“Don't mention it,” retorted the captain airily. “It ain't worth while. I can't let you claim all the virtues, something's due fallen humanity.” “I have disposed of the tavern for Julia.” The lawyer was willing to change the subject. “First the man of sentiment, now the man of affairs.” And Gibbs beamed upon him. “How much will it fetch?” “Four thousand dollars. I have brought the papers for Julia to sign.” The captain beamed upon him afresh. “That's good; but before I forget it I want to tell you a thing or two that may be of use to you. You don't quite like me yet, but you'll like me better when you know me better, and meantime I am going to serve you in several ways, all touching this mission of yours. I happen to know a trader who is outfitting for Fort Bridger; I am going to introduce you to him and you can cross the plains with him. My advice is that you begin your search at Salt Lake; that knife was purchased of a freighter who was coming out, so Stephen must have reached Salt Lake, or some point near there. If he passed through the city he must have had dealings with the Mormons; you may find some one who will remember him.” “Yes,” said Benson, “you are working it out just about as I worked it out. I am glad to have your opinion,” he concluded frankly. “Now we'll go to the house and see Julia,” said Gibbs. “It isn't far, and then I'll take you to the tavern where the trader I spoke of is stopping; that's not far either.” To Benson, this meeting with his cousin was an embarrassing ordeal, for she received him with an effusive cordiality that was quite unexpected, and to which he found it next to impossible to respond, but Gibbs came at once to his rescue. He fell to explaining the purpose that had brought him West, and with a secret relish and a significance of manner that made Benson's cheeks redden with anger. Mrs. Gibbs, however, was, fortunately, quite oblivious to his meaning, and his studied reiteration of Stephen Landray's name conveyed no idea to her; she evidently accepted her cousin's mission at its face value, a fact which only added to the captain's amusement. When Gibbs finally subsided, Benson quickly concluded his business, and announced that he was ready to go in search of the trader. “Rodney, my dear,” explained the captain. “Such a nice man, Jacob; I'll go, too, and ask him to take the best of care of you,” said Mrs. Gibbs. Benson entered a feeble protest; he was mainly concerned in wishing to escape from this rascally pair, but the captain cut his protest short by saying: “Then hurry into your bonnet, Julia, for Jake's got no time to spare.” And presently they emerged upon the street, accompanied by Mrs. Gibbs, resplendent as to dress, and affectionately leaning on the captain's arm, the very picture of wifely devotion. The moral squalor of the pair moved Benson to a disgust so deep that he found it necessary to cloak his sense of outraged decency in a lofty silence.