ised at Elam's statement that his outfit had been
broken up by thieves, we were a good deal more surprised to learn that
the youth at his side had got into "trouble" in Mississippi. After
hitching their horse where he could graze we went into the cabin with
them, and gathered about them with the idea of hearing an exciting
story; for although I had been in the far West nearly all my life, I had
not got over my fondness for a story yet.

"Howdy, Elam?" said Uncle Ezra, removing his pipe from his mouth with
one hand and extending the other. "You got into trouble, I hear, all on
account of your furs. How did it happen? And you, too, Tommy." You will
remember that the door of the cabin was open, and that Uncle Ezra heard
every word of our conversation. "You didn't steer clear of all trouble
by coming out here, did you? Well, never mind. Troubles will come to
everybody, no matter what they do. Sit down and tell me all about it.
Haven't had any breakfast, have you?"

Elam declared that they had had enough left for breakfast, and produced
his pipe and got ready for a smoke, while Tom sat by with his gaze
fastened on the fire. I will tell both stories together, for Elam did
not touch upon Tom's tale of sorrow at all. But, in the first place, you
remember something about Tom Mason, don't you? You recall that he got
Jerry Lamar into serious trouble by stealing a grip-sack that belonged
to his uncle, General Mason, which contained five thousand dollars, that
Jerry was arrested and put into prison on account of it, and that the
only thing that turned Tom Mason in favor of the boys who were working
to help him was the fact that Luke Redman was going to take the money
across the river into Texas. Mark Coleman came near getting the money,
when his skiff was stranded at Dead Man's Elbow, but had to go away
without it; and from that time the history of the five thousand begins.
Tom Mason fell in with Joe Coleman, who was Mark's twin brother, and he
told him everything he had done; and when the last moment arrived, when
the horns of the settlers announced that they were fast closing in upon
the robbers, he told Joe to take charge of the money and dived into a
canebrake and disappeared. No one would have thought of prosecuting Tom
Mason if he had stayed there, but that was not the thing. He had been
guilty, he had never done such a thing before, and he couldn't bear to
stand up in that community and have people point at him and whisper: