“My name is Tom Thatcher, and I live at Rocky Gulch.”
“Ha! I am going there. We will go together.”
“I shall be glad of your company,” said Tom, politely.
On the way the stranger introduced himself as Robert Percival, a banker, from San Francisco.
“I have some interests at Rocky Gulch,” he said. “I feel an affection for the spot, for here I laid the foundation of my fortune. Feeling the need of a little rest from business cares, I have come out here from the city. By Jove! I came near getting a permanent vacation. If you hadn’t come to my help, I can’t undertake to say that I should ever have been able to return to any business in the city.”
Toward the close of the afternoon Tom and his new friend reached Rocky Gulch.
CHAPTER XLII.
A STARTLING DISCLOSURE.
AS THERE was no hotel, nor even tavern, at Rocky Gulch, the banker, Percival, gladly accepted Tom’s invitation to pass the night at the cabin occupied jointly by himself and his two friends.
“But what will your friends say?” asked Percival.