Mark Twain ..............................................................................................................................................1

The first scene is in the country, in Virginia; the time, 1880. There has been a wedding, between a

handsome young man of slender means and a rich young girla case of love at first sight and a precipitate

Jacob Fuller, the bridegroom, is twentysix years old, is of an old but unconsidered family which had by

compulsion emigrated from Sedgemoor, and for King James's purse's profit, so everybody saidsome

maliciously the rest merely because they believed it. The bride is nineteen and beautiful. She is intense,

highstrung, romantic, immeasurably proud of her Cavalier blood, and passionate in her love for her young

husband. For its sake she braved her father's displeasure, endured his reproaches, listened with loyalty

unshaken to his warning predictions and went from his house without his blessing, proud and happy in the

proofs she was thus giving of the quality of the affection which had made its home in her heart.

The morning after the marriage there was a sad surprise for her. Her husband put aside her proffered

"Sit down. I have something to say to you. I loved you. That was before I asked your father to give you

to me. His refusal is not my grievanceI could have endured that. But the things he said of me to youthat

is a different matter. Thereyou needn't speak; I know quite well what they were; I got them from authentic

sources. Among other things he said that my character was written in my face; that I was treacherous, a

dissembler, a coward, and a brute without sense of pity or compassion: the 'Sedgemoor trademark,' he called

itand 'whitesleeve badge.' Any other man in my place would have gone to his house and shot him down

like a dog. I wanted to do it, and was minded to do it, but a better thought came to me: to put him to shame;

to break his heart; to kill him by inches. How to do it? Through my treatment of you, his idol! I would marry

From that moment onward, for three months, the young wife suffered all the humiliations, all the insults,

all the miseries that the diligent and inventive mind of the husband could contrive, save physical injuries

only. Her strong pride stood by her, and she kept the secret of her troubles. Now and then the husband said,

"Why don't you go to your father and tell him?" Then he invented new tortures, applied them, and asked

again. She always answered, "He shall never know by my mouth," and taunted him with his origin; said she

was the lawful slave of a scion of slaves, and must obey, and wouldup to that point, but no further; he

could kill her if he liked, but he could not break her; it was not in the Sedgemoor breed to do it. At the end of

the three months he said, with a dark significance in his manner, "I have tried all things but one"and waited

She obeyedas always, without a word. He led her half a mile from the house, and proceeded to lash

her to a tree by the side of the public road; and succeeded, she screaming and struggling. He gagged her then,

struck her across the face with his cowhide, and set his bloodhounds on her. They tore the clothes off her, and

"You will be foundby the passing public. They will be dropping along about three hours from now,

The farmers released her by and byand spread the news, which was natural. They raised the country

with lynching intentions, but the bird had flown. The young wife shut herself up in her father's house; he shut

himself up with her, and thenceforth would see no one. His pride was broken, and his heart; so he wasted

In 1886 a young woman was living in a modest house near a secluded New England village, with no

company but a little boy about five years old. She did her own work, she discouraged acquaintanceships, and

had none. The butcher, the baker, and the others that served her could tell the villagers nothing about her

further than that her name was Stillman, and that she called the child Archy. Whence she came they had not

been able to find out, but they said she talked like a Southerner. The child had no playmates and no comrade,

and no teacher but the mother. She taught him diligently and intelligently, and was satisfied with the

"There was a child going along out there and asked me if the postman had been by and I said yes, and

she said how long since I saw him and I said I hadn't seen him at all, and she said how did I know he'd been

by, then, and I said because I smelt his track on the sidewalk, and she said I was a dum fool and made a

The young woman turned white, and said to herself, "It's a birth mark! The gift of the bloodhound is in

him." She snatched the boy to her breast and hugged him passionately, saying, "God has appointed the way!"

Her eyes were burning with a fierce light, and her breath came short and quick with excitement. She said to

herself: "The puzzle is solved now; many a time it has been a mystery to me, the impossible things the child

She went up to her room and took from her dressingtable several small articles and put them out of

sight: a nailfile on the floor under the bed; a pair of nailscissors under the bureau; a small ivory

"There! I have left some things which I ought to have brought down." She named them, and said, "Run

During his absence she had stepped to the bookcase, taken several books from the bottom shelf, opened

each, passed her hand over a page, noting its number in her memory, then restored them to their places. Now

"I have been doing something while you have been gone, Archy. Do you think you can find out what it

The boy went to the bookcase and got out the books that had been touched, and opened them at the pages

"I will answer your question now, dear. I have found out that in one way you are quite different from

other people. You can see in the dark, you can smell what other people cannot, you have the talents of a

bloodhound. They are good and valuable things to have, but you must keep the matter a secret. If people

found it out, they would speak of you as an odd child, a strange child, and children would be disagreeable to

you, and give you nicknames. In this world one must be like everybody else if he doesn't want to provoke

scorn or envy or jealousy. It is a great and fine distinction which has been born to you, and I am glad; but you

All the rest of the day the mother's brain was busy with excited thinkings; with plans, projects, schemes,

each and all of them uncanny, grim, and dark. Yet they lit up her face; lit it with a fell light of their own; lit it

with vague fires of hell. She was in a fever of unrest; she could not sit, stand, read, sew; there was no relief

for her but in movement. She tested her boy's gift in twenty ways, and kept saying to herself all the time, with

her mind in the past: "He broke my father's heart, and night and day all these years I have tried, and all in

When night fell, the demon of unrest still possessed her. She went on with her tests; with a candle she

traversed the house from garret to cellar, hiding pins, needles, thimbles, spools, under pillows, under carpets,

in cracks in the walls, under the coal in the bin; then sent the little fellow in the dark to find them; which he

did, and was happy and proud when she praised him and smothered him with caresses.

From this time forward life took on a new complexion for her. She said, "The future is secureI can

wait, and enjoy the waiting." The most of her lost interests revived. She took up music again, and languages,

drawing, painting, and the other longdiscarded delights of her maidenhood. She was happy once more, and

felt again the zest of life. As the years drifted by she watched the development of her boy, and was contented

with it. Not altogether, but nearly that. The soft side of his heart was larger than the other side of it. It was his

only defect, in her eyes. But she considered that his love for her and worship of her made up for it. He was a

good haterthat was well; but it was a question if the materials of his hatreds were of as tough and enduring

The years drifted on. Archy was become a handsome, shapely, athletic youth, courteous, dignified,

companionable, pleasant in his ways, and looking perhaps a trifle older than he was, which was sixteen. One

evening his mother said she had something of grave importance to say to him, adding that he was old enough

to hear it now, and old enough and possessed of character enough and stability enough to carry out a stern

plan which she had been for years contriving and maturing. Then she told him her bitter story, in all its naked

"I understand. We are Southerners; and by our custom and nature there is but one atonement. I will

"Kill him? No! Death is release, emancipation; death is a favor. Do I owe him favors? You must not hurt

"You are all the world to me, and your desire is my law and my pleasure. Tell me what to do and I will

"You will go and find him. I have known his hidingplace for eleven years; it cost me five years and

more of inquiry, and much money, to locate it. He is a quartzminer in Colorado, and welltodo. He lives in

Denver. His name is Jacob Fuller. Thereit is the first time I have spoken it since that unforgettable night.

Think! That name could have been yours if I had not saved you that shame and furnished you a cleaner one.

You will drive him from that place; you will hunt him down and drive him again; and yet again, and again,

and again, persistently, relentlessly, poisoning his life, filling it with mysterious terrors, loading it with

weariness and misery, making him wish for death, and that he had a suicide's courage; you will make of him

another Wandering Jew; he shall know no rest any more, no peace of mind, no placid sleep; you shall shadow

him, cling to him, persecute him, till you break his heart, as he broke my father's and mine."

"I believe it, my child. The preparations are all made; everything is ready. Here is a letter of credit; spend

freely, there is no lack of money. At times you may need disguises. I have provided them; also some other

conveniences." She took from the drawer of the typewritertable several squares of paper. They all bore these

It is believed that a certain man who is wanted in an Eastern state is sojourning here. In

1880, in the night, he tied his young wife to a tree by the public road, cut her across the face

with a cowhide, and made his dogs tear her clothes from her, leaving her naked. He left her

there, and fled the country. A bloodrelative of hers has searched for him for seventeen

years. Address . . . . . . . . . , . . . . . . . . . . , Postoffice. The above reward

will be paid in cash to the person who will furnish the seeker, in a personal interview, the

"When you have found him and acquainted yourself with his scent, you will go in the night and placard

one of these upon the building he occupies, and another one upon the postoffice or in some other prominent

place. It will be the talk of the region. At first you must give him several days in which to force a sale of his

belongings at something approaching their value. We will ruin him by and by, but gradually; we must not

impoverish him at once, for that could bring him to despair and injure his health, possibly kill him."

She took three or four more typewritten forms from the drawerduplicatesand read one:

You have . . . . . . days in which to settle your affairs. You will not be disturbed

during that limit, which will expire at . . . . . . M., on the . . . . . . of . . . . . . . You

must then MOVE ON. If you are still in the place after the named hour, I will placard you on

all the dead walls, detailing your crime once more, and adding the date, also the scene of it,

with all names concerned, including your own. Have no fear of bodily injuryit will in no

circumstances ever be inflicted upon you. You brought misery upon an old man, and ruined

"You will add no signature. He must receive this before he learns of the reward placardbefore he rises

"You will need to use these forms only in the beginningonce may he enough. Afterward, when you

are ready for him to vanish out of a place, see that he gets a copy of this form, which merely says:

I have now been living several days in the same hotel with Jacob Fuller. I have his

scent; I could track him through ten divisions of infantry and find him. I have often been near

him and heard him talk. He owns a good mine, and has a fair income from it; but he is not

rich. He learned mining in a good wayby working at it for wages. He is a cheerful

creature, and his fortythree years sit lightly upon him; he could pass for a younger

mansay thirtysix or thirtyseven. He has never married againpasses himself off for a

widower. He stands well, is liked, is popular, and has many friends. Even I feel a drawing

toward himthe paternal blood in me making its claim. How blind and unreasoning and

arbitrary are some of the laws of naturethe most of them, in fact! My task is become hard

cooled, more than I like to confess to myself, But I will carry it out. Even with the pleasure

And for my help, a sharp resentment rises in me when I reflect that he who committed

that odious crime is the only one who has not suffered by it. The lesson of it has manifestly

reformed his character, and in the change he is happy. He, the guilty party, is absolved from

all suffering; you, the innocent, are borne down with it. But be comfortedhe shall harvest

I placarded Form No. 1 at midnight of April 3; an hour later I slipped Form No. 2 under

his chamber door, notifying him to leave Denver at or before 11.50 the night of the 14th.

Some late bird of a reporter stole one of my placards, then hunted the town over and

found the other one, and stole that. In this manner he accomplished what the profession call

a "scoop"that is, he got a valuable item, and saw to it that no other paper got it. And so

his paperthe principal one in the townhad it in glaring type on the editorial page in

the morning, followed by a Vesuvian opinion of our wretch a column long, which wound up

by adding a thousand dollars to our reward on the paper's account! The journals out here

At breakfast I occupied my usual seatselected because it afforded a view of papa

Fuller's face, and was near enough for me to hear the talk that went on at his table.

Seventyfive or a hundred people were in the room, and all discussing that item, and saying

they hoped the seeker would find that rascal and remove the pollution of his presence from

newspaper in the other; and it gave me more than half a pang to see him. His cheerfulness

was all gone, and he looked old and pinched and ashy. And thenonly think of the things

he had to listen to! Mamma, he heard his own unsuspecting friends describe him with

epithets and characterizations drawn from the very dictionaries and phrasebooks of Satan's

own authorized editions down below. And more than that, he had to agree with the verdicts

and applaud them. His applause tasted bitter in his mouth, though; he could not disguise that

from me; and it was observable that his appetite was gone; he only nibbled; he couldn't eat.

"It is quite likely that that relative is in the room and hearing what this town thinks of

Ah, dear, it was pitiful the way Fuller winced, and glanced around scared! He couldn't

During several days he gave out that he had bought a mine in Mexico, and wanted to

sell out and go down there as soon as he could, and give the property his personal attention.

He played his cards well; said he would take $40,000a quarter in cash, the rest in safe

notes; but that as he greatly needed money on account of his new purchase, he would

diminish his terms for cash in full, He sold out for $30,000. And then, what do you think he

NewEnglander, with a head full of crotchets, and preferred greenbacks to gold or drafts.

People thought it queer, since a draft on New York could produce greenbacks quite

conveniently. There was talk of this odd thing, but only for a day; that is as long as any topic

paidwhich was on the 11thI began to stick to Fuller's track without dropping it for a

moment. That nightno, 12th, for it was a little past midnightI tracked him to his room,

which was four doors from mine in the same hall; then I went back and put on my muddy

daylaborer disguise, darkened my complexion, and sat down in my room in the gloom, with

a gripsack handy, with a change in it, and my door ajar. For I suspected that the bird would

take wing now. In half an hour an old woman passed by, carrying a grip: I caught the

familiar whiff, and followed with my grip, for it was Fuller. He left the hotel by a side

entrance, and at the corner he turned up an unfrequented street and walked three blocks in a

light rain and a heavy darkness, and got into a twohorse hack, which of course was waiting

for him by appointment. I took a seat (uninvited) on the trunk platform behind, and we drove

briskly off. We drove ten miles, and the hack stopped at a waystation and was discharged.

Fuller got out and took a seat on a barrow under the awning, as far as he could get from the

light; I went inside, and watched the ticketoffice. Fuller bought no ticket; I bought none.

Presently the train came along, and he boarded a car; I entered the same car at the other

end, and came down the aisle and took the seat behind him. When he paid the conductor and

named his objective point, I dropped back several seats, while the conductor was changing a

bill, and when he came to me I paid to the same placeabout a hundred miles westward.

From that time for a week on end he led me a dance. He traveled here and there and

yonderalways on a general westward trendbut he boas not a woman after the first day.

He was a laborer, like myself, and wore bushy false whiskers. His outfit was perfect, and he

could do the character without thinking about it, for he had served the trade for wages. His

nearest friend could not have recognized him. At last he located himself here, the obscurest

little mountain camp in Montana; he has a shanty, and goes out prospecting daily; is gone

all day, and avoids society. I am living at a miner's boardinghouse, and it is an awful place:

We have been here four weeks, and in that time I have seen him but once; but every

night I go over his track and post myself. As soon as he engaged a shanty here I went to a

town fifty miles away and telegraphed that Denver hotel to keep my baggage till I should

send for it. I need nothing here but a change of army shirts, and I brought that with me.

The Denver episode has never found its way here, I think. I know the most of the men in

camp, and they have never referred to it, at least in my hearing. Fuller doubtless feels quite

safe in these conditions. He has located a claim, two miles away, in an outoftheway

place in the mountains; it promises very well, and he is working it diligently. Ah, but the

change in him! He never smiles, and he keeps quite to himself, consorting with no onehe

who was so fond of company and so cheery only two months ago. I have seen him passing

along several times recentlydrooping, forlorn, the spring gone from his step, a pathetic

I can trust him to remain here until we disturb him. Since you insist, I will banish him

again, but I do not see how he can be unhappier than he already is. I will go hack to Denver

and treat myself to a little season of comfort, and edible food, and endurable beds, and

bodily decency; then I will fetch my things, and notify poor papa Wilson to move on.

They miss him here. They all hope he is prospering in Mexico, and they do not say it just

with their mouths, but out of their hearts. You know you can always tell. I am loitering here

overlong, I confess it. But if you were in my place you would have charity for me. Yes, I know

what you will say, and you are right: if I were in your place, and carried your scalding

God forgive us, mother, me are hunting the wrong man! I have not slept any all night. I

am now awaiting, at dawn, for the morning trainand how the minutes drag, how they

This Jacob Fuller is a cousin of the guilty one. How stupid we have been not to reflect

that the guilty one would never again wear his own name after that fiendish deed! The

Denver Fuller is four years younger than the other one; he came here a young widower in

'79, aged twentyonea year before you were married; and the documents to prove it are

innumerable. Last night I talked with familiar friends of his who have known him from the

day of his arrival. I said nothing, but a few days from now I will land him in this town again,

with the loss upon his mine made good; and there will be a banquet, and a torchlight

procession, and there will not be any expense on anybody but me. Do you call this "gush"? I

am only a boy, as you well know; it is my privilege. By and by I shall not be a boy any more.

Mother, he is gone! Gone, and left no trace. The scent was cold when I came. Today I

am out of bed for the first time since. I wish I were not a boy; then I could stand shocks

better. They all think he went west. I start tonight, in a wagontwo or three hours of that,

then I get a train. I don't know where I'm going, but I must go; to try to keep still would be

Of course he has effaced himself with a new name and a disguise. This means that I may

have to search the whole globe to find him. Indeed it is what I expect. Do you see, mother? It

Think of the difficulties! And there would be none if I only could advertise for him. But if

there is any way to do it that would not frighten him, I have not been able to think it out, and

I have tried till my brains are addled. "If the gentleman who lately bought a mine in Mexico

and sold one in Denver will send his address to" (to whom, mother!), "it will be explained to

him that it was all a mistake; his forgiveness will be asked, and full reparation made for a

loss which he sustained in a certain matter." Do you see? He would think it a trap. Well, any

one would. If I should say, "It is now known that he was not the man wanted, but another

that answer? But the Denver people would wake up then and say "Oho!" and they would

remember about the suspicious greenbacks, and say, "Why did he run away if he wasn't the

right man?it is too thin." If I failed to find him he would be ruined therethere where

I have one clue, and only one. I know his handwriting. If he puts his new false name

upon a hotel register and does not disguise it too much, it will be valuable to me if I ever run

You already know how well I have searched the states from Colorado to the Pacific, and

how nearly I came to getting him once. Well, I have had another close miss. It was here,

yesterday. I struck his trail, hot, on the street, and followed it on a run to a cheap hotel. That

was a costly mistake; a dog would have gone the other way. But I am only part dog, and can

get very humanly stupid when excited. He had been stopping in that house ten days; I almost

know, now, that he stops long nowhere, the past six or eight months, but is restless and has to

keep moving. I understand that feeling! and I know what it is to feel it. He still uses the name

he had registered when I came so near catching him nine months ago"James Walker";

doubtless the same he adopted when he fled from Silver Gulch. An unpretending man, and

has small taste for fancy names. I recognized the hand easily, through its slight disguise. A

They said he was just gone, on a journey; left no address; didn't say where he was

going; looked frightened when asked to leave his address; had no baggage but a cheap

valise; carried it off on foota "stingy old person, and not much loss to the house." "Old!" I

suppose he is, now I hardly heard; I was there but a moment. I rushed along his trail, and it

led me to a wharf. Mother, the smoke of the steamer he had taken was just fading out on the

horizon! I should have saved half on hour if I had gone in the right direction at first. I could

have taken a fast tug, and should have stood a chance of catching that vessel. She is bound

You have a right to complain. "A letter a year" is a paucity; I freely acknowledge it; but

how can one write when there is nothing to write about but failures? No one can keep it up;

Well, then, after that I followed him to India; almost saw him in Bombay; traced him all

swelteralways approximately on his track, sometimes close upon him, get never catching

him. And down to Ceylon, and then toNewer mind; by and by I will write it all out.

I chased him home to California, and down to Mexico, and back again to California.

Since then I have been hunting him about the state from the first of last January down to a

month ago. I feel almost sure he is not far from Hope Ca�on; I traced him to a point thirty

miles from here, but there I lost the trail; some one gave him a lift in a wagon, I suppose.

I am taking a rest, nowmodified by searchings for the lost trail. I was tired to death,

mother, and lowspirited, and sometimes coming uncomfortably near to losing hope; but the

miners in this little camp are good fellows, and I am used to their sort this long time back;

and their breezy ways freshen a person up and make him forget his troubles. I have been

here a month. I am cabining with a young fellow named "Sammy" Hillyer, about twentyfive,

weekpart of which is like me. He is a timid body, and in the matter of intellectwell, he

cannot be depended upon to set a river on fire; but no matter, he is well liked; he is good and

fine, and it is meat and bread and rest and luxury to sit and talk with him and have a

comradeship again. I wish "James Walker" could have it. He had friends; he liked company.

That brings up that picture of him, the time that I saw him last. The pathos of it! It comes

before me often and often. At that very time, poor thing, I was girding up my conscience to

Hillyer's heart is better than mine, better than anybody's in the community, I suppose,

for he is the one friend of the black sheep of the campFlint Bucknerand the only man

Flint ever talks with or allows to talk with him. He says he knows Flint's history, and that it is

trouble that has made him what he is, and so one ought to be as charitable toward him as

one can. Now none but a pretty large heart could find space to accommodate a lodger like

Flint Buckner, from all I hear about him outside. I think that this one detail will give you a

better idea of Sammy's character than any laboredout description I could furnish you of

him. In one of our talks he said something about like this: "Flint is a kinsman of mine, and he

pours out all his troubles to meempties his breast from time to time, or I reckon it would

burst. There couldn't be any unhappier man, Archy Stillman; his life had been made up of

misery of mindhe isn't near as old as he looks. He has lost the feel of reposefulness and

peaceoh, years and years ago! He doesn't know what good luck isnever has had any;

It was a crisp and spicy morning in early October. The lilacs and laburnums, lit with the gloryfires of

autumn, hung burning and flashing in the upper air, a fairy bridge provided by kind Nature for the wingless

wild things that have their homes in the treetops and would visit together; the larch and the pomegranate

flung their purple and yellow flames in brilliant broad splashes along the slanting sweep of the woodland; the

sensuous fragrance of innumerable deciduous flowers rose upon the swooning atmosphere; far in he empty

sky a solitary esophagus1 slept upon motionless wing; everywhere brooded stillness, serenity, and the peace

One of your citizens has asked me a question about the "esophagus," and I wish to answer him through

you. This in the hope that the answer will get around, and save me some penmanship, for I have already

replied to the same question more than several times, and am not getting as much holiday as I ought to have.

I published a short story lately, and it was in that that I put the esophagus. I will say privately that I

expected it to bother some peoplein fact, that was the intentionbut the harvest has been larger than I

was calculating upon. The esophagus has gathered in the guilty and the innocent alike, whereas I was only

fishing for the innocentthe innocent and confiding. I knew a few of these would write and ask me; that

would give me but little trouble; but, I was not expecting that the wise and the learned would call upon me for

succor. However, that has happened, and it is time for me to speak up and stop the inquiries if I can, for

letterwriting is not restful to me, and I am not having so much fun out of this thing as I counted on. That you

may understand the situation, I will insert a couple of sample inquiries. The first is from a public instructor in

My dear Sir,I have just been reading the first part of your latest story, entitled "A Doublebarreled

Detective Story," and am very much delighted with it. In Part IV, page 264, Harper's Magazine for January,

occurs this passage: "far in the empty sky a solitary 'esophagus' slept upon motionless wing; everywhere

brooded stillness, serenity, and the peace of God." Now, there is one word I do not understand, namely,

"esophagus." My only work of reference is the Standard Dictionary, but that fails to explain the meaning. If

you can spare the time, I would be glad to have the meaning cleared up, as I consider the passage a very

touching and beautiful one. It may seem foolish to you, but consider my lack of means away out in the

Do you notice? Nothing in the paragraph disturbed him but that one word. It shows that the paragraph

was most ably constructed for the deception it was intended to put upon the reader. It was my intention that it

should read plausibly, and it is now plain that it does; it was my intention that it should be emotional and

touching, and you see, yourself, that it fetched this public instructor. Alas, If I had but left that one

treacherous word out, I should have scored! scored everywhere; and the paragraph would have slidden

The other sample inquiry is from a professor in a New England university. It contains one naughty word

(which I cannot bear to suppress), but he is not in the theological department, so it is no harm:

Dear Mr. Clemens: "Far in the empty sky a "solitary esophagus slept upon motionless wing."

It is not often I get a chance to read much periodical literature, but I have just gone through at this

belated period, with much gratification and edification, your "Doublebarreled Detective Story."

But what in hell is an esophagus? I keep one myself, but it never sleeps in the air or anywhere else. My

profession is to deal with words, and esophagus interested me the moment I lighted upon it. But as a

companion of my youth used to say, "I'll be eternally, coeternally cussed" if l can make it out. Is it a joke, or

Between you and me, I was almost ashamed of having fooled that man, but for pride's sake I was not

going to say so. I wrote and told him it was a jokeand that is what I am now saying to my Springfield

inquirer. And I told him to carefully read the whole paragraph, and he would find not a vestige of sense in

I have confessed. I am sorrypartially. I will not do so any morefor the present. Don't ask me any

The "Doublebarreled Detective Story," which appeared in Harper's Magazine for January and

February last, is the most elaborate of burlesques on detective fiction, with striking melodramatic passages

in which it is difficult to detect the deception, so ably is it done. But the illusion ought not to endure even the

first incident in the February number. As for the paragraph which has so admirably illustrated the skill of

"It was a crisp and spicy morning in early October. The lilacs and laburnums, lit with the gloryfires of

autumn, hung burning and flashing in the upper air, a fairy bridge provided by kind nature for the wingless

wild things that have their home in the treetops and would visit together; the larch and the pomegranate

flung their purple and yellow flames in brilliant broad splashes along the slanting sweep of the woodland;

the sensuous fragrance of innumerable deciduous flowers rose upon the swooning atmosphere; far in the

empty sky a solitary esophagus slept upon motionless wings; everywhere brooded stillness, serenity, and the

The success of Mark Twain's joke recalls to mind his story of the petrified man in the cavern, whom he

described most punctiliously, first giving a picture of the scene, its impressive solitude, and all that; then

going on to describe the majesty of the figure, casually mentioning that the thumb of his right hand rested

against the side of his nose; then after further description observing that the fingers of the right hand were

extended in a radiating fashion; and, recurring to the dignified attitude and position of the man, incidentally

remarked that the thumb of the left hand was in contact with the little finger of the rightand so on. But was

it so ingeniously written that Mark, relating the history years later in an article which appeared in that

excellent magazine of the past, the Galaxy, declared that no one ever found out the joke, and, if we remember

aright, that that astonishing old mockery was actually looked for in the region where he, as a Nevada

newspaper editor, had located it. It is certain that Mark Twain's jumping frog has a good many more "pints"

October is the time1900; Hope Ca�on is the place, a silvermining camp away down in the Esmeralda

region. It is a secluded spot, high and remote; recent as to discovery; thought by its occupants to be rich in

metala year or two's prospecting will decide that matter one way or the other. For inhabitants, the camp

has about two hundred miners, one white woman and child, several Chinese washermen, five squaws, and a

dozen vagrant buck Indians in rabbitskin robes, battered plug hats, and tincan necklaces. There are no

mills as yet; no church, no newspaper. The camp has existed but two years; it has made no big strike; the

On both sides of the ca�on the mountains rise walllike, three thousand feet, and the long spiral of

straggling huts down in its narrow bottom gets a kiss from the sun only once a day, when he sails over at

noon. The village is a couple of miles long; the cabins stand well apart from each other. The tavern is the only

"frame" housethe only house, one might say. It occupies a central position, and is the evening resort of the

population. They drink there, and play sevenup and dominoes; also billiards, for there is a table, crossed all

over with torn places repaired with courtplaster; there are some cues, but no leathers; some chipped balls

which clatter when they run, and do not slow up gradually, but stop suddenly and sit down; there is a part of a

cube of chalk, with a projecting jag of flint in it; and the man who can score six on a single break can set up

Flint Buckner's cabin was the last one of the village, going south; his silverclaim was at the other end of

the village, northward, and a little beyond the last hut in that direction. He was a sour creature, unsociable,

and had no companionships. People who had tried to get acquainted with him had regretted it and dropped

him. His history was not known. Some believed that Sammy Hillyer knew it; others said no. If asked, Hillyer

said no, he was not acquainted with it. Flint had a meek English youth of sixteen or seventeen with him,

whom he treated roughly, both in public and in private; and of course this lad was applied to for information,

but with no success. Fetlock Jonesname of the youthsaid that Flint picked him up on a prospecting

tramp, and as he had neither home nor friends in America, he had found it wise to stay and take Buckner's

hard usage for the sake of the salary, which was bacon and beans. Further than this he could offer no

Fetlock had been in this slavery for a month now, and under his meek exterior he was slowly consuming

to a cinder with the insults and humiliations which his master had put upon him. For the meek suffer bitterly

from these hurts; more bitterly, perhaps, than do the manlier sort, who can burst out and get relief with words

or blows when the limit of endurance has been reached. Goodhearted people wanted to help Fetlock out of

his trouble, and tried to get him to leave Buckner; but the boy showed fright at the thought, and said he

"You leave the damned hunks and come with me; don't you be afraid. I'll take care of him."

The boy thanked him with tears in his eyes, but shuddered and said he "dasn't risk it"; he said Flint would

catch him alone, some time, in the night, and then"Oh, it makes me sick, Mr. Riley, to think of it."

Others said, "Run away from him; we'll stake you; skip out for the coast some night." But all these

suggestions failed; he said Flint would hunt him down and fetch him back, just for meanness.

The people could not understand this. The boy's miseries went steadily on, week after week. It is quite

likely that the people would have understood if they had known how he was employing his spare time. He

slept in an outcabin near Flint's; and there, nights, he nursed his bruises and his humiliations, and studied

and studied over a single problemhow he could murder Flint Buckner and not be found out. It was the only

joy he had in life; these hours were the only ones in the twentyfour which he looked forward to with

He thought of poison. Nothat would not serve; the inquest would reveal where it was procured and

who had procured it. He thought of a shot in the back in a lonely place when Flint would be homeward bound

at midnighthis unvarying hour for the trip. Nosomebody might be near, and catch him. He thought of

stabbing him in his sleep. Nohe might strike an inefficient blow, and Flint would seize him. He examined a

hundred different waysnone of them would answer; for in even the very obscurest and secretest of them

there was always the fatal defect of a risk, a chance, a possibility that he might be found out. He would have

But he was patient, endlessly patient. There was no hurry, he said to himself. He would never leave Flint

till he left him a corpse; there was no hurryhe would find the way. It was somewhere, and he would endure

shame and pain and misery until he found it. Yes, somewhere there was a way which would leave not a trace,

not even the faintest clue to the murdererthere was no hurryhe would find that way, and thenoh, then,

it would just be good to be alive! Meantime he would diligently keep up his reputation for meekness; and

also, as always theretofore, he would allow no one to hear him say a resentful or offensive thing about his

Two days before the beforementioned October morning Flint had bought some things, and he and

Fetlock had brought them home to Flint's cabin: a fresh box of candles, which they put in the corner; a tin can

of blastingpowder, which they placed upon the candlebox; a keg of blastingpowder, which they placed

under Flint's bunk; a huge coil of fuse, which they hung on a peg. Fetlock reasoned that Flint's mining

operations had outgrown the pick, and that blasting was about to begin now. He had seen blasting done, and

he had a notion of the process, but he had never helped in it. His conjecture was rightblastingtime had

come. In the morning the pair carried fuse, drills, and the powdercan to the shaft; it was now eight feet deep,

and to get into it and out of it a short ladder was used. They descended, and by command Fetlock held the

drillwithout any instructions as to the right way to hold itand Flint proceeded to strike. The sledge came

"You mangy son of a nigger, is that any way to hold a drill? Pick it up! Stand it up! Therehold fast.

"Get up! You can't lie sniveling there. Now, then, stick in the fuse first. Now put in the powder. Hold on,

hold on! Are you going to fill the hole all up? Of all the sapheaded milksops IPut in some dirt! Put in

some gravel! Tamp it down! Hold on, hold on! Oh, great Scott! get out of the way!" He snatched the iron and

tamped the charge himself, meantime cursing and blaspheming like a fiend. Then he fired the fuse, climbed

out of the shaft, and ran fifty yards away, Fetlock following. They stood waiting a few minutes, then a great

volume of smoke and rocks burst high into the air with a thunderous explosion; after a little there was a

They went down the shaft, cleaned it out, drilled another hole, and put in another charge.

"Look here! How much fuse are you proposing to waste? Don't you know how to time a fuse?"

In his rage he snatched the ladder out of the shaft and ran. The boy was aghast.

"Oh, my God! Help. Help! Oh, save me!" he implored. "Oh, what can I do! What can I do!"

He backed against the wall as tightly as he could; the sputtering fuse frightened the voice out of him; his

breath stood still; he stood gazing and impotent; in two seconds, three seconds, four he would be flying

toward the sky torn to fragments. Then he had an inspiration. He sprang at the fuse; severed the inch of it that

He sank down limp and half lifeless with fright, his strength gone; but he muttered with a deep joy:

After a matter of five minutes Buckner stole to the shaft, looking worried and uneasy, and peered down

into it. He took in the situation; he saw what had happened. He lowered the ladder, and the boy dragged

himself weakly up it. He was very white. His appearance added something to Buckner's uncomfortable state,

and he said, with a show of regret and sympathy which sat upon him awkwardly from lack of practice:

"It was an accident, you know. Don't say anything about it to anybody; I was excited, and didn't notice

what I was doing. You're not looking well; you've worked enough for today; go down to my cabin and eat

what you want, and rest. It's just an accident, you know, on account of my being excited."

"It scared me," said the lad, as he started away; "but I learnt something, so I don't mind it."

"Damned easy to please!" muttered Buckner, following him with his eye. I wonder if he'll tell? Mightn't

The boy took no advantage of his holiday in the matter of resting; he employed it in work, eager and

feverish and happy work. A thick growth of chaparral extended down the mountainside clear to Flint's cabin;

the most of Fetlock's labor was done in the dark intricacies of that stubborn growth; the rest of it was done in

"If he's got any suspicions that I'm going to tell on him, he won't keep them long, tomorrow. He will see

that I am the same milksop as I always wasall day and the next. And the day after tomorrow night there

'll be an end of him; nobody will ever guess who finished him up nor how it was done. He dropped me the

It is now almost midnight, and in five minutes the new morning will begin. The scene is in the tavern

billiardroom. Rough men in rough clothing, slouchhats, breeches stuffed into boottops, some with vests,

none with coats, are grouped about the boileriron stove, which has ruddy cheeks and is distributing a

grateful warmth; the billiardballs are clacking; there is no other soundthat is, within; the wind is fitfully

moaning without. The men look bored; also expectant. A hulking broadshouldered miner, of middle age,

with grizzled whiskers, and an unfriendly eye set in an unsociable face, rises, slips a coil of fuse upon his

arm, gathers up some other personal properties, and departs without word or greeting to anybody. It is Flint

"The regularest man that ever was," said Jake Parker, the blacksmith: "you can tell when it's twelve just

"He's just a blight on this society," said WellsFargo's man, Ferguson. "If I was running this shop I'd

make him say something, some time or other, or vamos the ranch." This with a suggestive glance at the

barkeeper, who did not choose to see it, since the man under discussion was a good customer, and went home

"Say," said Ham Sandwich, miner, "does any of you boys ever recollect of him asking you to take a

This sarcastic rejoinder came in a spontaneous general outburst in one form of words or another from the

"He's the 15puzzle, that cuss. And his boy's another one. I can't make them out."

"Nor anybody else," said Ham Sandwich; "and if they are 15puzzles how are you going to rank up that

other one? When it comes to A 1 rightdown solid mysteriousness, he lays over both of them. Easydon't

Everybody said it. Every man but one. He was the newcomerPeterson. He ordered the drinks all

"Is he a mystery? Is Archy Stillman a mystery?" said WellsFargo's man, Ferguson. "Why, the fourth

Peterson wanted to hear all about him; everybody wanted to tell him; everybody began. But Billy

Stevens, the barkeeper, called the house to order, and said one at a time was best. He distributed the drinks,

"Well, he's a boy. And that is just about all we know about him. You can pump him till you are tired; it

ain't any use; you won't get anything. At least about his intentions, or line of business, or where he's from,

and such things as that. And as for getting at the nature and getup of his main big chief mystery, why, he'll

just change the subject, that's all. You can guess till you're black in the faceit's your privilegebut

"Sight, maybe. Hearing, maybe. Instinct, maybe. Magic, maybe. Take your choicegrownups,

twentyfive; children and servants, half price. Now I'll tell you what he can do. You can start here, and just

disappear; you can go and hide wherever you want to, I don't care where it is, nor how farand he'll go

"I just do, though. Weather's nothing to himelemental conditions is nothing to himhe don't even

"Well, sir, you can leave him here, chatting with the boys, and you can slip out and go to any cabin in

this camp and open a bookyes, sir, a dozen of themand take the page in your memory, and he'll start out

and go straight to that cabin and open every one of them books at the right page, and call it off, and never

"More than one has thought it. Now I'll tell you a perfectly wonderful thing that he done. The other night

There was a sudden great murmur of sounds outside, the door flew open, and an excited crowd burst in,

"My child! my child! she's lost and gone! For the love of God help me to find Archy Stillman; we've

"Sit down, sit down, Mrs. Hogan, and don't worry. He asked for a bed three hours ago, tuckered out

tramping the trails the way he's always doing, and went upstairs. Ham Sandwich, run up and roust him out;

"Bless you, dear, there ain't any; I wish there was. I put her to sleep at seven in the evening, and when I

went in there an hour ago to go to bed myself, she was gone. I rushed for your cabin, dear, and you wasn't

there, and I've hunted for you ever since, at every cabin down the gulch, and now I've come up again, and I'm

that distracted and scared and heartbroke; but, thanks to God, I've found you at last, dear heart, and you'll find

The whole company streamed out to join the hunt. All the southern half of the village was up, a hundred

men strong, and waiting outside, a vague dark mass sprinkled with twinkling lanterns. The mass fell into

columns by threes and fours to accommodate itself to the narrow road, and strode briskly along southward in

"There's the bunk," said Mrs. Hogan; "there's where she was; it's where I laid her at seven o'clock; but

"Hand me a lantern," said Archy. He set it on the hard earth floor and knelt by it, pretending to examine

the ground closely. "Here's her track," he said, touching the ground here and there and yonder with his finger.

Several of the company dropped upon their knees and did their best to see. One or two thought they

discerned something like a track; the others shook their heads and confessed that the smooth hard surface had

no marks upon it which their eyes were sharp enough to discover. One said, "Maybe a child's foot could make

Young Stillman stepped outside, held the light to the ground, turned leftward, and moved three steps,

closely examining; then said, "I've got the directioncome along; take the lantern, somebody."

He strode off swiftly southward, the files following, swaying and bending in and out with the deep

curves of the gorge. Thus a mile, and the mouth of the gorge was reached; before them stretched the

sagebrush plain, dim, vast, and vague. Stillman called a halt, saying, "We mustn't start wrong, now; we must

He took a lantern and examined the ground for a matter of twenty yards; then said, "Come on; it's all

right," and gave up the lantern. In and out among the sagebushes he marched, a quarter of a mile, bearing

gradually to the right; then took a new direction and made another great semicircle; then changed again and

"She gave it up, here, poor little chap. Hold the lantern. You can see where she sat."

But this was in a slick alkali flat which was surfaced like steel, and no person in the party was quite

hardy enough to claim an eyesight that could detect the track of a cushion on a veneer like that. The bereaved

"But where is she, then?" some one said. "She didn't stay here. We can see that much, anyway."

Stillman moved about in a circle around the place, with the lantern, pretending to hunt for tracks.

"Well!" he said presently, in an annoyed tone, "I don't understand it." He examined again. "No use. She

was herethat's certain; she never walked away from hereand that's certain. It's a puzzle; I can't make it

"Oh, my God! oh, blessed Virgin! some flying beast has got her. I'll never see her again!"

"God bless you for the words, Archy Stillman!" and she seized his hand and kissed it fervently.

"Wonderful performance to find this place, wasn't it? Hardly worth while to come so far, though; any

"Do you mean to insinuate that the child hasn't been here? I tell you the child has been here! Now if you

"All right!" sang out Stillman. "Come, everybody, and look at this! It was right under our noses all the

There was a general plunge for the ground at the place where the child was alleged to have rested, and

many eyes tried hard and hopefully to see the thing that Archy's finger was resting upon. There was a pause,

then a severalbarreled sigh of disappointment. Pat Riley and Ham Sandwich said, in the one breath:

"Nothing? Do you call that nothing?" and he swiftly traced upon the ground a form with his finger.

"Theredon't you recognize it now? It's Injun Billy's track. He's got the child."

He started on a run, racing in and out among the sagebushes a matter of three hundred yards, and

disappeared over a sandwave; the others struggled after him, caught him up, and found him waiting. Ten

steps away was a little wickiup, a dim and formless shelter of rags and old horseblankets, a dull light

All followed the sprint she made for the wickiup, and saw, with her, the picture its interior afforded.

Injun Billy was sitting on the ground; the child was asleep beside him. The mother hugged it with a wild

embrace, which included Archy Stillman, the grateful tears running down her face, and in a choked and

broken voice she poured out a golden stream of that wealth of worshiping endearments which has its home in

"I find her bymeby it is ten o'clock," Billy explained. "She 'sleep out yonder, ve'y tiredface wet, been

In her limitless gratitude the happy mother waived rank and hugged him too, calling him "the angel of

God in disguise." And he probably was in disguise if he was that kind of an official. He was dressed for the

At half past one in the morning the procession burst into the village singing, "When Johnny Comes

Marching Home," waving its lanterns and swallowing the drinks that were brought out all along its course. It

The next afternoon the village was electrified with an immense sensation. A grave and dignified

foreigner of distinguished bearing and appearance had arrived at the tavern, and entered this formidable name

The news buzzed from cabin to cabin, from claim to claim; tools were dropped, and the town swarmed

toward the center of interest. A man passing out at the northern end of the village shouted it to Pat Riley,

whose claim was the next one to Flint Buckner's. At that time Fetlock Jones seemed to turn sick. He muttered

"Uncle Sherlock! The mean luck of it!that he should come just when..." He dropped into a reverie, and

presently said to himself: "But what's the use of being afraid of him? Anybody that knows him the way I do

knows he can't detect a crime except where he plans it all out beforehand and arranges the clues and hires

some fellow to commit it according to instructions.... Now there ain't going to be any clues this timeso,

what show has he got? None at all. No, sir; everything's ready. If I was to risk putting it off...No, I won't

run any risk like that. Flint Buckner goes out of this world tonight, for sure." Then another trouble presented

itself. "Uncle Sherlock 'll be wanting to talk home matters with me this evening, and how am I going to get

rid of him? for I've got to be at my cabin a minute or two about eight o'clock." This was an awkward matter,

and cost him much thought. But he found a way to beat the difficulty. "We'll go for a walk, and I'll leave him

in the road a minute, so that he won't see what it is I do: the best way to throw a detective off the track,

anyway, is to have him along when you are preparing the thing. Yes, that's the safestI'll take him with me."

Meantime the road in front of the tavern was blocked with villagers waiting and hoping for a glimpse of

the great man. But he kept his room, and did not appear. None but Ferguson, Jake Parker the blacksmith, and

Ham Sandwich had any luck. These enthusiastic admirers of the great scientific detective hired the tavern's

detainedbaggage lockup, which looked into the detective's room across a little alleyway ten or twelve feet

wide, ambushed themselves in it, and cut some peepholes in the windowblind. Mr. Holmes's blinds were

down; but by and by he raised them. It gave the spies a hairlifting but pleasurable thrill to find themselves

face to face with the Extraordinary Man who had filled the world with the fame of his more than human

ingenuities. There he satnot a myth, not a shadow, but real, alive, compact of substance, and almost within

"Look at that head!" said Ferguson, in an awed voice. "By gracious! that's a head!"

"You bet!" said the blacksmith, with deep reverence. "Look at his nose! look at his eyes! Intellect? Just a

"And that paleness," said Ham Sandwich. "Comes from thoughtthat's what it comes from. Hell!

"No more we don't," said Ferguson. "What we take for thinking is just blubberandslush,"

"Right you are, WellsFargo. And look at that frownthat's deep thinkingaway down, down, forty

"Well, he is, and don't you forget it. Saylook at that awful gravitylook at that pallid

"No, sir, not for dollars! And it's his'n by hereditary rights, too; he's been dead four times a'ready, and

there's history for it. Three times natural, once by accident. I've heard say he smells damp and cold, like a

" 'Sh! Watch him! Therehe's got his thumb on the bump on the near corner of his forehead, and his

forefinger on the off one. His thinkworks is just agrinding now, you bet your other shirt."

"That's so. And now he's gazing up toward heaven and stroking his mustache slow, and"

"Now he has rose up standing, and is putting his clues together on his left fingers with his right finger.

"See him smile!like a tigerand tally off the other fingers like nothing! He's got it, boys; he's got it

Mr. Holmes drew a table to the window, sat down with his back to the spies, and proceeded to write. The

spies withdrew their eyes from the peepholes, lit their pipes, and settled themselves for a comfortable smoke

"Boys, it's no use talking, he's a wonder! He's got the signs of it all over him."

"You hain't ever said a truer word than that, WellsFargo," said Jake Parker. "Say, wouldn't it 'a' been

"Oh, by George, but wouldn't it!" said Ferguson. "Then we'd have seen scientific work. Intellectjust

pure intellectaway up on the upper levels, dontchuknow. Archy is all right, and it don't become anybody to

belittle him, I can tell you. But his gift is only just eyesight, sharp as an owl's, as near as I can make it out just

a grand natural animal talent, no more, no less, and prime as far as it goes, but no intellect in it, and for

awfulness and marvelousness no more to be compared to what this man does thanthanWhy, let me tell

you what he'd have done. He'd have stepped over to Hogan's and glancedjust glanced, that's allat the

premises, and that's enough. See everything? Yes, sir, to the last little detail; and he'll know more about that

place than the Hogans would know in seven years. Next, he would sit down on the bunk, just as ca'm, and say

to Mrs. HoganSay, Ham, consider that you are Mrs. Hogan. I'll ask the questions; you answer them."

" 'Madam, if you pleaseattentiondo not let your mind wander. Now, thensex of the child?'

" 'Umyoung, weaktwo miles. Weariness will overtake it then. It will sink down and sleep. We shall

" 'Very good, very good, very good, indeed.' You see, boys, he knows a clue when he sees it, when it

" 'Umkip. This complicates the matter. However, let it gowe shall manage. Religion?'

" 'Very good. Snip me a bit from the bed blanket, please. Ah, thanks. Part woolforeign make. Very

well. A snip from some garment of the child's, please. Thanks. Cotton. Shows wear. An excellent clue,

excellent. Pass me a pallet of the floor dirt, if you'll be so kind. Thanks, many thanks. Ah, admirable,

admirable! Now we know where we are, I think.' You see, boys, he's got all the clues he wants now; he don't

need anything more. Now, then, what does this Extraordinary Man do? He lays those snips and that dirt out

on the table and leans over them on his elbows, and puts them together side by side and studies

themmumbles to himself, 'Female'; changes them aroundmumbles, 'Six years old'; changes them this

kip.' Then he straightens up and gazes toward heaven, and plows his hands through his hairplows and

plows, muttering, 'Damn that kip!' Then he stands up and frowns, and begins to tally off his clues on his

fingersand gets stuck at the ringfinger. But only just a minutethen his face glares all up in a smile like

a house afire, and he straightens up stately and majestic, and says to the crowd, 'Take a lantern, a couple of

you, and go down to Injun Billy's and fetch the childthe rest of you go 'long home to bed; goodnight,

madam; goodnight, gents.' And he bows like the Matterhorn, and pulls out for the tavern. That's his style,

and the Onlyscientific, intellectualall over in fifteen minutesno poking around all over the

sagebrush range an hour and a half in a massmeeting crowd for him, boysyou hear me!"

"By Jackson, it's grand!" said Ham Sandwich. "WellsFargo, you've got him down to a dot. He ain't

painted up any exacter to the life in the books. By George, I can juse see himcan't you, boys?"

Ferguson was profoundly pleased with his success, and grateful. He sat silently enjoying his happiness a

At eight o'clock that evening two persons were groping their way past Flint Buckner's cabin in the frosty

"Stop here in the road a moment, uncle," said Fetlock, "while I run to my cabin; I won't be gone a

He asked for somethingthe uncle furnished itthen he disappeared in the darkness, but soon returned,

and the talkingwalk was resumed. By nine o'clock they had wandered back to the tavern. They worked their

way through the billiardroom, where a crowd had gathered in the hope of getting a glimpse of the

Extraordinary Man. A royal cheer was raised. Mr. Holmes acknowledged the compliment with a series of

"Uncle Sherlock's got some work to do, gentlemen, that 'll keep him till twelve or one; but he'll be down

again then, or earlier if he can, and hopes some of you'll be left to take a drink with him."

"By George, he's just a duke, boys! Three cheers for Sherlock Holmes, the greatest man that ever lived!"

The uproar shook the building, so hearty was the feeling the boys put into their welcome. Upstairs the

"I reckon you don't want to be unpopular, do you, uncle? Well, then, don't you put on any exclusiveness

in a miningcamp, that's all. The boys admire you; but if you was to leave without taking a drink with them,

they'd set you down for a snob. And besides, you said you had home talk enough in stock to keep us up and at

The boy was right, and wisethe uncle acknowledged it. The boy was wise in another detail which he

did not mentionexcept to himself: "Uncle and the others will come handyin the way of nailing an alibi

He and his uncle talked diligently about three hours. Then, about midnight, Fetlock stepped downstairs

and took a position in the dark a dozen steps from the tavern, and waited. Five minutes later Flint Buckner

"I've got him!" muttered the boy. He continued to himself, looking after the shadowy form:

"Goodbygoodby for good, Flint Buckner; you called my mother awell, never mind what: it's all right,

He went musing back into the tavern. "From now till one is an hour. We'll spend it with the boys; it's

He brought Sherlock Holmes to the billiardroom, which was jammed with eager and admiring miners;

the guest called the drinks, and the fun began. Everybody was happy; everybody was complimentary; the ice

was soon broken, songs, anecdotes, and more drinks followed, and the pregnant minutes flew. At six minutes

There was silence instantly. The deep sound came rolling and rumbling frown peak to peak up the gorge,

then died down, and ceased. The spell broke, then, and the men made a rush for the door, saying:

Outside, a voice in the darkness said, "It's away down the gorge; I saw the flash."

The crowd poured down the ca�onHolmes, Fetlock, Archy Stillman, everybody. They made the mile

in a few minutes. By the light of a lantern they found the smooth and solid dirt floor of Flint Buckner's cabin;

of the cabin itself not a vestige remained, not a rag nor a splinter. Nor any sign of Flint. Searchparties

It was true. Fifty yards down the gulch they had found himthat is, they had found a crushed and

lifeless mass which represented him. Fetlock Jones hurried thither with the others and looked.

The inquest was a fifteenminute affair. Ham Sandwich, foreman of the jury, handed up the verdict,

which was phrased with a certain unstudied literary grace, and closed with this finding, to wit: that "deceased

came to his death by his own act or some other person or persons unknown to this jury not leaving any family

or similar effects behind but his cabin which was blown away and God have mercy on his soul amen."

Then the impatient jury rejoined the main crowd, for the stormcenter of interest was thereSherlock

Holmes. The miners stood silent and reverent in a halfcircle, inclosing a large vacant space which included

the front exposure of the site of the late premises. In this considerable space the Extraordinary Man was

moving about, attended by his nephew with a lantern. With a tape he took measurements of the cabin site; of

the distance from the wall of chaparral to the road; of the height of the chaparral bushes; also various other

measurements. He gathered a rag here, a splinter there, and a pinch of earth yonder, inspected them

profoundly, and preserved them. He took the "lay" of the place with a pocketcompass, allowing two seconds

for magnetic variation. He took the time (Pacific) by his watch, correcting it for local time. He paced off the

distance from the cabin site to the corpse, and corrected that for tidal differentiation. He took the altitude with

a pocketaneroid, and the temperature with a pocketthermometer. Finally he said, with a stately bow:

He took up the line of march for the tavern, and the crowd fell into his wake, earnestly discussing and

admiring the Extraordinary Man, and interlarding guesses as to the origin of the tragedy and who the author

"It's the biggest thing of the century," said Ham Sandwich. "It 'll go all over the world; you mark my

"You bet!" said Jake Parker, the blacksmith. "It 'll boom this camp. Ain't it so, WellsFargo?"

"Well, as you want my opinionif it's any sign of how I think about it, I can tell you this: yesterday I

was holding the Straight Flush claim at two dollars a foot; I'd like to see the man that can get it at sixteen

"Right you are, WellsFargo! It's the grandest luck a new camp ever struck. Say, did you see him collar

them little rags and dirt and things? What an eye! He just can't overlook a clue'tain't in him."

"That's so. And they wouldn't mean a thing to anybody else; but to him, why, they're just a booklarge

"Sure's you're born! Them odds and ends have got their little old secret, and they think there ain't

anybody can pull it; but, land! when he sets his grip there they've got to squeal, and don't you forget it."

"Boys, I ain't sorry, now, that he wasn't here to roust out the child; this is a bigger thing, by a long sight.

"I reckon we're all of us glad it's turned out this way. Glad? 'George! it ain't any name for it.

Dontchuknow, Archy could 've learnt something if he'd had the nous to stand by and take notice of how that

man works the system. But no; he went poking up into the chaparral and just missed the whole thing."

"It's true as gospel; I seen it myself. Well, Archy's young. He'll know better one of these days."

That was a difficult question, and brought out a world of unsatisfying conjecture. Various men were

mentioned as possibilities, but one by one they were discarded as not being eligible. No one but young

Hillyer had been intimate with Flint Buckner; no one had really had a quarrel with him; he had affronted

every man who had tried to make up to him, although not quite offensively enough to require bloodshed.

There was one name that was upon every tongue from the start, but it was the last to get utteranceFetlock

"Oh, well," the boys said, "of course we've all thought of him, because he had a million rights to kill

Flint Buckner, and it was just his plain duty to do it. But all the same there's two things we can't get around:

for one thing, he hasn't got the sand; and for another, he wasn't anywhere near the place when it happened."

"I know it," said Pat. "He was there in the billiardroom with us when it happened."

"It's so. And lucky for him, too. He'd have been suspected in a minute if it hadn't been for that."

The tavern diningroom had been cleared of all its furniture save one sixfoot pine table and a chair.

This table was against one end of the room; the chair was on it; Sherlock Holmes, stately, imposing,

impressive, sat in the chair. The public stood. The room was full. The tobaccosmoke was dense, the stillness

The Extraordinary Man raised his hand to command additional silence; held it in the air a few moments;

then, in brief, crisp terms he put forward question after question, and noted the answers with "Umums,"

nods of the head, and so on. By this process he learned all about Flint Buckner, his character, conduct, and

habits, that the people were able to tell him. It thus transpired that the Extraordinary Man's nephew was the

only person in the camp who had a killinggrudge against Flint Buckner. Mr. Holmes smiled

"Do any of you gentlemen chance to know where the lad Fetlock Jones was at the time of the

"Ah. It is aboutaboutwell, about how far might it be to the scene of the explosions"

A stormburst of laughter, mingled with shouts of "By jiminy, but he's chainlightning!" and "Ain't you

sorry you spoke, Sandy?" shut off the rest of the sentence, and the crushed witness drooped his blushing face

"The lad Jones's somewhat distant connection with the case" (laughter) "having been disposed of, let us

He got out his fragmentary clues and arranged them on a sheet of cardboard on his knee. The house held

"We have the longitude and the latitude, corrected for magnetic variation, and this gives us the exact

location of the tragedy. We have the altitude, the temperature, and the degree of humidity

prevailinginestimably valuable, since they enable us to estimate with precision the degree of influence

which they would exercise upon the mood and disposition of the assassin at that time of the night."

(Buzz of admiration; muttered remark, "By George, but he's deep.") He fingered his clues. "And now let

"Here we have an empty linen shotbag. What is its message? This: that robbery was the motive, not

revenge. What is its further message? This: that the assassin was of inferior intelligenceshall we say

lightwitted, or perhaps approaching that? How do we know this? Because a person of sound intelligence

would not have proposed to rob the man Buckner, who never had much money with him. But the assassin

might have been a stranger? Let the bag speak again. I take from it this article. It is a bit of silverbearing

quartz. It is peculiar. Examine it, pleaseyouand youand you. Now pass it back, please. There is but

one lode on this coast which produces just that character and color of quartz; and that is a lode which crops

out for nearly two miles on a stretch, and in my opinion is destined, at no distant day, to confer upon its

locality a globegirdling celebrity, and upon its two hundred owners riches beyond the dreams of avarice.

A wild crash of hurrahs followed, and every man reached for his neighbor's hand and wrung it, with tears

in his eyes; and WellsFargo Ferguson shouted, "The Straight Flush is on the lode, and up she goes to a

"We perceive, then, that three facts are established, to wit: the assassin was approximately lightwitted;

he was not a stranger; his motive was robbery, not revenge. Let us proceed. I hold in my hand a small

fragment of fuse, with the recent smell of fire upon it. What is its testimony? Taken with the corroborative

evidence of the quartz, it reveals to us that the assassin was a miner. What does it tell us further? This,

gentlemen: that the assassination was consummated by means of an explosive. What else does it say? This:

that the explosive was located against the side of the cabin nearest the roadthe front sidefor within six

"I hold in my fingers a burnt Swedish matchthe kind one rubs on a safetybox. I found it in the road,

six hundred and twentytwo feet from the abolished cabin. What does it say? This: that the train was fired

from that point. What further does it tell us? This: that the assassin was lefthanded. How do I know this? I

should not be able to explain to you, gentlemen, how I know it, the signs being so subtle that only long

experience and deep study can enable one to detect them. But the signs are here, and they are reinforced by a

fact which you must have often noticed in the great detective narrativesthat all assassins are lefthanded."

"By Jackson, that's so." said Ham Sandwich, bringing his great hand down with a resounding slap upon

"Nor I!" "Nor I!" cried several. "Oh, there can't anything escape himlook at his eye!"

"Gentlemen, distant as the murderer was from his doomed victim, he did not wholly escape injury. This

fragment of wood which I now exhibit to you struck him. It drew blood. Wherever he is, he bears the telltale

mark. I picked it up where he stood when he fired the fatal train," He looked out over the house from his high

perch, and his countenance began to darken; he slowly raised his hand, and pointed:

For a moment the house was paralyzed with amazement; then twenty voices burst out with:

Hillyer turned white with fright. He was near to crying. He turned this way and that, appealing to every

face for help and sympathy; and held out his supplicating hands toward Holmes and began to plead:

"Don't, oh, don't! I never did it; I give my word I never did it. The way I got this hurt on my forehead

Hillyer broke out with another appeal. "Oh, Archy, don't let them do it; it would kill mother! You know

"Yes, I'll save you. Don't be afraid." Then he said to the house, "Never mind how he got the hurt; it hasn't

"Hurrah for Archy! Go in, boy, and play 'em a knockdown flush to their two pair 'n' a jack!" shouted the

house, pride in their home talent and a patriotic sentiment of loyalty to it rising suddenly in the public heart

"I will ask Tom Jeffries to stand by that door yonder, and Constable Harris to stand by the other one

"The criminal is present, I believe. I will show him to you before long, in case I am right in my guess.

Now I will tell you all about the tragedy, from start to finish. The motive wasn't robbery; it was revenge. The

murderer wasn't lightwitted. He didn't stand six hundred and twentytwo feet away. He didn't get hit with a

piece of wood. He didn't place the explosive against the cabin. He didn't bring a shotbag with him, and he

wasn't lefthanded. With the exception of these errors, the distinguished guest's statement of the case is

A comfortable laugh rippled over the house; friend nodded to friend, as much as to say, "That's the word,

"I also have some witnesses; and I will presently tell you where you can find some more." He held up a

piece of coarse wire; the crowd craned their necks to see. "It has a smooth coating of melted tallow on it. And

here is a candle which is burned halfway down. The remaining half of it has marks cut upon it an inch apart.

Soon I will tell you where I found these things. I will now put aside reasonings, guesses, the impressive

hitchings of odds and ends of clues together, and the other showy theatricals of the detective trade, and tell

He paused a moment, for effectto allow silence and suspense to intensify and concentrate the house's

"The assassin studied out his plan with a good deal of pains. It was a good plan, very ingenious, and

showed an intelligent mind, not a feeble one. It was a plan which was well calculated to ward off all

suspicion from its inventor. In the first place, he marked a candle into spaces an inch apart, and lit it and

timed it. He found it took three hours to burn four inches of it. I tried it myself for half an hour, awhile ago,

upstairs here, while the inquiry into Flint Buckner's character and ways was being conducted in this room,

and I arrived in that way at the rate of a candle's consumption when sheltered from the wind. Having proved

his trial candle's rate, he blew it outI have already shown it to youand put his inchmarks on a fresh

"He put the fresh one into a tin candlestick. Then at the fivehour mark he bored a hole through the

candle with a redhot wire. I have already shown you the wire, with a smooth coat of tallow on ittallow

"With laborvery hard labor, I should sayhe struggled up through the stiff chaparral that clothes the

steep hillside back of Flint Buckner's place, tugging an empty flourbarrel with him. He placed it in that

absolutely secure hidingplace, and in the bottom of it he set the candlestick. Then he measured off about

thirtyfive feet of fusethe barrel's distance from the back of the cabin. He bored a hole in the side of the

barrelhere is the large gimlet he did it with. He went on and finished his work; and when it was done, one

end of the fuse was in Buckner's cabin, and the other end, with a notch chipped in it to expose the powder,

was in the hole in the candletimed to blow the place up at one o'clock this morning, provided the candle

was lit about eight o'clock yesterday eveningwhich I am betting it wasand provided there was an

explosive in the cabin and connected with that end of the fusewhich I am also betting there was, though I

can't prove it. Boys, the barrel is there in the chaparral, the candle's remains are in it in the tin stick; the

burntout fuse is in the gimlethole, the other end is down the hill where the late cabin stood. I saw them all

an hour or two ago, when the Professor here was measuring off unimplicated vacancies and collecting relics

He paused. The house drew a long, deep breath, shook its strained cords and muscles free and burst into

cheers. "Dang him!" said Ham Sandwich, "that's why he was snooping around in the chaparral, instead of

picking up points out of the P'fessor's game. Looky herehe ain't no fool, boys."

"While we were out yonder an hour or two ago, the owner of the gimlet and the trial candle took them

from a place where he had concealed themit was not a good placeand carried them to what he probably

thought was a better one, two hundred yards up in the pine woods, and hid them there, covering them over

with pine needles. It was there that I found them. The gimlet exactly fits the hole in the barrel. And now"

"We have had a very pretty fairy tale, gentlemenvery pretty indeed. Now I would like to ask this

"Let us proceed to examine into this fairy tale in a consecutive and orderly wayby geometrical

progression, so to speaklinking detail to detail in a steadily advancing and remorselessly consistent and

unassailable march upon this tinsel toy fortress of error, the dream fabric of a callow imagination. To begin

with, young sir, I desire to ask you but three questions at presentat present. Did I understand you to say it

was your opinion that the supposititious candle was lighted at about eight o'clock yesterday evening?"

"Um. If a person had been passing along there just about that time, he would have been almost sure to

Stillman said, glancing at the guest, "I was along there myself at halfpast eightno, about nine."

"Indeed? This is interestingthis is very interesting. Perhaps you encountered the assassin?"

"Ah. Thenif you will excuse the remarkI do not quite see the relevancy of the information."

He paused. Presently he resumed: "I did not encounter the assassin, but I am on his track, I am sure, for I

believe he is in this room. I will ask you all to pass one by one in front of mehere, where there is a good

A buzz of excitement swept the place, and the march began, the guest looking on with an iron attempt at

gravity which was not an unqualified success. Stillman stooped, shaded his eyes with his hand, and gazed

down intently at each pair of feet as it passed. Fifty men tramped monotonously bywith no result. Sixty.

Seventy. The thing was beginning to look absurd. The guest remarked, with suave irony:

The house saw the humor if it, and refreshed itself with a cordial laugh. Ten or twelve more candidates

tramped byno, danced by, with airy and ridiculous capers which convulsed the spectatorsthen suddenly

"Fetlock Jones, by the great Sanhedrim!" roared the crowd; and at once let fly a pyrotechnic explosion

At the height of the turmoil the guest stretched out his hand, commanding peace. The authority of a great

name and a great personality laid its mysterious compulsion upon the house, and it obeyed. Out of the panting

"This is serious. It strikes at an innocent life. Innocent beyond suspicion! Innocent beyond peradventure!

Hear me prove it; observe how simple a fact can brush out of existence this witless lie. Listen. My friends,

It made a deep impression. Men turned their eyes upon Stillman with grave inquiry in them. His face

"I knew there was another one!" He stepped briskly to the table and glanced at the guest's feet, then up at

his face, and said: "You were with him! You were not fifty steps from him when he lit the candle that by and

by fired the powder!" (Sensation.) "And what is more, you furnished the matches yourself !"

Plainly the guest seemed hit; it looked so to the public. He opened his mouth to speak; the words did not

"It is waxa breed unknown to this camp. I am ready to be searched for the box. Are you?"

The guest was staggered this timethe dullest eye could see it. He fumbled with his hands; once or

twice his lips moved, but the words did not come. The house waited and watched, in tense suspense, the

There was silence again during several moments; then the guest answered, in a low voice:

There was no noisy demonstration, but all about the house one voice after another muttered:

What to do now? Nobody seemed to know. It was an embarrassing situation for the momentmerely, of

course, because matters had taken such a sudden and unexpected turn that these unpractised minds were not

prepared for it, and had come to a standstill, like a stopped clock, under the shock. But after a little the

machinery began to work again, tentatively, and by twos and threes the men put their heads together and

privately buzzed over this and that and the other proposition. One of these propositions met with much favor;

it was, to confer upon the assassin a vote of thanks for removing Flint Buckner, and let him go. But the cooler

heads opposed it, pointing out that addled brains in the Eastern states would pronounce it a scandal, and make

no end of foolish noise about it. Finally the cool heads got the upper hand, and obtained general consent to a

proposition of their own; their leader then called the house to order and stated itto this effect: that Fetlock

The motion was carried. Apparently there was nothing further to do now, and the people were glad, for,

privately, they were impatient to get out and rush to the scene of the tragedy, and see whether that barrel and

But nothe breakup got a check. The surprises were not over yet. For a while Fetlock Jones had been

silently sobbing, unnoticed in the absorbing excitements which had been following one another so

persistently for some time; but when his arrest and trial were decreed, he broke out despairingly, and said:

"No! it's no use. I don't want any jail, I don't want any trial; I've had all the hard luck I want, and all the

miseries. Hang me now, and let me out! It would all come out, anywaythere couldn't anything save me. He

has told it all, just as if he'd been with me and seen itI don't know how he found out; and you'll find the

barrel and things, and then I wouldn't have any chance any more. I killed him; and you'd have done it too, if

he'd treated you like a dog, and you only a boy, and weak and poor, and not a friend to help you."

"When you was out on such a business as that, how did you venture to risk having him alongand him

The boy hesitated, fumbled with his buttons in an embarrassed way, then said, shyly:

"I know about detectives, on account of having them in the family; and if you don't want them to find out

The cyclone of laughter which greeted this native discharge of wisdom did not modify the poor little

Fetlock Jones was put under lock and key in an unoccupied log cabin, and left there to await his trial.

Constable Harris provided him with a couple of days' rations, instructed him to keep a good guard over

himself, and promised to look in on him as soon as further supplies should be due.

Next morning a score of us went with Hillyer, out of friendship, and helped him bury his late relative, the

unlamented Buckner, and I acted as first assistant pallbearer, Hillyer acting as chief. Just as we had finished

our labors a ragged and melancholy stranger, carrying an old handbag, limped by with his head down, and I

caught the scent I had chased around the globe! It was the odor of Paradise to my perishing hope!

In a moment I was at his side and had laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder. He slumped to the ground as

if a stroke of lightning had withered him in his tracks; and as the boys came running he struggled to his knees

and put up his pleading hands to me, and out of his chattering jaws he begged me to persecute him no more,

"You have hunted me around the world, Sherlock Holmes, yet God is my witness I have never done any

A glance at his wild eyes showed us that he was insane. That was my work, mother! The tidings of your

death can some day repeat the misery I felt in that moment, but nothing else can ever do it. The boys lifted

him up, and gathered about him, and were full of pity of him, and said the gentlest and touchingest things to

him, and said cheer up and don't be troubled, he was among friends now, and they would take care of him,

and protect him, and hang any man that laid a hand on him. They are just like so many mothers, the rough

miningcamp boys are, when you wake up the south side of their hearts; yes, and just like so many reckless

and unreasoning children when you wake up the opposite of that muscle. They did everything they could

think of to comfort him, but nothing succeeded until WellsFargo Ferguson, who is a clever strategist, said:

"If it's only Sherlock Holmes that's troubling you, you needn't worry any more."

"Dead! Dead! Oh, don't trifle with a poor wreck like me. Is he dead? On honor, nowis he telling me

"True as you're standing there!" said Ham Sandwich, and they all backed up the statement in a body.

"They hung him in San Bernardino last week," added Ferguson, clinching the matter, "whilst he was

searching around after you. Mistook him for another man. They're sorry, but they can't help it now."

"They're abuilding him a monument," said Ham Sandwich, with the air of a person who had contributed

"James Walker" drew a deep sighevidently a sigh of reliefand said nothing; but his eyes lost

something of their wildness, his countenance cleared visibly, and its drawn look relaxed a little. We all went

to our cabin, and the boys cooked him the best dinner the camp could furnish the materials for, and while

they were about it Hillyer and I outfitted him from hat to shoeleather with new clothes of ours, and made a

comely and presentable old gentleman of him. "Old" is the right word, and a pity, too: old by the droop of

him, and the frost upon his hair, and the marks which sorrow and distress have left upon his face; though he is

only in his prime in the matter of years. While he ate, we smoked and chatted; and when he was finishing he

found his voice at last, and of his own accord broke out with his personal history. I cannot furnish his exact

It happened like this: I was in Denver. I had been there many years; sometimes I remember how many,

sometimes I don'tbut it isn't any matter. All of a sudden I got a notice to leave, or I would be exposed for a

I knew about that crime, but I was not the criminal; it was a cousin of mine of the same name. What

should I better do? My head was all disordered by fear, and I didn't know. I was allowed very little

timeonly one day, I think it was. I would be ruined if I was published, and the people would lynch me, and

not believe what I said. It is always the way with lynchings: when they find out it is a mistake they are sorry,

but it is too latethe same as it was with Mr. Holmes, you see. So I said I would sell out and get money to

live on, and run away until it blew over and I could come back with my proofs. Then I escaped in the night

and went a long way off in the mountains somewhere, and lived disguised and had a false name.

I got more and more troubled and worried, and my troubles made me see spirits and hear voices, and I

could not think straight and clear on any subject, but got confused and involved and had to give it up, because

my head hurt so. It got to be worse and worse; more spirits and more voices. They were about me all the

time; at first only in the night, then in the day too. They were always whispering around my bed and plotting

against me, and it broke my sleep and kept me fagged out, because I got no good rest.

And then came the worst. One night the whispers said, "We'll never manage, because we can't see him,

They sighed; then one said: "We must bring Sherlock Holmes. He can be here in twelve days."

They all agreed, and whispered and jibbered with joy. But my heart broke; for I had read about that man,

and knew what it would be to have him upon my track, with his superhuman penetration and tireless energies.

The spirits went away to fetch him, and I got up at once in the middle of the night and fled away,

carrying nothing but the handbag that had my money in itthirty thousand dollars; twothirds of it are in

the bag there yet. It was forty days before that man caught up on my track. I just escaped. From habit he had

written his real name on a tavern register, but had scratched it out and written "Dagget Barclay" in the place

of it. But fear gives you a watchful eye and keen, and I read the true name through the scratches, and fled like

He has hunted me all over this world for three years and a halfthe Pacific states, Australasia,

Indiaeverywhere you can think of; then back to Mexico and up to California again, giving me hardly any

rest; but that name on the registers always saved me, and what is left of me is alive yet. And I am so tired! A

cruel time he has given me, yet I give you my honor I have never harmed him nor any man.

That was the end of the story, and it stirred those boys to bloodheat, he sure of it. As for meeach word

We voted that the old man should bunk with us, and be my guest and Hillyer's. I shall keep my own

counsel, naturally; but as soon as he is well rested and nourished, I shall take him to Denver and rehabilitate

The boys gave the old fellow the bonesmashing goodfellowship handshake of the mines, and then

At dawn next morning WellsFargo Ferguson and Ham Sandwich called us softly out, and said,

"That news about the way that old stranger has been treated has spread all around, and the camps are up.

They are piling in from everywhere, and are going to lynch the P'fessor. Constable Harris is in a dead funk,

We started on a run. The others were privileged to feel as they chose, but in my heart's privacy I hoped

the sheriff would arrive in time; for I had small desire that Sherlock Holmes should hang for my deeds, as

"Can he stop a mob! Can Jack Fairfax stop a mob! Well, I should smile! Exdesperadonineteen scalps

As we tore up the gulch, distant cries and shouts and yells rose faintly on the still air, and grew steadily

in strength as we raced along. Roar after roar burst out, stronger and stronger, nearer and nearer; and at last,

when we closed up upon the multitude massed in the open area in front of the tavern, the crash of sound was

deafening. Some brutal roughs from Daly's gorge had Holmes in their grip, and he was the calmest man there;

a contemptuous smile played about his lips, and if any fear of death was in his British heart, his iron

"Come to a vote, men!" This from one of the Daly gang, Shadbelly Higgins. "Quick! is it hang, or

"Neither!" shouted one of his comrades. "He'll he alive again in a week; burning's the only permanency

The gangs from all the outlying camps burst out in a thundercrash of approval, and went struggling and

surging toward the prisoner, and closed around him, shouting, "Fire! fire's the ticket!" They dragged him to

the horsepost, backed him against it, chained him to it, and piled wood and pine cones around him

waistdeep. Still the strong face did not blench, and still the scornful smile played about the thin lips.

Shadbelly struck it, shaded it with his hand, stooped, and held it under a pine cone. A deep silence fell

upon the mob. The cone caught, a tiny flame flickered about it a moment or two. I seemed to catch the sound

of distant hoofsit grew more distinctstill more and more distinct, more and more definite, but the

absorbed crowd did not appear to notice it. The match went out. The man struck another, stooped, and again

the flame rose; this time it took hold and began to spreadhere and there men turned away their faces. The

executioner stood with the charred match in his fingers, watching his work. The hoofbeats turned a

projecting crag, and now they came thundering down upon us. Almost the next moment there was a shout:

And straightway he came tearing into the midst, stood his horse almost on his hind feet, and said:

He was obeyed. By all but their leader. He stood his ground, and his hand went to his revolver. The

"Drop your hand, you parlor desperado. Kick the fire away. Now unchain the stranger."

The parlor desperado obeyed. Then the sheriff made a speech; sitting his horse at martial ease, and not

warming his words with any touch of fire, but delivering them in a measured and deliberate way, and in a

tone which harmonized with their character and made them impressively disrespectful.

"You're a nice lotnow ain't you? Just about eligible to travel with this bilk hereShadbelly

Higginsthis loudmouthed sneak that shoots people in the back and calls himself a desperado. If there's

anything I do particularly despise, it's a lynching mob; I've never seen one that had a man in it. It has to tally

up a hundred against one before it can pump up pluck enough to tackle a sick tailor. It's made up of cowards,

and so is the community that breeds it; and ninetynine times out of a hundred the sheriff's another one." He

pausedapparently to turn that last idea over in his mind and taste the juice of itthen he went on: "The

sheriff that lets a mob take a prisoner away from him is the lowestdown coward there is. By the statistics

there was a hundred and eightytwo of them drawing sneak pay in America last year. By the way it's going,

pretty soon there 'll be a new disease in the doctorbookssheriff complaint." That idea pleased himany

one could see it. "People will say, 'Sheriff sick again?' 'Yes; got the same old thing.' And next there 'll be a

new title. People won't say, 'He's running for sheriff of Rapaho County,' for instance; they'll say, 'He's

running for Coward of Rapaho.' Lord, the idea of a grownup person being afraid of a lynch mob!"

He turned an eye on the captive, and said, "Stranger, who are you, and what have you been doing?"

It was wonderful, the impression which the sound of that name made on the sheriff, notwithstanding he

must have come posted. He spoke up with feeling, and said it was a blot on the county that a man whose

marvelous exploits had filled the world with their fame and their ingenuity, and whose histories of them had

won every reader's heart by the brilliancy and charm of their literary setting, should be visited under the Stars

and Stripes by an outrage like this. He apologized in the name of the whole nation, and made Holmes a most

handsome bow, and told Constable Harris to see him to his quarters, and hold himself personally responsible

"Hunt your holes, you scum!" which they did; then he said: "Follow me, Shadbelly; I'll take care of your

case myself. Nokeep your popgun; whenever I see the day that I'll be afraid to have you behind me with

that thing, it 'll be time for me to join last year's hundred and eightytwo"; and he rode off in a walk,

When we were on our way back to our cabin, toward breakfasttime, we ran upon the news that Fetlock

Jones had escaped from his lockup in the night and is gone! Nobody is sorry. Let his uncle track him out if

"James Walker" is all right in body now, and his mind shows improvement too. I start with him for

As we were starting, this morning, Hillyer whispered to me: "Keep this news from Walker until you

think it safe and not likely to disturb his mind and check his improvement: the ancient crime he spoke of was

really committedand by his cousin, as he said. We buried the real criminal the other daythe unhappiest

man that has lived in a centuryFlint Buckner. His real name was Jacob Fuller!" There, mother, by help of

me, an unwitting mourner, your husband and my father is in his grave. Let him rest.