CHAPTER

  1. [Introduces "The Apache Kid" with whom Later I become Acquainted]
  2. [Mr. Laughlin Tells the Story up to Date]
  3. [Mr. Laughlin's Prophecy is Fulfilled]
  4. [I Take my Life in my Hands]
  5. [I Agree to "Keep the Peace" in a New Sense]
  6. [Farewell to Baker City]
  7. [The Man with the Red Head]
  8. [What Befell at the Half-Way House]
  9. [First Blood]
  10. [In the Enemy's Camp]
  11. [How it was Dark in the Sunlight]
  12. [I am Held as a Hostage]
  13. [In which Apache Kid Behaves in his Wonted Way]
  14. [Apache Kid Prophesies]
  15. [In which the Tables are Turned—at Some Cost]
  16. [Sounds in the Forest]
  17. [The Coming of Mike Canlan]
  18. [The Lost Cabin is Found]
  19. [Canlan Hears Voices]
  20. [Compensation]
  21. [Re-enter—The Sheriff of Baker City]
  22. [The Mud-Slide]
  23. [The Sheriff Changes his Opinion]
  24. [For Fear of Judge Lynch]
  25. [The Making of a Public Hero]
  26. [Apache Kid Makes a Speech]
  27. [The Beginning of the End]
  28. [Apache Kid Behaves Strangely at the Half-Way House to Kettle]
  29. [So-Long]
  30. [And Last]

The Lost Cabin Mine

CHAPTER I

Introduces "The Apache Kid" with Whom Later
I Become Acquainted

he Lost Cabin Mine, as a name, is familiar to many. But the true story of that mine there is no man who knows. Of that I am positive—because "dead men tell no tales."

It was on the sixth day of June, 1900, that I first heard the unfinished story of the Lost Cabin, the first half of the story I may call it, for the story is all finished now, and in the second half I was destined to play a part. Of the date I am certain because I verified it only the other day when I came by accident upon a pile of letters, tied with red silk ribbon and bearing a tag "Letters from Francis." These were the letters I sent to my mother during my Odyssey and one of them, bearing the date of the day succeeding that I have named, contained an account, toned down very considerably, as I had thought necessary for her sensitive and retired heart, of the previous day's doings, with an outline of the strange tale heard that day. That nothing was mentioned in the epistle of the doings of that night, you will be scarcely astonished when you read of them.

I was sitting alone on the rear verandah of the Laughlin Hotel, Baker City, watching the cicadi hopping about on the sun-scorched flats, now and again raising my eyes to the great, confronting mountain, the lower trees of which seemed as though trembling, seen through the heat haze; while away above, the white wedge of the glacier, near the summit, glistened dry and clear like salt in the midst of the high blue rocks.

The landlord, a thin, quick-moving man with a furtive air, a straggling apology for a moustache, and tiny eyes that seemed ever on the alert, came shuffling out to the verandah, hanging up there, to a hook in the projecting roof, a parrot's cage which he carried.