The stranger broke forth impetuously. “Then you, _you_ can tell me where that gorge is, and we can search the chasms! I feel sure that the silver is there, where the man lost his life,—the silver”— Jepson flung away from him with a gesture so abrupt that Rathburn paused suddenly. “What ails ye, man,” cried the mountaineer, “to talk of silver in the midst o’ the wharfores o’ life an’ death, an’ a-sarchin’ the gorge fur gain stiddier jestice? The place air nuthin’ ter you-uns but the hope o’ gittin’ the riches what one man los’ his life fur, an’ the t’other man tuk it. What sorter critter be ye?” His eyes were blazing with reproach. “What sorter critter be ye?” “A sane one, I hope,” retorted the stranger, fairly overtaken. “I’m not intrusted with the administration of the laws. I have no right to sit in judgment on the justice of Jake Baintree’s acquittal. And it won’t make Samuel Keale any deader than he is—if he is dead—for me to find silver where he looked for it.” “Ye air free fur me ter find it,” said Jepson, “but some time ye’ll ’low the day ye los’ yer soul in the gorge, an’ tuk silver fur its price, war a powerful dark day,—the fore-runner o’ darker ones, an’ eternal gloom.” “I’m not going to lose my soul there!” cried Rathburn. “I am going to take very excellent care of my soul. I am going to strike it rich and be mighty good. Nothing in this world combines like goodness and prosperity,—natural affinities. All the good people are prosperous, and that is why they are _so_ good. Adversity sours on the stomach, and deranges the nervous system, and produces crime.” Jepson’s eyes rested slightingly upon him. “Ye kin persevere, fur I ain’t of a mind ter hender.” Rathburn looked wistfully at him; so flinchingly was he sensible of this arrogance of permission, so did he yearn to flout and retort. Much as he had dared, he hardly dared this. “I see no harm in sech ez ye hev said o’ yer goin’s on, ’ceptin’ it air o’ the pride an’ the willfulness o’ the devil; an’ ef he hev a mind ter mark ye fur his own, I dunno ez I feel called on in ennywise ter stay his hand. But thar may be deceitfulness in yer words, fur I know ye war warned aforehand by a woman.” Rathburn palpably started; his eyes distended as he gazed at his self-constituted judge. How omniscient the masterful mountaineer seemed! Jepson lingered, he hardly knew why, on this phase, despite the pain with which it was fraught. “Leastwise a gal,” he continued, elaborately particularizing. “She warned ye. An’ ye hev hed time ter collogue with Jake Baintree,—a skeery devil; I s’pose he war ’fraid ter kem,—an’ make up lies ter tell when questioned. But ye know now ez ye air watched. Ef ye falter from the straight line, it’ll go hard with ye. Take heed ter yer feet, fur ye will find thar air men in Brumsaidge ez will medjure each pace.”