"Waal, no. I own a little stock, though," answered Sam, carelessly.

"In what mine?"

"In the Nip-and-tuck."

"Good mine, from all I hear about it. Never did any prospecting?" asked
the stranger, in that tone which denotes only a desire to make talk,
with a view to kill time.

"No," in the same tone.

"That's odd," stuffing a handful of cut tobacco into his mouth. "I'd
have sworn 'twas you I saw swinging a pick in the canon east of camp
last night."

"I'm not much on picks," Sam returned, with a slowness that well
counterfeited indifference. "I was visiting a lady last evening, which is
a kind of prospecting more in my line."

"Yes, I understand; that lady inside the coach. She's a game one."

"It strikes me you're devilish free in your remarks," said Sam, becoming
irritated again.

"No offense meant, I'm sure. Take a cigar? We may as well talk this
matter over calmly, Mr. Rice. You see it's ten to one that you are
implicated in this business. Been very attentive to Mrs. Page. Made
several trips together. Let her handle your horses, so she could take
them out of the stable for them thieves. Buried her thieving, gambling
husband for her. You see the case _looks_ bad, anyway; though I'm
inclined to think you've just been made a tool of. I know she's a smart
one. Tain't often you find one smarter."

Sam's eyes scintillated. He was strangely minded to pitch the outside
passenger off the coach. The struggle in his breast between conviction
and resistance to conviction amounted to agony. He could not, in that
supreme moment, discriminate between the anger he felt at being falsely
accused, and the grief and rage of being so horrible disillusioned.
Their combined anguish paled his cheeks, and set his teeth on edge: of
all of which the outside passenger was coolly cognizant. As they were,
at that moment, in sight of the first station, he resumed.

"Let her get up here, if she wants to; I can ride inside. I don't want
to be hard on her; but mind, if you breathe a word to her about my being
an officer, I'll arrest you on suspicion. Let every tub stand on its own
bottom. If she's guilty, you can't help her, and don't want to, either;
if she's innocent, she'll come out all right, never fear. Are you on the
square, now?"

"Have you got a warrant?" asked Sam, in a low tone, as he wound the
lines around the break, previous to getting down.

"You bet! but I'm in no hurry to serve it. Piney-woods station 'ill do
just a