ak English
as well as you or I."

"Did you have some conversation with him?"

"Yes. He looked familiar to me, and I asked him who he was. He said he had
come from Missouri. He was in search of work."

"You say he understood and spoke English?"

"Yes."

"Then I wonder what could be his game."

"Don't he look familiar to you?"

"Yes; there was something familiar about his appearance, but I couldn't
place him."

"He asked me if I couldn't employ him in the store. I told him Mr. Ames
might give him a chance at mining."

"Well?"

"He said he would look round a little before deciding."

"Did he buy anything?"

"Yes, tobacco."

"Did you mention my name?"

"Yes, and he looked uneasy."

"Ernest," said Luke Robbins, with a sudden inspiration, "I know the man."

"Who is it?"

"Don't you recall any man at Oak Forks with whom you had trouble?"

"Tom Burns?"

"Yes. That's the man."

"Why didn't we recognize him then?"

"Because he has grown a full beard."

"That's so, Luke. I understand now why he looked so familiar. I am sorry
to see him here."

"He'd better not undertake any of his rascalities or he will find himself
in hot water."

CHAPTER XXIX

TOM BURNS MAKES A CALL

When Burns left the store he walked to the outskirts of the mining
settlement, not wishing to attract attention. He wished especially to
avoid encountering Luke Robbins, with the strength of whose arm he was
disagreeably familiar.

He proposed to keep out of sight until night, and then make a visit to the
store. It would go hard with him if he did not make a raise there, either
in the shape of money or articles of value.

He came to a cabin standing by itself, at a considerable distance from the
homes of the other miners. Sitting in front of it was a man with grizzled
beard whose appearance indicated advanced age. There were lines upon his
face that betrayed ill health.

"I wonder if anything can be got out of him," thought Tom Burns. "I'll
see."

"Good-day, sir," he said, affably.

The old man looked up.

"Good-day," he replied. "Who may you be?"

"I'm an unfortunate man, in search of employment."

"When people are unfortunate there is generally a reason for it. Are you
intemperate?"

"No, sir," answered Burns, as if horror-stricken. "I hate the taste of
liquor."

"I am glad to hear it."

"I belong to three temperance societies," continued Tom, by way of
deepening the favorable impression he thought he