her Howard's, his steps did not lead
him toward Kentucky Gulch. Instead he kept straight on up the street,
past the little line of store buildings and to the courthouse, where he
sought out the sole remaining light in the bleak, black
building,--Sheriff Bardwell's office. That personage was nodding in
his chair, but removed his feet from the desk and turned drowsily as
Fairchild entered.

"Well?" he questioned, "what's up?"

"My partner has disappeared. I want to report to you--and see if I can
get some help."

"Disappeared? Who?"

"Harry Harkins. He 's a big Cornishman, with a large mustache, very
red face, about sixty years old, I should judge--"

"Wait a minute," Bardwell's eyes narrowed. "Ain't he the fellow I
arrested in the Blue Poppy mine the night of the Old Times dance?"

"Yes."

"And you say he 's disappeared?"

"I think you heard me!" Fairchild spoke with some asperity. "I said
that he had disappeared, and I want some help in hunting for him. He
may be injured, for all I know, and if he 's out here in the mountains
anywhere, it's almost sure death for him unless he can get some aid
soon. I--"

But the sheriff's eyes still remained suspiciously narrow.

"When does his trial come up?"

"A week from to-morrow."

"And he 's disappeared." A slow smile came over the other man's lips.
"I don't think it will help much to start any relief expedition for
him. The thing to do is to get a picture and a general description and
send it around to the police in the various parts of the country! That
'll be the best way to find him!"

Fairchild's teeth gritted, but he could not escape the force of the
argument, from the sheriff's standpoint. For a moment there was
silence, then the miner came closer to the desk.

"Sheriff," he said as calmly as possible, "you have a perfect right to
give that sort of view. That's your business--to suspect people.
However, I happen to feel sure that my partner would stand trial, no
matter what the charge, and that he would not seek to evade it in any
way. Some sort of an accident happened at the mine this afternoon--a
cave-in or an explosion that tore out the roof of the tunnel--and I am
sure that my partner is injured, has made his way out of the mine, and
is wandering among the hills. Will you help me to find him?"

The sheriff wheeled about in his chair and studied a moment. Then he
rose.

"Guess I will," he announced. "It can't do any harm to look f