Charley sought. In the other side pocket he felt another buckskin sack, round and heavy (just as the long-nosed man, who was watching closely, had predicted), but the inside pockets contained nothing at all. The unknown murmured weakly. "I'd better give him a little hot milk, if he can drink it, hadn't I?" proffered Mrs. Adams; she poured a few inches into the glass and held it to his bearded lips. He tried to sip--did sip, greedily, and sank back. Charley started off with the coat, to hang it over a chair. "Here, you!" objected the long-nosed man. "What are you going to do? Half that coat's mine, remember. I helped fetch him in. Half the plunder comes to me." "That's no way to talk, sir," reproved Mr. Adams, sternly. "Would you rob a helpless stranger? Not in this house, sir!" "He's not dead. He's only fainted," informed Mrs. Adams, indignant. "But he gave the stuff away, didn't he?" demanded the long-nosed man. "Sure he did. Supposing he dies on your hands, you count on getting all he has, I reckon! But you won't." "He told me to keep it, anyway, didn't he?" retorted Charley. "He didn't mean you to keep it for yourself, Charley," corrected Mr. Adams. "That's foolishness. He meant that you should keep it safe until he could use it." "Of course," nodded Mrs. Adams. "What had we better do with him, George?" "Let him sleep, if he wants to. His feet are getting warm. He'll be all right." "Lookee here," blustered the long-nosed man. "I come in for half, remember. I helped fetch him in. If it hadn't been for my help he'd have frozen solid where he was, or else the watchman would have picked him up and taken him off. I'm going, now. I've got business to tend to--same as before I was interrupted. I left a business errand, to help fetch him here. Understand? My time's worth money. I know where this house is, and I know your names; and I'm coming 'round again, to see what's what. Half that dust is mine, or I'll make you trouble." "If he doesn't use it, himself, it will go to his kin, sir," returned Mr. Adams. "Kin!" snorted the long-nosed man. "He's from the gold fields. Look at that shirt, and those whiskers and boots; and the dust itself tells the tale. As like as not he hasn't any kin, within reach; and if he has, you're a blamed fool to summon 'em. We've got things in our own hands--understand? Think it over. I'll be 'round. Good-night." "Good-night," they answered. "Open the door for him, Charley," bade Mr. Adams. With a grunty grumble the long-nosed man passed out into the night. Charley hastened back to look at the unknown again. From the California gold fields! Think of that! And with two sacks of gold dust! Who could he be? Where was he going in St. Louis? What had he seen and done, in California? But here he lay, in a stupor, with Mr. Adams rubbing his arms and legs, and Mrs. Adams hovering over with the glass and pitcher. II HURRAH FOR THE GOLDEN WEST