"Like to die?" asked Ralph, eagerly. "Oh, well, I don't know. Men that are always dying live for years sometimes. Haven't you seen him lately?" "No; I never saw him." "How is that?" "He came West when I was a baby." "Have you come out to see him?" "Yes. I thought the old man might need some one to look after him. Has he got any money—enough to live on?" "I reckon so. He's interested in some mines at Eldorado, but he stays in an old tumble-down cabin, and it doesn't cost him anything to live." "Where does he live?" "Come out and I'll show you. About a quarter of a mile back of the settlement." Ralph followed Joe Loche out of the store, and received directions. "So he owns some mines, does he?" asked the young man, with a covetous gleam in his small, bead-like eyes. "Yes." "They ought to be worth something," he said, meditatively. "Yes, the old man may be worth near five thousand dollars." "Does he live alone?" "Yes, quite alone." "I suppose he was never married?" "Don't you know?" "No; he has never written East since he left us. It was only lately that we learned where he was. Then father thought I'd better come out here and look him up." "I reckon he will be glad to see you." "He ought to be; but I am a stranger to him." "I haven't seen him round town lately. I guess he's under the weather." Joe went back into the store, and Ralph Nixon made his way over the rough ground to the old cabin which had been pointed out to him. "I shouldn't wonder if he were a miser," he reflected. "He's been out here twenty-five years, more or less, and has lived on next to nothing. Even if he hasn't made much he's got it all, according to accounts. I'm the only one of his kith and kin that he is likely to see, and he can't do any better than to leave me what he's got. If he doesn't, I'll stay out here and try my own luck at mining. There's no chance for me in the East, even if I hadn't got into trouble." He reached the cabin, and paused for a short time on the outside. It was a tumble-down affair, and looked by no means like the residence of a rich man. This might have dampened Ralph's courage, but that he had made up his mind that his uncle was a miser. Finally he edged round to the side of the cabin and looked in at the window. What he saw was this: in a wooden chair, evidently of home manufacture, sat a decrepit old man. His face was thin, his cheeks hollow, and his hair, perfectly white, scarcely covered his head. His limbs were attenuated, his chest was hollow, and he looked like a very old and infirm man, though he numbered but sixty-five years. "What a skeleton he is!" thought Ralph. "He is just on the verge of the grave, ready to tumble in. It's a lucky thing I came here, for if he had died those roughs at the store would have taken his money and his relations would never have been the wiser. Well, I'll go in and scrape acquaintance with the old effigy."