fresh courage came into his heart. This city of the
dead should come back to life if what the stars said was true; and the
long rows of adobes now stripped of windows and doors, would awaken to
the tramp of miners' boots. He would find two treasures and, if he chose
well between them, both the silver and the gold would be his. But
neither wily Bunker Hill nor the palavering Professor should pull him
this way or that; for Mother Trigedgo had given him a book, to consult
on all important occasions. It was Napoleon's Oraculum, or Book of Fate;
and as Denver had glanced at the key--with its thirty-two questions
covering every important event in human life--a thrill of security had
passed over him. With this mysterious Oraculum, the Man of Destiny had
solved the many problems of his life; and in question thirteen, that
sinister number, was a test that would serve Denver well:

"Will the FRIEND I most reckon upon prove faithful or treacherous?"

How many times must that great, aloof man have put some friend's loyalty
to the test; and if the answer was in the negative how often had he
avoided death by foreknowledge of impending treachery! Yet such friends
as he had retained had all proved loyal, his generals had been devoted
to his cause; and with the aid of his Oraculum he had conquered all his
enemies--until at last the Book of Fate had been lost. At the battle of
Leipsic, in the confusion of the retreat, his precious Dream Book had
been left behind. Kings and Emperors had used it since, and seeresses as
well; and now, after the lapse of a hundred years, it was published in
quaint cover and lettering, for the guidance of all and sundry. And Old
Mother Trigedgo, coming all the way from Cornwall, had placed the Book
of Fate in his hands! There was destiny in everything, and this woman
who had saved his life could save it again with her Oraculum.

Denver turned to the Mexican who, with two heavily-packed mules, stood
patiently awaiting his pleasure; and with a brief nod of the head he
strode down the trail while the mules minced along behind him. Past the
old, worked-out mine, past the melted-down walls of abandoned adobe
ruins, he led on to the store and the cool, darkened house which
sheltered the family of Andrew Hill; but even here he did not stop,
though Old Bunk beckoned him in. His life, which had once been as other
people's lives, had been touched by the hand of fate; and gayeties and
good cheer, along with friendship