iss Douglas, there being no chance to send a letter to
San Francisco from the lonely hut where they were at present living.

Besides carrying out the wishes of his patroness, Ben intended to try
his hand at mining, and had employed the interval of three weeks since
he discovered Mr. Dewey in working the latter's claim, with the success
already referred to.

The time when the two friends are introduced to the reader is at the
close of the day, when, fatigued by their work on the claim, they are
glad to rest and chat. Mr. Bradley has a pipe in his mouth, and
evidently takes considerable comfort in his evening smoke.

"I wish I had a pipe for you, Ben," he said. "You don't know how it
rests me to smoke."

"I'll take your word for it, Jake," returned Ben, smiling.

"Won't you take a whiff? You don't know how soothin' it is."

"I don't need to be soothed, Jake. I'm glad you enjoy it, but I don't
envy you a particle."

"Well, p'r'aps you're right, Ben. Our old doctor used to say smokin'
wasn't good for boys, but I've smoked more or less since I was twelve
years old."

"There's something I'd like better than smoking just now," said Ben.

"What's that?"

"Eating supper."

"Just so. I wonder where that heathen Ki Sing is?"

Ki Sing was cook and general servant to the little party, and performed
his duties in a very satisfactory manner--better than either Ben or
Bradley could have done--and left his white employers freer to work at
the more congenial occupation of searching for gold.

"Ki Sing is unusually late," said Richard Dewey. "I wonder what can have
detained him? I am beginning to feel hungry myself."

"The heathen is usually on time," said Bradley, "though he hasn't got a
watch, any more than I have.--Dick, what time is it?"

"Half-past six," answered Richard Dewey, who, though a miner, had not
been willing to dispense with all the appliances of civilization.

"Maybe Ki Sing has found another place," suggested Ben, jocosely.

"He is faithful; I will vouch for that," said Dewey. "I am more afraid
that he has met with some accident--like mine, for instance."

"You won't catch a Chinaman spraining his ankle," said Bradley; "they're
too spry for that. They'll squeeze through where a white man can't, and
I wouldn't wonder if they could turn themselves inside out if they tried
hard."

"It is possible," suggested Dewey, "that Ki Sing may have met with some
of our own race who have treated him roughly. You