my old pipe
he had purchased, together with some tobacco, from one of the Utes,
with whom he worked.

He had not gone down to the crusher-house for his supper; he did not
feel hungry, and was more contented here, in the mouth of the mine,
where he could command a view of all that was going on in the valley.
With his pipe for a companion he was as happy as he could be, deprived
as he was from association with the others of his color, who had
barred him out in the cold.

Once or twice during the day, on coming from within, to get a breath
of pure air, he had caught a glimpse of Anita as she flitted about the
cabin engaged at her household duties, and the yearning expression
that unconsciously stole into his dark eyes, spoke of a passion within
his heart, that, though it might be slumbering, was not extinct--was
there all the same, in all its strength and ardor. Had he been granted
the privilege of meeting her, he might have displaced the barrier that
rose between them; but now, nothing remained for him but to toil away
until Redburn should see fit to send him away, back into the world
from which he came.

Would he want to go, when that time came? Hardly, he thought, as he
sat there and gazed into the quiet vale below him, so beautiful even
in darkness. There was no reason why he should go back again adrift
upon the bustling world.

He had no relatives--no claims that pointed him to go thither; he was
as free and unfettered as the wildest mountain eagle. He had no one to
say where he should and where he should not go; he liked one place
equally as well as another, providing there was plenty of provender
and work within easy range; he had never thought of settling down,
until now, when he had come to the Flower Pocket valley, and caught a
glimpse of Anita--Anita whom he had not seen for years; on whom he had
brought censure, reproach and--

A step among the rocks close at hand startled him from a reverie into
which he had fallen, and caused him to spill the tobacco from his
pipe.

A slight trim figure stood a few yards away, and he perceived that two
extended hands clasped objects, whose glistening surface suggested
that they were "sixes" or "sevens."

"Silence!" came in a clear, authoritative voice. "One word more than I
ask you, and I'll blow your brains out. Now, what's your name?"

"Justin McKenzie's my name. Fearless Frank generally answers me the
purpose of a nom de plume," was the reply.

"Very good," an