yes was something like terror of what he held. The thing he carried
was an old-fashioned revolver. It was rusty. But it had a merciless
look about it. He turned it up gingerly. Then he opened the breach,
and loaded all the six chambers. Then he carefully bestowed it in his
coat pocket, where it bulged obtrusively.

Now he moved to the open doorway, and somehow his original furtiveness
had returned to him. Here he paused as the voice of the twins reached
and held him. They were still playing in the sun, banking up the sand
and stones in their futile attempt at castle building. He breathed
hard, as though summoning up all his decision. Then he spoke.

"Say, kiddies," he said firmly. "I'll be right back at supper."

And he moved out without another look in their direction, and walked
off in the direction of Minky's store.

CHAPTER IV

SCIPIO BORROWS A HORSE

Scipio found an almost deserted camp after floundering his way over
the intricate paths amongst the refuse-heaps.

The miners had departed to their claims with a punctuality that
suggested Trades Union principles. Such was their existence. They ate
to live; they lived to work, ever tracking the elusive metal to the
earth's most secret places. The camp claimed them only when their
day's work was done; for the rest, it supported only their most urgent
needs.

Sunny Oak, lounging on a rough bench in the shadiest part of the
veranda facing Minky's store, raised a pair of heavy eyelids, to
behold a dejected figure emerge from amidst the "dumps." The figure
was bearing towards the store in a dusty cloud which his trailing feet
raised at every step. His eyes opened wider, and interested thought
stirred in his somnolent brain. He recognized the figure and wondered.
Scipio should have been out on his claim by this time, like the rest.

The lean long figure of the lounger propped itself upon its elbow.
Curiously enough, lazy as he was, the smallest matter interested him.
Had he suddenly discovered a beetle moving on the veranda he would
have found food for reflection in its doings. Such was his mind. A
smile stole into his indolent eyes, a lazy smile which spoke of
tolerant good-humor. He turned so that his voice might carry in
through the window which was just behind him.

"Say, Bill," he cried, "here's Zip comin' down the trail."

As though his announcement were sufficient to rouse an equal interest
in those inside the store, he returned again to his conte