“Either you ’re the coolest devil I ’ve met during thirty years of soldiering,” he commented, doubtfully, “or else the craziest.  Who are you, anyhow?  I half believe you might be Bob Hampton, of Placer.”

The other smiled grimly.  “You have the name tolerably correct, old fellow; likewise that delightful spot so lately honored by my residence.  In brief, you have succeeded in calling the turn perfectly, so far as your limited information extends.  In strict confidence I propose now to impart to you what has hitherto remained a profound secret.  Upon special request of a number of influential citizens of Placer, including the city marshal and other officials, expressed in mass-meeting, I have decided upon deserting that sagebrush metropolis to its just fate, and plan to add the influence of my presence to the future development of Glencaid.  I learn that the climate there is more salubrious, more conducive to long living, the citizens of Placer being peculiarly excitable and careless with their fire-arms.”

The sergeant had been listening with open mouth.  “The hell you say!” he finally ejaculated.

“The undented truth, every word of it.  No wonder you are shocked.  A fine state of affairs, isn’t it, when a plain-spoken, pleasant-mannered gentleman, such as I surely am,—­a university graduate, by all the gods, the nephew of a United States Senator, and acknowledged to be the greatest exponent of scientific poker in this territory,—­should be obliged to hastily change his chosen place of abode because of the threat of an ignorant and depraved mob.  Ever have a rope dangled in front of your eyes, sergeant, and a gun-barrel biting into your cheek at the same time?  Accept my word for it, the experience is trying on the nerves.  Ran a perfectly square game too, and those ducks knew it; but there ’s no true sporting spirit left in this territory any more.  However, spilled milk is never worth sobbing over, and Fate always contrives to play the final hand in any game, and stocks the cards to win.  Quite probably you are familiar with Bobbie Burns, sergeant, and will recall easily these words, ‘The best-laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft agley’?  Well, instead of proceeding, as originally intended, to the delightful environs of Glencaid, for a sort of a Summer vacation, I have, on the impulse of the moment, decided upon crossing the Styx.  Our somewhat impulsive red friends out yonder are kindly preparing to assist me in making a successful passage, and the citizens of Glencaid, when they learn the sorrowful news of my translation, ought to come nobly forward with some suitable memorial to my virtues.  If, by any miracle of chance, you should pull through, Wyman, I would hold it a friendly act if you suggest the matter.  A neat monument, for instance, might suitably voice their grief; it would cost them far less than I should in the flesh, and would prove highly gratifying to me, as well as those mourners left behind in Placer.”