"Then perhaps you can tell me what I wish to know," said the woman, fixing her clear, sweet eyes upon him. "I want to find a man named Wilmer--James Courtney Wilmer." Cutey shook his head sorrowfully. "Thar be so many names," said he: "skurce any man goes by his own name. Be he livin' in Mariposa, ma'am?" "I do not know," was the reply, with a suggestion of tears in the voice, at which every heart in the crowd by the door was touched and unhappy. Punks nudged Scotty with his elbow. "What's that fellow's name that wus partners with Circus Jack in the Banderita?" he whispered. Scotty rapped his forehead with his horny hand, and ran his fingers into his bushy, tow-colored hair, with a clutch of desperation. "Punks," he whispered, "I allers counted you a fool, but you ain't; you air a shinin' light! His name _wus_ Jim Wilmer." Then, coloring up to the roots of his hair, he advanced and said: "If you please, ma'am." The woman turned at this, meeting a whole battery of eyes without any seeming consciousness of it. "There wus a feller named Jim Wilmer here--wus partners in the Banderita, with a feller named Circ--leastways, I don't know his name, but we called him Circus Jack, ma'am." The woman's face--her beautiful face--turned as white as the collar at her throat; she leaned against the bar and tried to speak, but the words died on her lips. Finally, with an effort, she half whispered: "Do you know where he is now?" Then, as the men looked at each other, she cried in a clearer tone, "Is he _dead_?" "No, no, ma'am. He wus here, 'taint a month," said Scotty. "I think he's off huntin' in the hills. I'll find Circus Jack, and bring him up here. He'll be likely to know--him and Jim wus real good friends." "Thank you," said the stranger softly, in a voice which smote Scotty's heart exceedingly. The Doctor, meanwhile, had gone for Mrs. Sharpe, who presently entered, and invited the stranger to "hev a little tea." She was a small fair woman, with a washed-out look, and a mouth not innocent of _dipping_, but she looked and spoke kindly, and the stranger was glad enough to answer, "Yes," and follow her into the dining-room. The crowd fell back as she approached, but only enough to give her room to pass. Some stealthily touched her dress as she swept by them, and when she had disappeared, and the door had closed, forty tongues were loosed at once, and a scene of excitement ensued only equalled by the one which followed on the shooting of "the Judge" by "Little Jack," over a game of poker, in that very bar-room of the Grand Hotel. "Mought I ax your name, ma'am?" inquired Mrs. Sharpe. "Marian Kingsley," was the faint reply. "Miss or Mrs., ma'am?" pursued Mrs. Sharpe, glancing at the shapely, white, ringless hands. The stranger gave a slight impatient twitch. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Call me Marian. That will do as well as anything."