Everet Mapleson sat suddenly erect and looked the astonishment he felt. His face had grown as white as his shirt front, while his companion was speaking, and his heart was beating with great heavy throbs that almost suffocated him; for a wild suspicion had suddenly taken possession of him. “You say the man’s name was Dale?” he asked. “Yes, William Dale——or Captain Dale, as we all called him. You see he was only newly married, and had just brought the little woman there, and that was the reason he didn’t like to leave her alone over night in that wild region,” the miner explained, beginning to notice his listener’s strange manner. “You are sure that they were married—that she was really his wife?” said Everet, in an excited tone. The miner looked the surprise he felt at such a question. “Why, yes; at least everybody supposed she was his wife; he said she was; while they seemed to set the world by each other, and the poor captain grieved like one bereft of his reason when she died.” “Died?” gasped his listener. “Yes, poor little lady! she was in the camp just one blessed year, then the little shaver came, and the mother never got up again.” “There was a child!” ejaculated Everet Mapleson, losing his self-possession more and more. “Strange,” said the man, with a curious stare, “you seem wonderfully moved over my story—did you ever hear of these people before?” “I’ll tell you by and by. But go on—tell me about this child,” Everet eagerly urged. “Well, there was a fine boy,” continued the miner, “and he was the pride of the camp; you see it was a rare thing for a set of rough miners to have a baby among us, and every man Jack of us took as much interest in him as if he’d been our very own; but it cast a gloom over the whole lot when it came to be known that the gentle little mother had to go. I never saw a fellow so upset as Dale was over it; he went about with a face as white as a sheet, and all bowed down like an old man. Not one of us dared to speak to him he looked so awful, and we all kept out of his way as much as we could. It came at last—the final blow; the captain’s lovely wife—pretty Annie Dale—was dead, and the only baby in the place was motherless. “Annie Dale!” breathed Everet Mapleson, actually growing dizzy as he caught the name.