me to see Houston,--whom
he supposed crushed and buried within the mine,--presenting Lyle to Mr.
Cameron. He lingered long enough to see her clasped in his arms, then
skulked back into the shadow, retreating down the road, gnashing his
teeth with rage and disappointment. The following day search was made
for him, under instructions from Mr. Cameron and Houston, who
offered a large reward for him, living or dead. His body was found in
an old, abandoned shaft on the mountain side, riddled with bullets.
The vengeance of the miners, desperate from the loss of homes and
employment, had overtaken him first. He was buried hastily and with
little ceremony, his two sons having already taken themselves to parts
unknown, fearful lest the penalty of their father's crimes might be
inflicted upon them, and his fate become theirs also. A day or two
later, Mrs. Maverick, who had been prostrated by the shock of the
explosions and the succeeding events, died from a sudden paralysis,
her feeble mind having first been cheered and soothed by the
assurance from Mr. Cameron of his forgiveness for the small share
which she had taken in the withholding Lyle from her true friends and
home. She was given a decent burial in the miners' little cemetery
at the Y, and the house which for so many years had been called by
their name, knew the Mavericks no more.

Kind hands laid little Bull-dog under the murmuring pines on the
mountain side, near Morgan's last resting place, but in the hearts, of
Houston and his friends, his memory could never grow dim.

The small community of miners suddenly vanished, the deserted
quarters, with their blackened ruins, seeming little like the busy
camp of but a few days before, resounding with their songs and jests.

Only in the house nestling at the foot of the mountain there were no
signs of desertion. It was crowded to overflowing, and within its
walls, during those next succeeding days, what combats were waged,
between hope and fear, joy and despair, life and death!

CHAPTER XLVIII.

Five days had passed, days of raging fever and delirium so violent
that already the powerful frame seemed nearly exhausted; the sufferer
calling almost incessantly for the loved ones of his old home, but
oftenest for his mother. Some faint glimmer of recognition must
occasionally have reached those darkened chambers of the brain, since
when attended by Mr. Cameron, Houston or Lyle, he rested more quietly,
though never call