"Glad to see you, Francis. What news from Moore's Flat?"
Francis looked grave. "I suppose Keeler has told you all I know. Seven
days gone and nothing heard of the robbers. I shall expect a telegram
to-morrow or next day, telling of Will Cummins' burial in the village
cemetery at home. And his old father and mother are going to be denied
the small comfort of knowing that the murderers have been caught.
"Keeler, you were Cummins' partner once. Do you have any idea who the
robbers were?"
"I am sorry to say, I don't. This country is full of bad men. I have
thought of the blacklegs along Kanaka Creek. A robbery in Jackass Ravine
was traced to that gang. But the rascals stand together, and are ready
to defend a partner with alibis or pistols."
If Keeler felt constrained to withhold information about his intended
visit to San Francisco in the capacity of detective, Francis on his part
saw no reason to state that he had just employed Bed-bug Brown in a
similar capacity. For in descending the canon of the Middle Yuba, he had
gone a mile out of his way up the river to the cabin of this worthy
gentleman, and finding him at home had promptly engaged his services.
Pages:
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71