sight of the shanties,
the nearest one being but a couple of hundred yards away from the
saloon, which appeared to be the leading place in the camp.

But as the store was very near to it, it might be that some of the men
were bound there.

Having satisfied themselves that it was a very nice, little mining camp,
our friends turned to and assisted the Chinamen to get things in shape.

They did not intend to remain there any longer to get a rest than for a
day or two, but they were always interested when they struck a spot
where gold dust was being taken out.

No end of good luck had followed them in their search for gold, and
Arietta, the charming sweetheart of the dashing young deadshot, had the
lead over them all, as far as making discoveries that were profitable to
them were concerned.

But it was nothing more than chance that had brought them to Big
Bonanza, and, as was usually the case, a little excitement had started
immediately upon their arrival.

But none of our friends minded what had happened.

They were so used to meeting "bad men," as many of the miners and
cowboys were proud to style themselves, that there was absolutely
nothing new to it.

Meanwhile the miners were not long in reaching the saloon, and the store
adjacent to it.

Then it was only a few minutes before half a dozen were seen approaching
the spot where the two Chinamen had finished putting up the tents that
belonged to the camping outfit.

"Hello, Young Wild West!" called out a big man, with a short, gray beard
on his face. "How are yer? An' how's everybody with yer?"

"First rate," answered Wild, as he shook hands with the miner, but
failed to recognize him. "How are you?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine! I've struck it rich here in ther wilds of Nevady, my
boy! I'm ther prospector what started ther camp. I named her Big
Bonanza, an' it sartinly has been a big bonanza fur me. Beats minin' up
in Weston, all right."

"Weston, eh?"

Then our hero remembered of having seen the man before.

The short, gray beard had changed his appearance wonderfully.

The miner was John Sedgwick, a former bartender at a hotel in the little
town in the Black Hills that had been named for our hero.

"Sedgwick, I didn't know you," he said, smiling at him. "What in the
world are you doing with that gray beard? It makes you look twenty years
older."

"Well, we ain't got no barber shop here yet, an' I never was much good
at shavin' myself, so I jest let ther b