Then it occurred to him that his new acquaintance might possibly
have encountered Dewey in his wanderings. At any rate, it would do
no harm to inquire.
"Did you ever meet a man named Dewey at the mines?" he asked.
"Friend of yours?"
"No; I never saw him, but I have promised to hunt him up. I have
some important news for him."
"Dewey!" mused the miner. "Somehow that name sounds familiar like.
Can you tell what he was like?"
"I never saw him, but I can get a description of him."
"I'm sure I've met a man by that name," said the miner thoughtfully,
"but I can't rightly locate him. I have it," he added suddenly. "It
was at Murphy's, over in Calaveras, that I came across him. A quiet,
stiddy young man-looked as if he'd come from a city-not rough like
the rest of us-might have been twenty-seven or twenty-eight years
old-didn't drink any more'n you do, but kept to work and minded his
own business."
"That must be the man I am after," said Ben eagerly. "Do you think
he is at Murphy's now?"
"How can I tell? It's most a year sence I met him. Likely he's gone.
Miners don't stay as long as that in one place."
Ben's countenance fell. He did not seem as near to the object of his
journey as he at first thought.
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