"These are the two gentlemen I told you about, George," she said to the red-headed man. "Mr. Brooks," she introduced, "but I don’t know your names, gentlemen, beyond just Apache Kid and Francis." George nodded to us. "I guess these names will serve," said he. "How do, gentlemen? Kind of close this eve." "It is, indeed," said Apache Kid. "The Summer is ended, the harvest is past," he quoted. "Yes," said George, "there is that feeling in the air, now." "As if the end of all things was at hand," said Apache Kid. He was looking George right in the eyes. I thought something forbidding was in their exchange of glances, but then of course I had seen them meet before in the peculiar circumstances of which you know. Margaret, I think, saw nothing noteworthy (for all she was a woman), but then, she did not know that these men were acquainted; they gave no sign of that. "You will want a wash before you eat," she said, ushering us in, and George nodded, and, "See you later," said he. Margaret attended to our wants herself when we sat down to table in the fresh dining-room. But there was little said until the meal was over, and she sat down beside us. Apache Kid seemed to be thinking hard. "Well, Miss Pinkerton," he said at last, making bread pills on the table and smoothing a few crumbs about in little mountain ridges and then levelling them again. "You remember what we told you about Mr. Pinkerton’s last wishes for you?" "Yes," she said, "I was telling George what pop had said." Apache’s eyebrows frowned a trifle, and then settled again. "Yes?" he said, as though requesting an explanation of what she meant by this; but she remained silent. "O, I thought perhaps the gentleman had made some suggestion, when you mentioned his name just now," said Apache Kid. But she did not yet reply, and he went on again: "Well, Miss Pinkerton, I may tell you that we failed to find any such bonanza at the Lost Cabin as we had hoped for." Margaret Pinkerton stiffened, and I glanced up to see her looking on Apache’s face with pin-points of eyes and a look on her face as though she said: "So—you are a contemptible fellow, after all." I think she had really admired Apache Kid before, but I surmised—a third party, the one who looks on and does not talk, can surmise a great deal—that, as the saying is, she had been _tampered with_. She had heard tales against my friend, and now doubtless believed that she was provided with proof that he was a rogue. The look on her face was as though she were gaining confirmation. "Excuse me interrupting," said George, in the doorway, "but I suppose you have speciments o’ this ore." I expected Apache Kid either to ignore the interruption or to recognise it with some sarcasm or flash of anger. Instead, he turned lightly to the speaker. "Ah!" he said, "I had not noticed you. So you are interested in——" he paused, "in mines," he said. Margaret stiffened, and George said easily: "Well in this one I reckon I am."