old friend Burns."

"Perhaps he won't call."

"If he knows what's best for himself he won't, but he will be like the
foolish moth, and won't be contented till he has singed his wings. I will
look about me and see where to bestow myself for the night."

Ernest occupied a bed in the rear of the store, just behind one of the
counters. It was near a window in the rear of the building.

"I'll take that bed, Ernest, and you can find another place."

"Shall I fasten the window?"

"No. I am going to make it easy for my friend Burns to get in. Whether
he will find it as easy to get out will be another matter."

Nothing was said to the miners about the presence of a thief in the
settlement. At that time there was no toleration for thieves. The
punishment visited upon them was short, sharp, and decisive. The judge
most in favor was Judge Lynch, and woe be to the offender who ventured
to interfere with the rights of property.

Had Luke breathed a word about Burns, half a dozen miners would have
volunteered to stand guard, and would thus have interfered with Tom
Burns' visit.

"I want to keep all the fun to myself, Ernest," said Luke. "We'll give
him a lesson he won't soon forget. If I told the boys, they'd hang him
up in short order. I don't want to take the fellow's life, but I'll
give him a first-class scare."

It was about ten minutes of twelve when Tom Burns, leaving his place
of concealment, walked with eager steps towards the mining settlement.
The one street was not illuminated, for Oreville had not got along as
far as that. The moon gave an indistinct light, relieving the night of
a part of its gloom.

Burns looked from one cabin to another with a wistful glance.

"I suppose some of these miners have got a lot of gold dust hidden
away in their shanties," he said to himself. "I wish I knew where I
could light on some of their treasure. If I only knew which cabin to
choose!"

But then it occurred to him that every miner was probably armed, and
would make it dangerous to any intruder.

So Tom Burns kept on his way. He was troubled by no conscientious
scruples. He had got beyond that long ago. Sometimes it did occur to
him to wonder how it would seem to settle down as a man of
respectability and influence, taking a prominent part in the affairs
of town and church.

"It might have been," he muttered. "My father was a man of that sort.
Why not I? If I hadn't gone wrong in my early days, if I had not been
temp