“What’s the matter?” asked Charley.
“Look!” exclaimed Dick, pointing to the name written on the line above where he was about to write his own.
The name, written in a bold, firm hand, was Martin Mudd.
CHAPTER III.
ABOUT THE STRANGE HEAD THAT CAME OVER THE ROCKS.
“Strange!” whispered Charley, as Dick signed the register. “There could hardly be two with such a name.”
Dick had told Charley all about his adventure, of course.
“I don’t see how it can be the same man,” he said, “but we’ll soon find out. Do you know that gentleman?” he asked the clerk, pointing to the name.
“Yes, I know him,” was the reply. “He came in by the westbound train this morning. He used to live here. Why do you ask?”
“Because I met him in Washington only a few days ago. Is he in the hotel now?”
“No,” replied the clerk. “He bought a horse and went off up into the mountains. He’s a mining prospector. If you should happen to meet him I advise you strongly to give him the cold shoulder. He’s a bad lot.”