"I remember."

"No man knew him better than I did in the fort, for we were boon comrades for over a year, and I knew his features perfectly, as well as other marks of identification."

"Yes."

"The sergeant had one mark that he was sensitive about, and kept hidden from all, though I saw it several times."

"What was it?"

"He had a peculiar way of dressing his hair, with a curl hanging over his forehead."

"I remember it."

"Beneath that curl, sir, was a birthmark."

"Ah!"

"It was a red cross an inch in length, and perfect in shape."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, and I saw that same mark on a man's forehead a few days before the date you say that Sergeant Weston, if it was he, was buried in the caved-in mine."

"Ah! and where did you see it?"

"I had gone to Wingate by coach, sir, to collect some money due me from several soldiers there, and in the sutler's store I saw a man whose face I was sure I had seen before.

"He wore his hair and beard long, and seemed to stoop badly, or was round-shouldered, but the form otherwise was the same, so were the eyes and shape of the head, and he had a round gold filling the size of a pin's head in one of the front teeth.

"Reading a letter that seemed to impress him, he took off his hat and pushed his hair back, and I saw the red cross on his forehead. I went up to see him as though to attract his attention, but he looked at me as though he had never seen me before, yet his face flushed and paled as he looked.

"Now, Mr. Cody, that man was Sergeant Weston, and I'll swear to it, but I would not tell any other man than you, for if he escaped death no one is more glad of it than I, unless----"

"Unless what, Harding?"

"Unless, a poor man, and a hunted one, he turned road-agent and was the man who held up the coach, killing Dave Dockery."

"No, Harding, I can hardly believe that of him, and then, too, the coach was just held up, and this man, with his pard, perished in the cave-in of their mine."

"You are sure?"

"I cannot see reason to doubt it, but now that you tell me what you do, the man who saved me from the gang of Headlight Joe, and then went on his way, recalled a face I could not place, and now I am sure that it was Sergeant Weston; but he too had round shoulders, while the sergeant did not have, and yet he was then on his way to Wingate, and it was upon his return that I followed his trail."

"Well, sir, if it was in my power to capture Sergeant Weston, never would I lay hand upon him, and I believe you feel the same way, unless it was your orders to do so. Still, somehow, the thought came to me that, a fugitive, and friendless, he might have turned outlaw."

"I do not think so, and I am sure now that, if it was Weston who came to my aid, and whom you saw, he perished in the mine; but now let us go over what I wish you to do, and my plan to run down these road-agents, who I am sure are from Last Chance Claim and nowhere else," said Buffalo Bill.

CHAPTER X.

DOCTOR d.i.c.k'S DRIVE.

A pall seemed to have fallen over Last Chance, in the death of Dave Dockery, and its life began to flag in gloom. Seeing this, and fearing that the hold-up of the coach might injure the mines, Landlord Larry decided to get up a scheme to attract outsiders to the mines, and so the rumor went out of a large find of gold in one of the canons near the town.

A couple of miners only were put there to work it, and the claim was known as the Doctor d.i.c.k Mine, as the gold king at once bought from the landlord a half-interest in it.

This news stirred the miners to increased exertions in their own mines, and also caused prospectors to go out on the search for new "finds."

The wounded pa.s.senger continued to steadily improve bodily, under the skill and kind care of Doctor d.i.c.k, but his mind was a wreck, and no one believed that he would ever regain his reason.

Doctor d.i.c.k hinted at an operation some day that might relieve the pressure upon the brain, yet spoke of it also as an experiment and a dangerous one, only to be tried as a last resort.

The man was as docile as a child, gave no trouble, and simply sat about whittling sticks into the shape of a revolver.

At last the week pa.s.sed by, when the stage was to start again upon its run eastward.

A number of miners had volunteered as an escort, but Doctor d.i.c.k said he would drive on the run out and come back as a pa.s.senger; and he did not expect trouble, so would not accept an armed escort.

The night before the stage was to start, Harding, the courier to Fort Faraway, returned. He brought with him a letter from Buffalo Bill to Doctor d.i.c.k, and another for Landlord Larry, stating that the troops at the fort were pressed just then with extra duty, as the Indians were in an angry mood, and for them to do what they could for the protection of the coaches until Major Randall could investigate and patrol the trail.

Harding had little to say of his visit to the fort, more than to hint that the soldiers were too much occupied just then with their own affairs to care much for the killing of a stage-driver and couple of pa.s.sengers.

As no Government funds had been taken by the outlaws, the miners would have to look to their own protection, for a while at least.

The courier also stated that there were stories at the fort of secret finds of gold in and about Last Chance, and he would give up his intention, expressed some time before, of selling out his mining interests, and instead, stick to hard work, in the hope of striking it rich in the end.

The next morning the coach was to start, and as it was to go out at an early hour many of the miners decided to remain up all night gambling in order to see it leave; for it would be the Sabbath day, when they could rest.

Doctor d.i.c.k had been too busy of late with his patient and other matters to devote much time to gambling, and so he also decided to make a night of it at the gambling-tables.

When the dawn came many regretted that he had done so, for never had he played more recklessly, and never before had he been such a large winner, for luck seemed to go his way from the start.

Play what game he might he was a winner, and going from table to table he "broke the combination," as one of the miners expressed it.

The dawn was at hand when he went to his cabin for a bath, and in half an hour he came back to the hotel for breakfast, looking little like a man who had pa.s.sed the night over a gambling-table.

He was dressed in his best, was well armed, and coming out from a hearty breakfast lighted a cigar, and mounted to the stage-box at a single bound, an act that gained for him a cheer upon his agility.

"All ready, Landlord Larry," he called out as he gathered up the reins, and the answer was:

"No pa.s.sengers, mails aboard, go!"

Doctor d.i.c.k gathered up the reins in a way that showed him a master of the art of driving.

He looked very dashing and handsome, as he sat on the box, his long hair falling upon his shoulders and his face showing no dread of what he might have to encounter upon his run.