"Me! Why—er—not at all," stammered the man. "What makes you think that?" he added and gave Mark a sharp look, as if to read his very thoughts.
"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Mark. "Are you stopping here?"
"Yes, for a few days."
"And after that?"
"I don't know where I will go. But see here, boy——"
"I may see you again," said Mark, and walked away, before Morgan Fitzsimmons could ask him any more questions.
Mark's heart was beating rapidly. He recognized the man fully as the individual who had come away from his step-father's office on that fateful day when the safe had been robbed of three hundred dollars.
"He looks just slick enough to be the robber," thought Mark. "But how am I going to prove it out here and at this time?"
He thought the matter over carefully, and some time later tied his mule to a tree and went again in search of Morgan Fitzsimmons. He found that individual in another drinking place, playing cards with two innocent-looking miners.
"Another five dollars gone," he heard one of the miners say. "I am in hard luck to-day."