A vigorous search was instituted, which resulted a few days later in finding his lifeless body at the bottom of the old prospect shaft. At the coroner’s inquest it was decided that he had been murdered, as was evidenced by peculiar wounds on the back of his head. He was laid to rest by the side of his deceased wife, with a demonstration that far excelled any funeral that had ever taken place in Gold Bluff. Such a cowardly murder excited the sympathy of all who knew him. They forgot the pompous, over-bearing owner of the Peacock, in listening to the minister’s pious words of commendation over the mangled remains of Rufus Grim, the citizen. The mystery surrounding his demise appealed to all law-abiding citizens to help hunt down the assassin. In [219] the feverish excitement it was remembered that Hank Casey and Steve Gibbons were sworn enemies of the rich mine owner; indeed, the latter had even threatened his life in the presence of numerous witnesses. The sheriff who had so ignominiously failed in running down the stage robbers, took the lead in trying to ferret out the murderer and bring him to justice. A few days after this, warrants were sworn out for the arrest of Steve Gibbons and Hank Casey, charging them with the crime. Gibbons was arrested, but Hank Casey could not be found. He had disappeared a few days after the murder, and no one knew where he had gone. Gibbons maintained a dogged silence and seemed much subdued and humiliated that not one of his many supposed friends came forward to sign his bond. Handcuffed and accompanied by the sheriff, heavily armed, he appealed in vain to many, but without success. Vance made himself quite unpopular by offering to sign Steve Gibbons’ bond. The people were indignant and said it was carrying his ill-feeling toward Rufus Grim entirely too far. As he had no property excepting an interest in Gray Rocks mine, which was undeveloped, he was considered incompetent as a bondsman and promptly rejected. One evening Vance worked very late setting type on the Prospector. It was past midnight when he went to his sleeping room. He was about to retire when he heard some one knocking at the printing office door. He admitted the visitor and found it to be J. Arthur Boast. “Good evening, Mr. Gilder,” said he, “I have come to see you on a little matter of great importance to myself.” “Come in,” said Vance, “I have no light in this room; come on into my bedroom.” [220] “You will remember a conversation we had,” said Boast, “some time ago at the hotel.” Vance assented that he did. “Well, I have come tonight to claim a little of the reciprocal friendship which you promised me.”