"I hope they'll keep him from thinking of the matches," I said, bitterly. It seemed to me at that moment that Jessie showed more concern for the out-worn garment of the dead than she did for the safety of the living. Big Jim had gone back into the cavern; he, too, had evidently been searching it, for when, at the sound of our approaching footsteps, he appeared at the entrance, it was with father's coat in his hands. Jessie went boldly to his side. "I want that coat, if you please," she said firmly. Jim backed off a little, holding the coat out at arm's length, and examining it critically. "Whose is it?" he asked. "It was my father's; it is ours; please give it to me." Big Jim shook his head. "No; your dog done tore my coat half offen my back; your sister made way with my tonic--I'm 'bleeged to take it for my lungs--an' she's got my gun an' fixin's, an' won't give 'em up. I reckon as I'll jest keep this coat till she forks them things over." "Give him his things, Leslie," Jessie commanded. "No," I remonstrated; "no, Jessie, if I do he will shoot Guard; I'm sure of it." Jessie turned on the dog: "Go home! go home, sir!" she cried, stamping her foot. Guard slunk off, his tail between his legs, and his bright eyes fixed reproachfully on me. I threw the gun with its trappings at the cowboy's feet. "There, take them! You can shoot me if you like. I threw away your whiskey." "I wouldn't 'a' cared a bit if you'd 'a' drunk it, as I reckoned you did," Jim returned with a light laugh, as he picked up the gun. "I ain't agoin' to hurt you; tole you so in the first place. Got your little handkercher yet, I have. Here's the coat." He tossed it into Jessie's outstretched arms. Clasping it tightly to her breast she started quickly down the trail. Following her for a few steps before taking my way over the ridge, I observed that her hands were wandering swiftly over the coat, from pocket to pocket; as if seeking something. Suddenly the expression of intense anxiety on her face gave way to one of unspeakable relief. She turned around quickly and caught my hand: "Come on, you poor, abused girl! Let's run, I am so anxious about Ralph." "I'm glad you've got some affection left for him!" I retorted scornfully. "It seemed to me from the way you've gone on, that you cared less for either of us than for father's old coat." Jessie gave the hand that lay limply in her's an ecstatic little squeeze. "Our money, Leslie, is all in a little bag that is pinned in the lining of this old coat; it's here now, all safe." I could only gasp, as she had done before me, with a difference of names, "Oh, Jessie!"