waging YOUR fight against society, and
fresh--uncommonly fresh, I may say--from your first exploit. And a
very stupid, clumsy, awkward exploit, too, Mr. Riggs, if you will
pardon my freedom. You wanted money, and you had an ugly temper, and
you had lost both to a gambler; so you stopped the coach to rob him,
and had to kill two men to get back your paltry thousand dollars, after
frightening a whole coach-load of passengers, and letting Wells, Fargo,
and Co.'s treasure-box with fifty thousand dollars in it slide. It was
a stupid, a blundering, a CRUEL act, Mr. Riggs, and I think I told you
so at the time. It was a waste of energy and material, and made you,
not a hero, but a stupid outcast! I think I proved this to you, and
showed you how it might have been done."

"Dry up on that," interrupted Riggs impatiently. "You offered to
become my partner, and you did."

"Pardon me. Observe, my impetuous friend, that my contention is that
you--YOU--poisoned our blameless Eden in the hollow; that YOU were our
serpent, and that this Sadie Collinson, over whom you have become so
fastidious, whom you knew as my mistress, was obliged to become our
confederate. You did not object to her when we formed our gang, and
her house became our hiding-place and refuge. You took advantage of
her woman's wit and fine address in disposing of our booty; you availed
yourself, with the rest, of the secrets she gathered as MY mistress,
just as you were willing to profit by the superior address of her
paramour--your humble servant--when your own face was known to the
sheriff, and your old methods pronounced brutal and vulgar. Excuse me,
but I must insist upon THIS, and that you dropped down upon me and
Sadie Collinson exactly as you have dropped down here upon her husband."

"Enough of this!" said Riggs angrily. "I admit the woman is part and
parcel of the gang, and gets her share,--or you get it for her," he
added sneeringly; "but that doesn't permit her to mix herself with my
family affairs."

"Pardon me again," interrupted Chivers softly. "Your memory, my dear
Riggs, is absurdly defective. We knew that you had a young sister in
the mountains, from whom you discreetly wished to conceal your real
position. We respected, and I trust shall always respect, your noble
reticence. But do you remember the night you were taking her to school
at Santa Clara,--two nights before the fire,--when you were recognized
on the road near Skinner's, a