“I suppose,” said Corporal Richardson with a sly twinkle in his eye, “that when the ghost of Scar-Face or Henderson or Baptiste La Lond comes back here to visit you, he won’t recognize your thriving mining town as the place of his former misfortunes.”
“You bet he won’t!” emphatically declared Sandy.
Dick laughed—a cheery, boyish laugh—as he picked up a frying pan and a slab of bacon, opened his hunting knife and then squatted down in front of the fire.
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes
- Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.
- Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.
- Replaced the otherwise unknown Sandy MacPherson by Sandy MacClaren.
- Added a Table of Contents based on chapter headings.
- In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)