The man had robbed several rooms at the "Bella Union" during the night, and had succeeded in gathering a large sum. Among the treasures stolen were all the loose funds belonging to the "Combination Troupe," the night's winnings of Mr. Copperas's faro bank, and Miss De Montague's diamonds. But just as the robber, toward daylight, was on the point of making off in safety, he met a lion in the path in Jack Storm. It happened that Jack wanted to have a talk with his partner, Harding, and, as they were then very busy on the claim, made up his mind to compass this purpose bright and early, before getting to work. Stumbling on the marauder, the latter was secured after a struggle, and "the boys" speedily determined to make an example of him. The man begged for a chance of life, and after some debate, had been given the option of the halter or running the gauntlet, with three hundred yards' start, in the way we have described. In the subsequent struggle he had been shot through the lungs, and terribly cut with his own bowie-knife--wrested from him by Jack Storm--and his life was now fast ebbing away. As she came up Jane sprang from her horse, and threw herself on the ground beside the dying man. They had propped his head on a hillock of turf, and some charitable soul had brought water from the river. Judge Carboy quickly put a flask of brandy to the sufferer's lips, and he opened his eyes: "Ja--Jane," he gasped, "my pretty Jane--this is the end--the end of it--a dog's death--and deserved, too-but--I--I--always loved you!" She burst into tears and began sobbing over him and fondling his head. "Don't, darling--don't, little Jenny--it won't be long--I am better away--better for you--there--there! I'm sliding away somewhere--and----" His voice failed, and his dark face began to grow blue. The doctor, who had ridden hastily up, forced between the man's teeth some strong restorative. "I want you to remember--always--that I was drunk when I did it--drunk and crazy. I was bad--vile--but not so bad as that. Don't tell who--who I am. It will only disgrace you--only disgrace you--I'm going, little Jenny----" "Oh, _father_! _father!_" and the poor child bowed down her pretty head on the breast of the wretched thief and murderer, and wept as if her heart would break. "No--no," he muttered; "no, little Jenny, I'm not worth it. Only--don't think worse--worse of me than I deserve. Perhaps mother--in heaven--has forgiven me! She knows--knows--I was mad when I did it." "Yes--yes--I shall remember," whispered she, "always. Now don't talk more--not now." "No--I shan't talk--much more"--a strange wan smile came over his face--"not much more, little Jenny." He put up his hand and stroked her sunny hair.