As the figure disappeared within the mass, three bearded men, dressed like emigrants, looked up furtively, one yellow-haired man stared vacantly and sadly into the fire which illumed the cabin of the little trading boat, while Helen Matalette sprang forward and threw her arms about the figure's neck. "It's all gone, Nell," said the man. "Presses and plates are where nobody will be likely to find them. The Wabash won't tell secrets." "I'm so glad--_oh_, so glad!" cried the girl. "It's a fortune thrown away," said one of the men, moodily. "Yes, and a bad name, too," said she, with flashing eyes. "We're beggars for life, anyhow," growled another of the men. "Nonsense!" exclaimed Matalette. "Nell's right--if we're not tracked and caught, I'll never be sorry that we sunk the accursed business for ever. And, considering our narrow escape, and how it happened, I don't think we're very gentlemanly to sit here bemoaning our luck. Mr. Crewne," continued Matalette, crossing to the yellow-haired figure in front of the fire, "you've saved me--what can I give you?" The young preacher recovered himself, and replied, briefly: "Your soul." Matalette winced, and, in a weak voice, asked: "Anything else?" Crewne looked toward Helen; Helen blushed, and looked a little frightened; Crewne blushed, too, and seemed to be clearing his throat; then, with a mighty effort, he said: "Yes--Helen." The counterfeiter looked at his daughter for an instant, and then failed to see her partly because something marred the clearness of his vision just then, and partly because Crewne, interpreting the father's silence as consent, took possession of the reward he had named, and almost hid her from her father's view. Matalette's section was finally sold for taxes, and was never reclaimed, but the excitement relating to its former occupants was for years so great that the purchasers of the estate found it worldly wisdom to dispense refreshments on the ground. As for Crewne--a few months after the occurrences mentioned above there appeared, in the wilds of Missouri, a young preacher with unusual zeal, and a handsome wife. And about the same time four men entered a quarter-section of prairie-land near the young preacher's station, and appeared then and evermore to be the most ardent and faithful of the young man's admirers. [Illustration] A STORY OF TEN MILE GULCH. I. The horse which Mr. Tom Ruger rode kept the path, steep and rugged though it was, without any guidance from him, and its mate followed demurely. They were accustomed to it; and many a mile had they traversed in this way, taking turns at carrying their owner and master. Indeed, the trio seemed inseparable, and "as happy as Tom Ruger and his horses" was a phrase that was very often heard in every mining camp and settlement.