Frontier Samson remained silent for a few minutes after the confession had been concluded..  He looked straight before him off among the trees as if he saw something there.  Reynolds wondered what he was thinking about, and whether he considered him a fool for becoming so infatuated over a mere girl.

“I must seem ridiculous to you,” he at length remarked.  “Would any man in his senses act as I have?”

“Ye might do worse,” was the quiet reply.  “I am sartinly interested in what ye’ve jist told me, an’ I thank ye fer yer confidence.  Me own heart was stirred once, an’ the feelin’ ain’t altogether left me yit.  But ye’ve got a difficult problem ahead of ye, young man.  Ye want that lass, so I believe, but between you an’ her stands Jim Weston.”

“And the girl, why don’t you say?”

“Sure, sure; she’s to be considered.  But a gal kin be won when she takes a fancy to a man of your make-up.  The trouble’ll be with her dad, an’ don’t fergit that.  But thar, I guess we’ve talked enough about this fer the present.  I’m dead beat an’ want some sleep.  We must be away early in the mornin’, remember.”

“What! are you going my way?” Reynolds eagerly asked.

“Sure; if ye’d like to have me along.  I’m bound fer Big Draw meself.”

It was just what Reynolds desired.  He liked the old prospector, and now that he had confided to him his tale of love, he was drawn closer than ever to this wandering veteran of the trails.

CHAPTER VI

A SHOT THAT TOLD

The life at Big Draw mining camp on Scupper Creek did not appeal to Reynolds.  He watched the men at work upon their various claims, and noted how meagre was their success.  They toiled like slaves, lured on by the hope of a rich strike that never came.  The principal place of meeting was the roadhouse, where “Shorty” Bill held sway.  He lodged men, served meals, and conducted a bar.  He was a good-hearted fellow, rough and uncouth, but well liked by all, and a genial companion.  It was, therefore, but natural that at this place many of the men should congregate at night, and at times during the day, for a brief respite from their labors.  It was here, too, that news would occasionally drift in from the outside world, which would be discussed by the men as they played cards, the only amusement for which they seemed to care.  When the mail arrived, as it did at irregular intervals, all work on the creek was suspended, and the men flocked to the roadhouse to receive their scanty dole of letters and papers.  Shorty was the custodian of the mail after its arrival, and he magnified his office.  With a quid of tobacco tucked away in his cheek, he would study each address most carefully before calling forth the owner’s name in a stentorian voice.