The next point to be ascertained was to what mines he had directed his steps.  This information was hard to obtain.  Finally, a man who had just returned to Deadwood, hearing Luke making inquiries of the hotel clerk, said: 

“I say, young chap, is the man you are after an old party over fifty, with gray hair and a long nose?”

“I think that is the right description,” said Luke, eagerly.  “Can you tell me anything about him?”

“The party I mean, he may be Harding, or may be somebody else, is lying sick at Fenton’s Gulch, about a day’s journey from here—­say twenty miles.”

“Sick?  What is the matter with him?”

“He took a bad cold, and being an old man, couldn’t stand it as well as if he were twenty years younger.  I left him in an old cabin lying on a blanket, looking about as miserable as you would want to see.  Are you a friend of his?”

“I am not acquainted with him,” answered Luke, “but I am sent out by a friend of his in the East.  I am quite anxious to find him.  Can you give me directions?”

“I can do better.  I can guide you there.  I only came to Deadwood for some supplies, and I go back to-morrow morning.”

“If you will let me accompany you I will be very much obliged.”

“You can come with me and welcome.  I shall be glad of your company.  Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Seems to me you’re rather a young chap to come out here alone.”

“I suppose I am,” returned Luke, smiling, “but there was no one else to come with me.  If I find Mr. Harding, I shall be all right.”

“I can promise you that.  It ain’t likely he has got up from his sick-bed and left the mines.  I reckon you’ll find him flat on his back, as I left him.”

Luke learned that his mining friend was known as Jack Baxter.  He seemed a sociable and agreeable man, though rather rough in his outward appearance and manners.  The next morning they started in company, and were compelled to travel all day.  Toward sunset they reached the place known as Fenton’s Gulch.  It was a wild and dreary-looking place, but had a good reputation for its yield of gold dust.

“That’s where you’ll find the man you’re after,” said Baxter, pointing to a dilapidated cabin, somewhat to the left of the mines.

Luke went up to the cabin, the door of which was open, and looked in.

On a pallet in the corner lay a tall man, pale and emaciated.  He heard the slight noise at the door, and without turning his head, said:  “Come in, friend, whoever you are.”

Upon this, Luke advanced into the cabin.

“Is this Mr. James Harding?” he asked.

The sick man turned his head, and his glance rested with surprise upon the boy of sixteen who addressed him.

“Have I seen you before?” he asked.

“No, sir.  I have only just arrived at the Gulch.  You are Mr. Harding?”

“Yes, that is my name; but how did you know it?”