It looked, at first blush, as if the scout had been dreaming. If he had not been able to show spots on the walls where bullets had struck, many men there would have gone away believing that he had lied. The manhole was found closed. “I don’t see nothin’, though, of the men,” said Shepard, disappointed. “It’s as I said,” was Gopher Gabe’s comment; “some street rowdies that have got it in fer Cody jumped on him in hyer and tried to do him.” “Why war they layin’ fer him in hyar?” asked Nomad. “You can answer that as easy as I can,” the saloon keeper replied. “How am I to know anything about it? Everything was runnin’ along smooth upstairs when this thing happened. If I should make a guess, it’d be that they sneaked down hyer, thinking to find somethin’ they could lug off. Then, when Cody come down they thought he was after ’em; and so they tried to get ’em.” It seemed so reasonable an explanation that most of the men who heard it believed it to be the true one. CHAPTER XIX. SHIFTING THE PRISONERS. The Fool of Folly Mountain had no more than got home when he had callers, though the hour was so late that it verged upon morning. He had lighted his lamp and was thinking of turning in for the balance of the night, when they tapped on his door. When he admitted them he saw that they were Gopher Gabe and White-eyed Moses. “Have seats, gentlemen,” he said, in his suave manner. “Sorry I can’t offer you cushioned rockers, but stools are all I’ve got in stock right now. I haven’t much time to sit down myself, so don’t find the need of soft chairs.” He pushed out two stools for them. Seating himself, Gopher Gabe looked curiously round the room, at its rude and simple furnishing, and then at the man himself. He could not but note that the fellow who called himself Uncle Sam was a tall, handsome man, made remarkable in appearance by his blond mustache and the long, blond hair that fell down on his shoulders. The man’s eyes were keen and penetrating, almost belying the smiling face and genial manner. A door opening into the small back room gave a glimpse of an assayer’s furnace and appliances. “I’m judgin’ that your secret process for gettin’ gold out of just plain dirt is a good deal of a success,” said the saloon keeper, with a meaning smile. “Well, yes; I’m doin’ tol’able in my line, thank you! Took out a snug sum this week.” “And doubled it at my gaming tables.” The stranger’s gurgling laugh overflowed. The compliment seemed to please him. “I hobe that our friendt vill not t’ink it an insuldt if I say that he seems to know vare a blendy of aces are to be foundt most easily,” remarked White-eyed Moses. Uncle Sam laughed again.