rber Sam accompanying him
upon that wondrous guitar. What a picture that must have been! Even
upon the mountain-sides of that far-off West human hearts respond
tenderly to the touch of love.

--Wot though time flies?
Turrue love never dies!

That honest voice--oh, could I hear it now! That honest face--oh, could
I see it again! And, oh, that once more I could feel the clasp of that
brave hand and the cordial grace of that dear, noble presence!

It was in the fall of the year; the nights were long, yet this night sped
quickly. Long before daybreak significant sounds in the back room
betokened that Miss Woppit was up and moving around. Through the closed
door and from behind the improvised rampart of wood-box and small trunk
the young lady informed her chivalric protectors that they might go home,
prefacing this permission, however, with a solicitous inquiry as to
whether anything had been heard from Brother Jim and his posse.

Jim Woppit and his men must have had a hard ride of it. They did not
show up in camp until eleven o'clock that day, and a tougher-looking
outfit you never saw. They had scoured the surrounding country with the
utmost diligence, yet no trace whatever had they discovered of the
outlaws; the wretches had disappeared so quickly, so mysteriously, that
it seemed hard to believe that they had indeed existed. The crime, so
boldly and so successfully done, was of course the one theme of talk, of
theory, and of speculation in all that region for the conventional period
of nine days. And then it appeared to be forgotten, or, at least, men
seldom spoke of it, and presently it came to be accepted as the popular
belief that the robbery had been committed by a gang of desperate tramps,
this theory being confirmed by a certain exploit subsequently in the San
Juan country, an exploit wherein three desperate tramps assaulted the
triweekly road-hack, and, making off with their booty, were ultimately
taken and strung up to a convenient tree.

Still, the reward of one thousand dollars offered by the city government
of Red Hoss Mountain for information leading to the arrest of the glen
robbers was not withdrawn, and there were those in the camp who quietly
persevered in the belief that the outrage had been done by parties as yet
undiscovered, if not unsuspected. Mr. Mills, the superintendent of the
Royal Victoria, had many a secret conference with Jim Woppit, and it
finally leaked out that the cold