ct it o' thet viper, lad? No, he's an enemy to
the death. But whar did yer come from, and have yer found out anything
about yer poor father?"

Dick's story was soon told, to which Rasco listened with much interest.

"I don't believe a boomer would rob yer father," said he, reflectively.
"Like as not it war somebody who followed yer from New York--some man as
knew the value of them air minin' deeds."

"Well, I'll go back to camp and make a search, anyway, Rasco. But what
brought you here?"

"I'm lookin' fer my niece, Nellie Winthrop."

And Rasco told of the letter received and of how Nellie was missing and
no trace of her could be found anywhere. Dick was almost as much
disturbed as Rasco, for he still carried in his mind a picture of the
beautiful girl he had saved from Juan Donomez's insults.

"Can the Mexican have waylaid her?" he asked.

"Perhaps," said the man of the plains. "But I've hunted the city high
and low."

A short while after the two found themselves in the town once more.
Nellie had put up at the Commercial Hotel, and to this hostelry they
made their way and entered the office.

"No news of the young lady," said the clerk in charge, who had been
interviewed before. "I am quite certain she started for the boomers'
camp on horseback."

Rasco heaved a sigh.

"Might as well go back," he said to Dick, then as he saw the boy start
he continued: "What's up? Do yer see anything of her?"

"No, Rasco. But look at that man, the fellow sitting down by the corner
table in the reading room, he with the brown hat."

"I see him. What of him?"

"He's from New York--a fellow who used to come sneaking around father's
office, trying to gather information about mining shares."

"Gee shoo, Dick! Yer don't mean it!" Jack Rasco was all attention
instantly. "Maybe he's the rascal as knocked yer dad over?"

"Perhaps. If I--There is a man joining him."

"I've seen thet chap afore. 'Pears ter me he works fer the government."

"Do you know his name?"

"No. Wot's the other fellow's handle?"

"Dike Powell. He is known as a Wall street sharper. I wish I could hear
what the two have to say to each other. Yet I don't want Dike Powell to
see me."

"It's easy enough, lad. Thar's a window close to the table, an' it's
open. We'll walk out on the veranda, and get under the opening. Come."

In a second more they were outside. Tiptoeing their way across the
veranda, which was deserted, they soon found themselves close