ext stage would take me through to San Francisco. When I get there,
I can soon obtain money from the East."

"Madame," said Buffle, unconsciously taking off his hat, "any lady
that'll make that walk by dark is clear gold all the way down to
bed-rock. Ef yer husband's in California, I'll find him fur yer, in
spite of man or devil--_I_ will, an' I'll be on the trail in half an
hour. An' you'd better stay here till I come back, or send yer word. I
don't want to brag, but thar ain't a man in the Gulch that'll dare
molest anythin' aroun' _my_ shanty, an' as thar's plenty of pervisions
thar--plain, but good--yer can't suffer. The spring is close by, an'
you'll allers find firewood by the door. An' ef yer want help about
anythin', ask the fust man yer see, and say I told yer to."

Mrs. Berryn looked earnestly into his face for a moment, and then
trusted him.

"Mr. Buffle," she said, "he is the best man that ever lived. But we were
both proud, and we quarrelled, and he left me in anger. I accidentally
heard he was in California, through an acquaintance who saw him leave
New York on the California steamer. If you see him, tell him I was
wrong, and that I will die if he does not come back. Tell him--tell
him--that."

"Never mind, mum," said Buffle, leading her hastily toward the shanty,
and talking with unusual rapidity. "I'll bring him back all right ef I
find him; an' find him I will, ef he's on top of the ground."

They entered the cabin, and Buffle was rather astonished at the
appearance of his own home. The men were gone, but on the bare logs,
where Buffle usually reposed, they had spread their coats neatly, and
covered them with a blanket which little Muggy usually wore.

The cards had disappeared, and in their place lay a very small fragment
of looking-glass; the demijohn stood in its accustomed place, but
against it leaned a large chip, on which was scrawled, in charcoal, the
word _Worter_.

"Good," said Buffle, approvingly. "Now, mum, keep up yer heart. I tell
yer I'll fetch him, an' any man at the Gulch ken tell yer thet lyin'
ain't my gait."

Buffle slammed the door, called at two or three other shanties, and gave
orders in a style befitting a feudal lord, and in ten minutes was on
horseback, galloping furiously out on the trail to Green Flat.

The Green Flatites wondered at finding the great man among them, and
treated him with the most painful civility. As he neither hung about the
saloon, "got up" a game,