He turned quietly on his tormentors, and said,-- “I've got something better than that--you know old man Plunkett?” Everybody simultaneously spat at the stove, and nodded his head. “You know he went home three years ago?” Two or three changed the position of their legs from the backs of different chairs; and one man said, “Yes.” “Had a good time, home?” Everybody looked cautiously at the man who had said, “Yes;” and he, accepting the responsibility with a faint-hearted smile, said, “Yes,” again, and breathed hard. “Saw his wife and child--purty gal?” said Abner cautiously. “Yes,” answered the man doggedly. “Saw her photograph, perhaps?” continued Abner Dean quietly. The man looked hopelessly around for support. Two or three, who had been sitting near him, and evidently encouraging him with a look of interest, now shamelessly abandoned him and looked another way. Henry York flushed a little, and veiled his gray eyes. The man hesitated, and then with a sickly smile, that was intended to convey the fact that he was perfectly aware of the object of this questioning, and was only humoring it from abstract good feeling, returned, “Yes,” again. “Sent home--let's see--ten thousand dollars, wasn't it?” Abner Dean went on. “Yes,” reiterated the man with the same smile. “Well, I thought so,” said Abner quietly. “But the fact is, you see, that he never went home at all--nary time.” Everybody stared at Abner in genuine surprise and interest, as, with provoking calmness and a half-lazy manner, he went on,-- “You see, thar was a man down in 'Frisco as knowed him, and saw him in Sonora during the whole of that three years. He was herding sheep, or tending cattle, or spekilating all that time, and hadn't a red cent. Well it 'mounts to this,--that 'ar Plunkett ain't been east of the Rocky Mountains since '49.” The laugh which Abner Dean had the right to confidently expect came; but it was bitter and sardonic. I think indignation was apparent in the minds of his hearers. It was felt, for the first time, that there was a limit to practical joking. A deception carried on for a year, compromising the sagacity of Monte Flat, was deserving the severest reprobation. Of course, nobody had believed Plunkett; but then the supposition that it might be believed in adjacent camps that they HAD believed him was gall and bitterness. The lawyer thought that an indictment for obtaining money under false pretences might be found. The physician had long suspected him of insanity, and was not certain but that he ought to be confined. The four prominent merchants thought that the business-interests of Monte Flat demanded that something should be done. In the midst of an excited and angry discussion, the door slowly opened, and old man Plunkett staggered into the room.