like Jo."

"Thanks for your assurances, Al," Lucy said cuttingly.

"Well, well, well! Scrap all night about nothing! Forget it! Shut
up! Guess who I saw to-day as I was driving over the desert."

"Who?" sullenly.

"Your dear old uncle."

"My uncle!"

"Sure--that's what you called him. Basil Filer, the crazy prospector."

"Sure enough, Al?" Lucy's tones were brighter.

"Pretty much so. Didn't seem to recognize me at all. I was at
Comstock's camp, and he rambled in with his burros. Stood within five
feet of me and looked right at me. Never saw me before!" and Drummond
chuckled.

"Al, where on earth do you suppose he's been since you took him out on
the desert and dumped him?"

"Heaven knows! Wandering about looking for a prospect, I suppose. I'd
have given fifty dollars to be hidden close by when he came out of it
next morning."

"Poor old duffer! But suppose Hooker and Jo or some of that bunch
should stumble onto him, Al! Was he making this way?"

"Yes; but he was fifty miles up the lines. There were two or three
women about Comstock's commissary tent--two of Comstock's daughters and
the wife of his walking-boss. The old bird kept looking at them and
shaking his head, just like he did with you. He's still hunting for
his pardner's daughter. He's a crazy nut, and I guess wherever he goes
he's trying to get on her trail."

"Don't you suppose he remembers me, Al? We sure had him going that
night. I was Jean Prince to him, all right. And when you inked me up,
and he got a look--say, he couldn't tell his story fast enough, could
he?"

Drummond chuckled reminiscently. "Yes, next minute he'd have had you
scalped, kid, if I hadn't slipped him another powder. Well, if he does
drift back here you've simply got to lie low and keep out of his sight.
I'll tell the boys to keep their eyes open and slip me the dope if they
see him rambling into Ragtown. Then you fade away till he beats it out
again."

"Won't he ask about me? And try to find out where I've gone?"

"I doubt it. He's still got his precious paper. If, we'd stolen that,
instead of copying it, there might be the very devil to pay. But as
long as he's still got it he's too nutty to suspect. Of course,
though, nobody can tell what's going on in the other fellow's noodle.
I'd say, though, that if you aren't here he'll think the whole business
was a pipe dream."

"I hope so. We don't want any further complications. Now when a