we live and move and have our
being,' is a good Power. Well, then, God is good. And that's all we need
to know. If God is good, we can depend upon Him in life and death. We
don't know what death means. But it's only a natural thing. It can't
matter much. I will know more about it, I guess, when I am dead."

"I don't doubt you're right, Mr. Palmer. Once, back in Maryland, I heard
a minister say that grief comes to open our hearts to God. It was at my
mother's funeral. I reckon he was right, too. But my heart bleeds for
Will Cummins."

Palmer looked at him critically a moment, as if weighing him in the
balance. Then, as if completely satisfied with his friend, he spoke:

"John Keeler, I want to talk business. I want you to hunt those rascals
down. I'll back you for any amount. I'm past sixty, or I might attend to
the business myself. You're still a young man. I'll see that Mrs. Keeler
and the boy lack for nothing while you are gone. And I don't expect you
to take any risks. I simply want you to get the facts, then turn them
over to the authorities. Will you do it?"

Keeler hesitated. "There's very little to go on. The robbers have
cleared out, and nobody knows who they were or where they went."

"Don't you believe it," said Palmer. "If decent people don't know, there
are the other kind."

"I reckon you and I would be about as helpless as babes with 'the other
kind.' We've always despised them and kept away from them."

"But they're human, like the rest of us. You and I understand human
nature pretty well. We won't breathe a word to any one. You tell Mrs.
Keeler you're attending to important business for me, that I'm
grub-staking you, and that there's something in it for you and the
family. If the neighbors get wind of it, they'll think, perhaps, you are
attending to money matters for me. They seem to be mighty curious about
my money."

"Well, I might do it, if I only knew how to go about it."

"Well, Keeler, I think I can give you a start. And while we eat some
dinner I'll tell you a story that will surprise you."

These Californians were certainly two of a kind; but then, two of a
kind, though both be kings, is not a strong hand.

CHAPTER VII

An Old Sweetheart

When his guest had been abundantly supplied with the best the larder
afforded, not forgetting condensed milk for the coffee, Palmer began his
story.

"Since you were here last, Keeler," he began, "I've been to San
Francisco. Nothing rem