"
"What impresses me most about Alleghany," said Brown, "is the vast
number of tin cans on the city dump. It makes a man hungry for the grub
his mother used to cook."
"You're right there," said Keeler, and lapsed into silence.
They were at Moore's Flat presently, where they changed to the
four-horse stage-coach; and the little detective's attention was
absorbed by the actions of Mat Bailey, who seemed strangely quiet. A
guilty conscience, perhaps?
Several people were going down to Nevada City. So Keeler and Brown did
not resume their conversation, but journeyed on, each absorbed in his
own thoughts. To Keeler the trip was a sad one. In the dark woods along
Bloody Run, and as they passed the tall rock by the roadside beyond, he
thought of robbers and his murdered partner. At the store in North
Bloomfield he could hardly resist the impulse to insult the cowardly
store-keeper who had stood by and allowed Cummins to be shot. As they
dove down into the canon of the South Yuba, he groaned to think of the
murders for gold committed therein. Could not a protecting Providence
have saved his friend? Was it the decree of fate that one who had
manfully defended the right for twenty-five years in that lawless
country should be cut off just when he was quitting it forever? Perhaps,
he thought, this very hour his partner was being laid at rest in his
"ain countree.
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