e in Lucy's cabin, with a coal-oil lamp
on it, a deck of cards suggestively in evidence, and a bottle of
precious brandy and glasses. Lucy had brought from San Francisco her
leopard-skin rug, the overstuffed chairs, and her other extravagances
in house furnishings. Their contrast with the new pine walls of the
cabin produced an effect quite startling and bizarre. Basil Filer saw
none of it, however. He became very drowsy when he was seated. Al
Drummond winked at Lucy.

The girl shook her head, and presently, seeing that the prospector was
almost asleep, leaned toward her fellow conspirator and whispered:

"Don't hurry about getting his roll. Try to liven him up and get him
to talking. I'm curious. He's got something on his mind that may make
that buckskin bag look like thirty cents."

"Get the jack," ordered Al. "To-morrow he won't even remember he ever
saw us. You're letting your story-telling instinct warp your judgment,
Lucy. You're looking for mysteries. I'll get that roll right now."

"No, leave it, Al, please! You can get it later, if I'm wrong. But I
just feel that this old fella's got something locked up in his breast.
Rouse him and leave him to me. I'll make him talk. I'm sorry you
doped him. You may have spoiled everything."

At this instant she looked up to see the bleary old eyes fixed on her
intently.

"Feeling better, Uncle?" she asked lightly. "I've got some
bromo-seltzer. I'll give you a shot; it will liven you up. Don't want
to go down and out so early in the evening, old sport!"

"Desert girl, huh?" thickly muttered Basil Filer. "Huh--I know
somethin' 'bout you. You was found on the desert, wasn't ye--when
you's li'l' girl--baby girl? I know. Can't fool o' Filer. B'en
huntin' you f'r years." He closed his eyes again, and his head sank
forward on his breast.

Lucy shook him awake and prepared a dose of bromo-seltzer, which he
readily drank at her command.

"How did you know about me, Uncle?" she asked. "What you said is the
truth. I was found on the desert here when I was a baby girl. But how
did you know? Tell me all about it. Do you know my father's name?"

"Sure! Sure! Name was Len-Len-Len-Leonard Prince. You're Jean
Prince. Len Prince was m' ol' pardner. I'm lookin'--lookin' for the
claim Len Prince and me and The Chink found--and lost ag'in. Rich!
Yellow with gol'. You're Jean Prince--I know. I c'n prove it by your
head. Tha's what I wanta see--ye