when I returned to Comanche."

"The hotel-keeper gave you the message that we left?" she asked.

"He was surly and ungracious, said he didn't know where you were. I was
of the opinion that you had turned my baggage over to him, and that he
found it convenient to forget all about it."

"We brought it here--it's in my room now; and we told him when we left
where we were going, Mr. Bentley and I."

"Well, what little money I had was in my instrument-case," said he. "So
I was up against it right. I knew there was no use in lodging a
complaint against Shanklin, for I had no proof against him, and never
could convince a jury that I was in my right mind if I should tell my
story in court. So I let that pass."

"It was a miraculous deliverance from death!" Agnes exclaimed, taking
her breath freely again. Tears mounted to her eyes as she measured Dr.
Slavens' rugged frame as if with a new interest in beholding a common
pattern which had withstood so much.

He told her of meeting Mackenzie, and of finding the lost die; of the
raid they had made by means of it on Shanklin's money; of his discovery
of the midnight extra in the pockets of the gambler's coat.

"So there you have it all," said he, smiling in embarrassment as if the
relation of so much about himself seemed inexcusable. "Anyway, all of
the first part of the story. The rest is all on dry land, and not
interesting at all."

"But you hadn't had time to look over the land; you didn't know the good
locations from the worthless," said she. "How did you pick out the claim
you filed on?"

"Well, there's a little more of the story, it seems, after all. There
was a plot between Shanklin and another to file Peterson on a certain
tract and then buy him out, I suppose."

He told her of the telegram signed "Jerry," and of Shanklin's reply.

"So I concluded," he said, "that if the land described by their numbers
was valuable to them it would be valuable to me. That my guess was good,
I had proof when I filed. The chap who was piloting Peterson up to the
window, and who I suspect was the 'Jerry' of the message, wanted to know
where I got the figures. He wasn't a bit nice