mail. He saw Curly and his
companions, but paid no heed to them. He was more interested in the
letters awaiting him, for there were two, and from his friend the
editor, at that.

"You've been a long time away," Shorty remarked, as he looked curiously
at the young man.

"Yes, I suppose I have," was the absent-minded reply, for Reynolds was
looking at his letters.

"Strike anything?"

"I believe so. But, say, is Frontier Samson here? Have you seen him
lately?"

"W-why, no," Shorty stammered. He had overheard Curly's remarks, so
this unexpected question somewhat embarrassed him. "He went with you,
didn't he?"

"He certainly did, but I got lost out in the hills, and haven't seen
the old man since. I hope nothing has happened to him."

Not a word of this escaped the men at the table, and when Reynolds had
left the building they stared at one another for a few seconds.

"Did ye hear what he said about the gold?" Curly eagerly asked. "I
believe he's struck it rich, an' most likely he has put Samson out of
the way."

"But he asked about him, though," one of the men replied.

"Oh, that was just a ruse, an' nothing more. He wanted to find out if
we suspect anything. I say, Shorty, bring us something," he ordered.
"This is my treat."

When the liquor had been brought, the men drank and talked in low
voices. What they said Shorty could not hear, although he strained his
ears in an effort to catch the drift of the conversation. After a
while other men entered the room, and these were soon acquainted with
Reynolds' return, the gold he had discovered, and the mysterious
disappearance of Frontier Samson. A few agreed with Curly that it was
strange that the old prospector had not been seen for some time, and
that his partner had returned alone. Where was the discovery made?
they wanted to know.

"Near the Tasan," a man replied. "I've just been to the Recording
Office, and found that three double claims have been entered there in
the names of Jim Weston, Glen Weston, and Thomas Reynolds. But I don't
put any stock in that. Why, I've cruised all over that region, and so
have others. There's not enough gold there to fill the eye-tooth of a
mouse. I've been on too many fool stampedes of late, and I'm sick of
them. What does that chechahco know about gold?"

"But Jim Weston is in with him," Curly reminded. "What d'ye make of
that?"

"H'm, Jim Weston knows more about robbing Indians than he does about