At the conclusion of a pithy harangue, in which the speaker urged vigorous and brief proceedings against any one detected in such unpardonable conduct, or reasonably suspected of complicity in the crime—for robbing the troughs in a mining country is looked upon as worse than murder, and is considered to be quite as bad as horse-stealing—a voice exclaimed: ‘You air right, colonel!’ Every one started at the sound, and looked in the direction of the speaker, who, having recently joined the meeting, with several others, stood near the door. A dozen men whispered to their next neighbours: ‘Why, it is Rube Steele!’ And significant glances were exchanged. ‘I thought the other day there was Injuns lying around to thieve,’ continued the man; ‘so, when’—— ‘You told us so, Rube,’ interrupted the president; ‘and the Kentucky boys from the Long Placer came into committee on the subject; and their troughs were robbed while they were gone. You know _that_, I estimate?’ A murmur as of approval of the president’s language ran through the meeting. Rube noted this, but it did not disturb him. A peculiarly sinister glance which he threw around him was perhaps natural to his not greatly attractive features. ‘Yes; I expect I know that; and I expect that I know the tale about the Injuns was a fraud,’ returned Rube. Something like a sarcastically approving laugh ran through the meeting at these words; but the speaker continued, without appearing to notice it: ‘That stranger from San Francisco was the man who brought the news. You believed him; so did I.’ ‘We believed you, Rube; you said the man was reliable,’ again interrupted the president. ‘That is so,’ replied Rube. ‘He brought messages from leading Frisco citizens, men known to me, and so I believed him. But I tell you he is no good; and he has gone off with nigh upon three thousand dollars in gold-dust which I trusted to him. He brought me an order from Ben, my pardner, to say he was to have the dust; and though I did not like the idea, I parted with it. And on coming into camp and asking Ben about it, I find he never gave any order at all. And it is my belief that this is the man who robbed the washings at the Kentucky boys’ placer.’ ‘And where is Ben?’ began the president, who would probably have said more, but that a man burst hastily into the saloon as the question was asked, and shouted in answer: ‘Here! Here is Reuben Steele’s pardner. Who wants him?’ ‘We want you to hear what has been said,’ returned the president, ‘and to give us your opinion about Californy Jones—the stranger who was introduced by your pardner, but who, Rube now says, is the man who robbed the placer, and has robbed him of three thousand dollars.’ ‘I can’t say anything about the placer; maybe Rube knows more about that than I do,’ replied the new-comer. ‘But the man has gone off with three thousand dollars; that’s a sure fact; and as Rube gave him the dust, it’s a sure fact too, he knows more about that than I do.’