As for Mr. Tom Ruger himself, very little was known of him save what had been learned during the two years that he had sojourned among them. Where he came from never was known, nor asked but once by the same person. All that could be said of him might be summed up in the following statement: "The finest-looking, the best-dressed, and the best-mannered man on the Pacific coast, and the best horseman." These were the words of "mine host" at the Ten Mile House, and, as he was a gentleman whose word was as good as his paper, we will accept them as truth. As Mr. Ruger rode down the mountain-side that beautiful Autumn day, dressed in the finest of broadcloth, with linen of the most immaculate whiteness, smoking what appeared to be a very good cigar, and humming to himself a fragment of some old song, he looked strangely out of place. So thought Miss Fanny Borlan as she looked out of the stage-window, and caught her first glimpse of him just where his path intersected the stage-road; and she would have asked the driver about him, had he not been so near. Mr. Ruger caught sight of her face about that time, and tossing away the cigar, he lifted his hat to her in the most approved style. She acknowledged the salute by a bow, and when he rode up to the side of the stage, and made some casual remark about the fine weather, she did not choose to consider it out of the way to receive this advance toward a traveling acquaintance with seeming cordiality. "Have you traveled far?" he asked. "From the Atlantic coast, sir." "The same journey that I intend to take some of these days, only that I hope to substitute the word Pacific at its termination. I hope you are near the end of your journey in this direction?" "My destination is Ten Mile Gulch, I believe; but you have such horrid names out here." "I presume they do appear somewhat queer to a stranger, but they nearly all have the merit of being appropriate. You stop at the settlement?" "I do not know. My brother wrote to me to come to Ten Mile Gulch. Is it the name of a town?" "Both of a village and a mining district, from which the village takes its name. Is your brother a miner?" "Yes, sir." "I presume he intended to meet you at the settlement You will no doubt find him at the tavern; if not, I will tell him of your arrival, for my way leads through the mines." "Thank you, sir. My brother's name is John Borlan." "I am somewhat acquainted with him," said Mr. Kuger, "though in this region of strange names we call him Jack. My name is Thomas Ruger." "Tom, in California style?" she asked, with a merry twinkle in her eye. "Yes, Miss Borlan," he said, also smiling. "Tom Ruger is well known where Thomas Ruger never was heard of. And now I will bid you good-day, Miss Borlan, for I am in something of a hurry to reach the settlement. If I do not find Jack there, I will go on to the mines and tell him."