He's somewhere in California--if he ain't dead." "He isn't dead." "How do you know ?" "Because I am Henry Guest, of Dentville, and"-- he stopped, and, shading his eyes with his hand as he deliberately examined the tramp, added coldly--"your father, I reckon." There was a slight pause.

The young man put down the boot he had taken up.

"Then I'm to stay here ?" "Certainly not.

Here my name is only West, and I have no son.

You'll go on to San Jose, and stay there until I look into this thing.