y vanished, when a light scratching was heard on the
door.

A Mexican opened it, and saw Nappy Boney, with extended hand and bottle.

"It is the _eau-de-vie_ of _la belle France_," he whispered. "Tenderly
I have cherished, but it is at the lady's service."

Chagres Charley, Lynn Taps and Bracelets were composing their nerves
with pipes about the fire they had surrounded early in the morning. Lynn
Taps had just declared his disbelief of a soul inside of the Mexican
frame, when the door was thrown open and an excited Mexican appeared.

"Her tongue come back!" he cried. "She say she come over mountain--she
bring little boy--she no eat, it was long time. Soon she must die, boy
must die. What she do? She put round boy her cloak, an' leave him by
rock, an' hurry to tell. Maybe coyote get him. What can do?"

"What can we do?" echoed Lynn Taps; "turn out every galoot in camp, and
foller her tracks till we find it. Souls or no souls, don't make no
diff'rence. I'll tramp my legs off, 'fore that child shall be left out
in the snow in them mountains."

Within five minutes every man in camp had been aroused.

Each man swore frightfully at being prematurely turned out--each man
hated the Greasers with all his heart and soul and strength; but each
man, as he learned what was the matter, made all possible haste, and
fluently cursed all who were slower than himself.

In fact, two or three irrepressible spirits, consuming with delay,
started alone on independent lines of search.

Chagres Charley appeared promptly, and assumed command.

"Boys," said he, "we'll sprinkle out into a line a couple of miles long,
and march up the mountain till we reach the snow. When I think it's
time, I'll fire three times, an' then each feller'll face an' tramp to
the right, keepin' a keerful lookout for a woman's tracks p'intin'
t'ward camp. Ther can't be no mistakin' 'em, for them sennyritas hez the
littlest kind o' feet. When any feller finds her tracks, he'll fire, an'
then we'll rally on him. I wish them other fellers, instid of goin' off
half-cocked, hed tracked Codago, the low-lived skunk. To think of him
runnin' away from wife, an' young one, too! Forward, git!"

"They _hain't_ got no souls--that's what made him do it, Charley," said
Lynn Taps, as the men deployed.

Steadily the miners ascended the rugged slope; rocks, trees, fallen
trunks and treacherous holes impeded their progress, but did not stop
them.

A steady wind cut them to t