"Yes," said Lyle, "several of them, for the miners are mostly very superstitious. Years ago, when there were no well developed mines here, only a few prospects, a man who had just sold one of the properties, was murdered for his money, about half way between here and the mines, where the road is so narrow and passes under the overhanging rocks. He rode a spotted horse, and from the indications when he was found a few days after, he must have made a desperate fight, for both he and the horse were shot several times. Ever since, it has been said that the spotted horse goes up and down the gulch at night, sometimes alone, and sometimes with his rider, and so the gulch received its name." "Is that story still believed here?" asked Houston. "More or less," replied Lyle. "There is just enough faith in it, that, excepting Jack," and she nodded slightly to Miss Gladden, "there is not a miner in camp who could be hired to pass through that part of the gulch at midnight, for fear of seeing the phantom horse and his rider." "Possibly," said Miss Gladden, "it would be well for us to adjourn for the night, or we may have a glimpse of the phantoms; it must be after ten o'clock." "After ten, impossible!" exclaimed Rutherford, springing to his feet; "I beg your pardon, ladies, for having detained you so long; I never dreamed it was so late." "The long twilight here deceives one, I have hardly become accustomed to it myself," said Miss Gladden. "The ladies will surely pardon us," said Houston, "since it is through their making the time pass so pleasantly that we have trespassed." They separated for the night, and a little later, Mr. Blaisdell and Haight came up from the office, but Morgan did not return until daylight was beginning to tinge the eastern sky. CHAPTER IX. A number of days passed uneventfully. Houston was occupied in getting familiarized with the work at the office, having first created an epoch in the history of that institution by having the windows thoroughly cleaned. One of the noted characters of the mining camp was a small boy who, when he could scarcely walk, had, on account of his fearless spirit and indomitable pluck, been dubbed with the name of "Bull-dog." The name was so appropriate, and the little fellow himself so proud of it, that as he grew older it was forgotten if he ever had any other; if he had, no one knew what it was. He was now nearly twelve years of age, as small as most boys of eight or nine, but he possessed the same spirit as of old. Bull-dog was the oldest of five children; his parents lived at the Y, a worthless, disreputable pair; he spent very little time under the parental roof, and filial respect was entirely left out of his composition, and no wonder! He was a favorite among the miners, spending much of his time in the camp, and the shrewd little fellow was very observant of what went on around him, and very keen and worldly-wise in his judgment of human nature as he found it.