his
costume being of the finest cloth and of the very latest cut: boots
patent leathers, and hat glossy as a mirror; diamonds gleamed and
sparkled on his immaculate shirt-bosom, on his fingers and from the
seal of a heavy gold chain across his vest front.

The other personage was a counterpart of the first to every
particular, save that while one was more than a semi-centenarian to
years, the other was barely twenty. The same faultless elegance in
dress, the same elaborate display of jewels, and the same haughty,
aristocratic bearing produced in one was mirrored to the other.

They were father and son.

"Confound such a road!" growled the younger man, as the stage bounced
him about like a rubber ball. "For my part I wish I had remained at
home, instead of coming out into this outlandish region. It is
perfectly awful."

"Y-y-y-e-s!" chattered the elder between the jolts and jerks--"it is
not what it should be, that's true. But have patience; ere long we
will reach our destination, and--"

"Get shot like poor Vansevere did!" sneered the other. "I tell you,
governor, this is a desperate game you are playing."

The old man smiled, grimly.

"Desperate or not, we must carry it through to the end. Vansevere was
not the right kind of a man to set after the young scamp."

"How do you mean?"

"He was too rash--entirely too rash. Deadwood Dick is a daring whelp,
and Vansevere's open offer of a reward for his apprehension only put
the young tiger on his guard, and he will be more wary and watchful in
the future."

This in a positive tone.

"Yes; he will be harder to trap than a fox who has lost a foot between
jaws of steel. He will be revengeful, too!"

"Bah! I fear him not, old as I am. He is but a boy in years, you
remember, and will be easily managed."

"I hope so; I don't want my brains blown out, at least."

The stage rumbled on; the Jehu cursed and lashed his horses; the
canyon grew deeper, narrower and darker, the grade slightly
descending.

The moon seemed resting on the summit of a peak, hundreds of feet
above, and staring down in surprise at the noisy stage.

Alexander Filmore (the elder passenger) succeeded in steadying himself
long enough to ignite the end of a cigar to the bowl of Jehu's grimy
pipe; then he watched the trees that flitted by. Clarence, his son,
had smoked incessantly since leaving Camp Crook, and now threw away
his half-used cheroot, and listened to the sighing of the spectral
pi