one took stock
in that which did not concern him. People said Godfrey was right--that
it was a case of self-defense, and Godfrey never said a word, never
denied he killed him, but went back to the cabin, and took possession of
everything, and had it all his own way. He worked like a Chinaman, and
never took any part in miners' meetings, or any thing of the kind, and
people began to fear and shun him. By-and-by most of his old friends had
gone; and he was only known as the Gopher."

Again Baboon paused, and the dog crept closer than before, as if he knew
the name of his master.

Once more the man arose, lifted the candle, contemplated the beads in
the bottle, as before, and returned. He did not sit down, but took up
and pulled back the blankets at the end of the bunk.

"I thought as much," said the stranger to himself. "The gold is hidden
in the straw."

"Look at them," said he; and he threw down a bundle of papers, and held
down the dim candle.

There were hundreds of letters, all written in a fine steel-plate lady's
hand. Some addressed to Godfrey, and some to Wilson. Now and then was
one with a border of black, telling that some one at home no longer
waited the return. "Come home, come home," was at the bottom of them
all. One addressed to Wilson, of a recent date, thanked him with all a
mother's and sister's tenderness for the money he had so constantly sent
them through all the weary years.

"That was it, you see; that was it. As Godfrey, that's the Gopher, is
dead, and can send them no more money, and as you was a-going to the
States, I thought best that you should drop in and tell the two families
gently, somehow, that they both are dead. Say that they died together.
He sent them the last ounce he had the week before he died, and made me
take these letters to keep them away from the Coroner, so that he might
not know his address, and so that they might not know at home that Curly
had died long ago, and died a gambler. Take one of the letters along,
and that will tell you where they are."

Again Old Baboon resumed the tow-string. He looked toward the door, and
when the man had stepped across the sill he put out the light, and the
two stood together.

The old dog knew there was but the one place for his master outside his
cabin at such a time, and, blind leading the blind, thither he led him
through the dark to the saloon.

* * * * *

And whither went the Parson that cold