“He will obey.  That is sure.”

III

Extracts from letters to the mother: 

Denver, April 3, 1897 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 way—­by working at it for wages.  He is a cheerful creature, and his forty-three years sit lightly upon him; he could pass for a younger man—­say thirty-six or thirty-seven.  He has never married again—­passes himself off for a widower.  He stands well, is liked, is popular, and has many friends.  Even I feel a drawing toward him—­the paternal blood in me making its claim.  How blind and unreasoning and arbitrary are some of the laws of nature—­the most of them, in fact!  My task is become hard now—­you realize it? you comprehend, and make allowances?—­and the fire of it has cooled, more than I like to confess to myself, But I will carry it out.  Even with the pleasure paled, the duty remains, and I will not spare him.

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 comforted —­he shall harvest his share.

Silvergulch, May 19 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 paper—­the principal one in the town—­had 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 know how to do the noble thing—­when there’s business in it.

At breakfast I occupied my usual seat—­selected 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.  Seventy-five 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 the town—­with a rail, or a bullet, or something.