OPENINGS IN THE OLD TRAIL

by Bret Harte

CONTENTS

 OPENINGS IN THE OLD TRAIL

 I. A MERCURY OF THE FOOT-HILLS II. COLONEL STARBOTTLE FOR THE PLAINTIFF III. THE LANDLORD OF THE BIG FLUME HOTEL IV. A BUCKEYE HOLLOW INHERITANCE V. THE REINCARNATION OF SMITH VI. LANTY FOSTER'S MISTAKE VII. AN ALI BABA OF THE SIERRAS VIII. MISS PEGGY'S PROTEGES IX. THE GODDESS OF EXCELSIOR

OPENINGS IN THE OLD TRAIL

by Bret Harte

A MERCURY OF THE FOOT-HILLS

It was high hot noon on the Casket Ridge. Its very scant shade wasrestricted to a few dwarf Scotch firs, and was so perpendicularly castthat Leonidas Boone, seeking shelter from the heat, was obliged to drawhimself up under one of them, as if it were an umbrella. Occasionally, with a boy's perversity, he permitted one bared foot to protrude beyondthe sharply marked shadow until the burning sun forced him to draw it inagain with a thrill of satisfaction. There was no earthly reason whyhe had not sought the larger shadows of the pine-trees which rearedthemselves against the Ridge on the slope below him, except that he wasa boy, and perhaps even more superstitious and opinionated than mostboys. Having got under this tree with infinite care, he had made up hismind that he would not move from it until its line of shade reached andtouched a certain stone on the trail near him! WHY he did this he didnot know, but he clung to his sublime purpose with the courage andtenacity of a youthful Casabianca. He was cramped, tickled by dust andfir sprays; he was supremely uncomfortable--but he stayed! A woodpeckerwas monotonously tapping in an adjacent pine, with measured intervals ofsilence, which he always firmly believed was a certain telegraphy ofthe bird's own making; a green-and-gold lizard flashed by his footto stiffen itself suddenly with a rigidity equal to his own. Still HEstirred not. The shadow gradually crept nearer the mystic stone--andtouched it. He sprang up, shook himself, and prepared to go abouthis business. This was simply an errand to the post-office at thecross-roads, scarcely a mile from his father's house. He was alreadyhalfway there. He had taken only the better part of one hour for thisdesultory journey!

However, he now proceeded on his way, diverging only to follow a freshrabbit-track a few hundred yards, to note that the animal had doubledtwice against the wind, and then, naturally, he was obliged to lookclosely for other tracks to determine its pursuers. He paused also, but only for a moment, to rap thrice on the trunk of the pine where thewoodpecker was at work, which he knew would make it cease work fora time--as it did. Having thus renewed his relations with nature, hediscovered that one of the letters he was taking to the post-office hadslipped in some mysterious way from the bosom of his shirt, where hecarried them, past his waist-band into his trouser-leg, and was about tomake a casual delivery of itself on the trail. This caused him to takeout his letters and count them, when he found one missing. He had beengiven four letters to post--he had only three. There was a big one inhis father's handwriting, two indistinctive ones of his mother's, and asmaller one of his sister's--THAT was gone! Not at all disconcerted, he calmly retraced his steps, following his own tracks minutely, witha grim face and a distinct delight in the process, whilelooking--perfunctorily--for the letter. In the midst of this slowprogress a bright idea struck him. He walked back to the fir-tree wherehe had rested, and found the lost missive. It had slipped out of hisshirt when he shook himself. He was not particularly pleased. He knewthat nobody would give him credit for his trouble in going back forit, or his astuteness in guessing where it was. He heaved the sigh ofmisunderstood genius, and again started for the post-office. This timehe carried the letters openly and ostentatiously in his hand. 

Presently he heard a voice say, "Hey!" It was a gentle, musicalvoice, --a stranger's voice, for it evidently did not know how to callhim, and did not say, "Oh, Leonidas!" or "You--look here!" He wasabreast of a little clearing, guarded by a low stockade of bark palings, and beyond it was a small white dwelling-house. Leonidas knew the placeperfectly well. It belonged to the superintendent of a mining tunnel, who had lately rented it to some strangers from San Francisco. Thus muchhe had heard from his family. He had a mountain boy's contempt for cityfolks, and was not himself interested in them. Yet as he heard thecall, he was conscious of a slightly guilty feeling. He might have beentrespassing in following the rabbit's track; he might have been seen bysome one when he lost the letter and had to go back for it--all grown-uppeople had a way of offering themselves as witnesses against him! Hescowled a little as he glanced around him. Then his eye fell on thecaller on the other side of the stockade. 

To his surprise it was a woman: a pretty, gentle, fragile creature, allsoft muslin and laces, with her fingers interlocked, and leaning bothelbows on the top of the stockade as she stood under the checkeredshadow of a buckeye. 

"Come here--please--won't you?" she said pleasantly. 

It would have been impossible to resist her voice if Leonidas had wantedto, which he didn't. He walked confidently up to the fence. She reallywas very pretty, with eyes like his setter's, and as caressing. Andthere were little puckers and satiny creases around her delicatenostrils and mouth when she spoke, which Leonidas knew were"expression. "

"I--I"--she began, with charming hesitation; then suddenly, "What's yourname?"

"Leonidas. "

"Leonidas! That's a pretty name!" He thought it DID sound pretty. "Well, Leonidas, I want you to be a good boy and do a great favor for me, --avery great favor. "

Leonidas's face fell. This kind of prelude and formula was familiar tohim. It was usually followed by, "Promise me that you will never swearagain, " or, "that you will go straight home and wash your face, " or someother irrelevant personality. But nobody with that sort of eyes had eversaid it. So he said, a little shyly but sincerely, "Yes, ma'am. "

"You are going to the post-office?"

This seemed a very foolish, womanish question, seeing that he washolding letters in his hand; but he said, "Yes. "

"I want you to put a letter of mine among yours and post them alltogether, " she said, putting one little hand to her bosom and drawingout a letter. He noticed that she purposely held the addressed side sothat he could not see it, but he also noticed that her hand wassmall, thin, and white, even to a faint tint of blue in it, unlikehis sister's, the baby's, or any other hand he had ever seen. "Can youread?" she said suddenly, withdrawing the letter. 

The boy flushed slightly at the question. "Of course I can, " he saidproudly. 

"Of course, certainly, " she repeated quickly; "but, " she added, witha mischievous smile, "you mustn't NOW! Promise me! Promise me that youwon't read this address, but just post the letter, like one of your own, in the letter-box with the others. "

Leonidas promised readily; it seemed to him a great fuss about nothing;perhaps it was some kind of game or a bet. He opened his sunburnt hand, holding his own letters, and she slipped hers, face downward, betweenthem. Her soft fingers touched his in the operation, and seemed to leavea pleasant warmth behind them. 

"Promise me another thing, " she added; "promise me you won't say a wordof this to any one. "

"Of course!" said Leonidas. 

"That's a good boy, and I know you will keep your word. " She hesitateda moment, smilingly and tentatively, and then held out a brighthalf-dollar. Leonidas backed from the fence. "I'd rather not, " he saidshyly. 

"But as a present from ME?"

Leonidas colored--he was really proud; and he was also bright enough tounderstand that the possession of such unbounded wealth would provokedangerous inquiry at home. But he didn't like to say it, and onlyreplied, "I can't. "

She looked at him curiously. "Then--thank you, " she said, offering herwhite hand, which felt like a bird in his. "Now run on, and don't letme keep you any longer. " She drew back from the fence as she spoke, andwaved him a pretty farewell. Leonidas, half sorry, half relieved, dartedaway. 

He ran to the post-office, which he never had done before. Loyally henever looked at her letter, nor, indeed, at his own again, swingingthe hand that held them far from his side. He entered the post-officedirectly, going at once to the letter-box and depositing the preciousmissive with the others. The post-office was also the "country store, "and Leonidas was in the habit of still further protracting his errandsthere by lingering in that stimulating atmosphere of sugar, cheese, andcoffee. But to-day his stay was brief, so transitory that the postmasterhimself inferred audibly that "old man Boone must have been tanning Leewith a hickory switch. " But the simple reason was that Leonidas wishedto go back to the stockade fence and the fair stranger, if haply shewas still there. His heart sank as, breathless with unwonted haste, hereached the clearing and the empty buckeye shade. He walked slowly andwith sad diffidence by the deserted stockade fence. But presently hisquick eye discerned a glint of white among the laurels near the house. It was SHE, walking with apparent indifference away from him towards thecorner of the clearing and the road. But this he knew would bring herto the end of the stockade fence, where he must pass--and it did. Sheturned to him with a bright smile of affected surprise. "Why, you're asswift-footed as Mercury!"

Leonidas understood her perfectly. Mercury was the other name forquicksilver--and that was lively, you bet! He had often spilt some onthe floor to see it move. She must be awfully cute to have noticed ittoo--cuter than his sisters. He was quite breathless with pleasure. 

"I put your letter in the box all right, " he burst out at last. 

"Without any one seeing it?" she asked. 

"Sure pop! nary one! The postmaster stuck out his hand to grab it, but Ijust let on that I didn't see him, and shoved it in myself. "

"You're as sharp as you're good, " she said smilingly. "Now, there's justONE thing more I want you to do. Forget all about this--won't you?"

Her voice was very caressing. Perhaps that was why he said boldly: "Yes, ma'am, all except YOU. "

"Dear me, what a compliment! How old are you?"

"Goin' on fifteen, " said Leonidas confidently. 

"And going very fast, " said the lady mischievously. "Well, then, youneedn't forget ME. On the contrary, " she added, after looking at himcuriously, "I would rather you'd remember me. Good-by--or, rather, good-afternoon--if I'm to be remembered, Leon. "

"Good-afternoon, ma'am. "

She moved away, and presently disappeared among the laurels. But herlast words were ringing in his ears. "Leon"--everybody else called him"Lee" for brevity; "Leon"--it was pretty as she said it. 

He turned away. But it so chanced that their parting was not to passunnoticed, for, looking up the hill, Leonidas perceived his elder sisterand little brother coming down the road, and knew that they must haveseen him from the hilltop. It was like their "snoopin'"!

They ran to him eagerly. 

"You were talking to the stranger, " said his sister breathlessly. 

"She spoke to me first, " said Leonidas, on the defensive. 

"What did she say?"

"Wanted to know the eleckshun news, " said Leonidas with cool mendacity, "and I told her. "

This improbable fiction nevertheless satisfied them. "What was she like?Oh, do tell us, Lee!" continued his sister. 

Nothing would have delighted him more than to expatiate upon herloveliness, the soft white beauty of her hands, the "cunning" littlepuckers around her lips, her bright tender eyes, the angelic textureof her robes, and the musical tinkle of her voice. But Leonidas had noconfidant, and what healthy boy ever trusted his sister in such matter!"YOU saw what she was like, " he said, with evasive bluntness. 

"But, Lee"--

But Lee was adamant. "Go and ask her, " he said. 

"Like as not you were sassy to her, and she shut you up, " said hissister artfully. But even this cruel suggestion, which he could have soeasily flouted, did not draw him, and his ingenious relations flounceddisgustedly away. 

But Leonidas was not spared any further allusion to the fair stranger;for the fact of her having spoken to him was duly reported at home, andat dinner his reticence was again sorely attacked. "Just like her, inspite of all her airs and graces, to hang out along the fence like anyordinary hired girl, jabberin' with anybody that went along the road, "said his mother incisively. He knew that she didn't like her newneighbors, so this did not surprise nor greatly pain him. Neither didthe prosaic facts that were now first made plain to him. His divinitywas a Mrs. Burroughs, whose husband was conducting a series of miningoperations, and prospecting with a gang of men on the Casket Ridge. As his duty required his continual presence there, Mrs. Burroughs wasforced to forego the civilized pleasures of San Francisco for a frontierlife, for which she was ill fitted, and in which she had no interest. All this was a vague irrelevance to Leonidas, who knew her only as agoddess in white who had been familiar to him, and kind, and to whom hewas tied by the delicious joy of having a secret in common, and havingdone her a special favor. Healthy youth clings to its own impressions, let reason, experience, and even facts argue ever to the contrary. 

So he kept her secret and his intact, and was rewarded a few daysafterwards by a distant view of her walking in the garden, with a manwhom he recognized as her husband. It is needless to say that, withoutany extraneous thought, the man suffered in Leonidas's estimation by hispropinquity to the goddess, and that he deemed him vastly inferior. 

It was a still greater reward to his fidelity that she seized anopportunity when her husband's head was turned to wave her hand to him. Leonidas did not approach the fence, partly through shyness and partlythrough a more subtle instinct that this man was not in the secret. Hewas right, for only the next day, as he passed to the post-office, shecalled him to the fence. 

"Did you see me wave my hand to you yesterday?" she asked pleasantly. 

"Yes, ma'am; but"--he hesitated--"I didn't come up, for I didn't thinkyou wanted me when any one else was there. "

She laughed merrily, and lifting his straw hat from his head, ran thefingers of the other hand through his damp curls. "You're the brightest, dearest boy I ever knew, Leon, " she said, dropping her pretty face tothe level of his own, "and I ought to have remembered it. But Idon't mind telling you I was dreadfully frightened lest you mightmisunderstand me and come and ask for another letter--before HIM. " Asshe emphasized the personal pronoun, her whole face seemed to change:the light of her blue eyes became mere glittering points, her nostrilsgrew white and contracted, and her pretty little mouth seemed to narrowinto a straight cruel line, like a cat's. "Not a word ever to HIM, of all men! Do you hear?" she said almost brusquely. Then, seeing theconcern in the boy's face, she laughed, and added explanatorily: "He's abad, bad man, Leon, remember that. "

The fact that she was speaking of her husband did not shock the boy'smoral sense in the least. The sacredness of those relations, and even ofblood kinship, is, I fear, not always so clear to the youthful mind aswe fondly imagine. That Mr. Burroughs was a bad man to have excitedthis change in this lovely woman was Leonidas's only conclusion. Heremembered how his sister's soft, pretty little kitten, purring on herlap, used to get its back up and spit at the postmaster's yellow hound. 

"I never wished to come unless you called me first, " he said frankly. 

"What?" she said, in her half playful, half reproachful, but whollycaressing way. "You mean to say you would never come to see me unless Isent for you? Oh, Leon! and you'd abandon me in that way?"

But Leonidas was set in his own boyish superstition. "I'd just delightin being sent for by you any time, Mrs. Burroughs, and you kin alwaysfind me, " he said shyly, but doggedly; "but"--He stopped. 

"What an opinionated young gentleman! Well, I see I must do all thecourting. So consider that I sent for you this morning. I've got anotherletter for you to mail. " She put her hand to her breast, and out of thepretty frillings of her frock produced, as before, with the same faintperfume of violets, a letter like the first. But it was unsealed. "Now, listen, Leon; we are going to be great friends--you and I. " Leonidasfelt his cheeks glowing. "You are going to do me another great favor, and we are going to have a little fun and a great secret all by our ownselves. Now, first, have you any correspondent--you know--any one whowrites to you--any boy or girl--from San Francisco?"

Leonidas's cheeks grew redder--alas! from a less happy consciousness. Henever received any letters; nobody ever wrote to him. He was obliged tomake this shameful admission. 

Mrs. Burroughs looked thoughtful. "But you have some friend in SanFrancisco--some one who MIGHT write to you?" she suggested pleasantly. 

"I knew a boy once who went to San Francisco, " said Leonidas doubtfully. "At least, he allowed he was goin' there. "

"That will do, " said Mrs. Burroughs. "I suppose your parents know him orof him?"

"Why, " said Leonidas, "he used to live here. "

"Better still. For, you see, it wouldn't be strange if he DID write. What was the gentleman's name?"

"Jim Belcher, " returned Leonidas hesitatingly, by no means sure that theabsent Belcher knew how to write. Mrs. Burroughs took a tiny pencil fromher belt, opened the letter she was holding in her hand, and apparentlywrote the name in it. Then she folded it and sealed it, smilingcharmingly at Leonidas's puzzled face. 

"Now, Leon, listen; for here is the favor I am asking. Mr. JimBelcher"--she pronounced the name with great gravity--"will write to youin a few days. But inside of YOUR letter will be a little note to me, which you will bring me. You can show your letter to your family, ifthey want to know who it is from; but no one must see MINE. Can youmanage that?"

"Yes, " said Leonidas. Then, as the whole idea flashed upon his quickintelligence, he smiled until he showed his dimples. Mrs. Burroughsleaned forward over the fence, lifted his torn straw hat, and droppeda fluttering little kiss on his forehead. It seemed to the boy, flushedand rosy as a maid, as if she had left a shining star there for everyone to see. 

"Don't smile like that, Leon, you're positively irresistible! It will bea nice little game, won't it? Nobody in it but you and me--and Belcher!We'll outwit them yet. And, you see, you'll be obliged to come to me, after all, without my asking. "

They both laughed; indeed, quite a dimpled, bright-eyed, rosy, innocentpair, though I think Leonidas was the more maidenly. 

"And, " added Leonidas, with breathless eagerness, "I can sometimes writeto--to--Jim, and inclose your letter. "

"Angel of wisdom! certainly. Well, now, let's see--have you got anyletters for the post to-day?" He colored again, for in anticipation ofmeeting her he had hurried up the family post that morning. He held outhis letters: she thrust her own among them. "Now, " she said, laying hercool, soft hand against his hot cheek, "run along, dear; you must not beseen loitering here. "

Leonidas ran off, buoyed up on ambient air. It seemed just like afairy-book. Here he was, the confidant of the most beautiful creature hehad seen, and there was a mysterious letter coming to him--Leonidas--andno one to know why. And now he had a "call" to see her often; she wouldnot forget him--he needn't loiter by the fencepost to see if she wantedhim--and his boyish pride and shyness were appeased. There was noquestion of moral ethics raised in Leonidas's mind; he knew that itwould not be the real Jim Belcher who would write to him, but that madethe prospect the more attractive. Nor did another circumstance troublehis conscience. When he reached the post-office, he was surprised to seethe man whom he knew to be Mr. Burroughs talking with the postmaster. Leonidas brushed by him and deposited his letters in the box indiscreet triumph. The postmaster was evidently officially resenting someimputation on his carelessness, and, concluding his defense, "No, sir, "he said, "you kin bet your boots that ef any letter hez gone astray foryou or your wife--Ye said your wife, didn't ye?"

"Yes, " said Burroughs hastily, with a glance around the shop. 

"Well, for you or anybody at your house--it ain't here that's the fault. You hear me! I know every letter that comes in and goes outer thisoffice, I reckon, and handle 'em all, "--Leonidas pricked up hisears, --"and if anybody oughter know, it's me. Ye kin paste that in yourhat, Mr. Burroughs. " Burroughs, apparently disconcerted by the intrusionof a third party--Leonidas--upon what was evidently a private inquiry, murmured something surlily, and passed out. 

Leonidas was puzzled. That big man seemed to be "snoopin'" around forsomething! He knew that he dared not touch the letter-bag, --Leonidas hadheard somewhere that it was a deadly crime to touch any letters afterthe Government had got hold of them once, and he had no fears for thesafety of hers. But ought he not go back at once and tell her abouther husband's visit, and the alarming fact that the postmaster waspersonally acquainted with all the letters? He instantly saw, too, thewisdom of her inclosing her letter hereafter in another address. Yet hefinally resolved not to tell her to-day, --it would look like "hanginground" again; and--another secret reason--he was afraid that anyallusion to her husband's interference would bring back that changein her beautiful face which he did not like. The better to resisttemptation, he went back another way. 

It must not be supposed that, while Leonidas indulged in this secretpassion for the beautiful stranger, it was to the exclusion of hisboyish habits. It merely took the place of his intellectual visions andhis romantic reading. He no longer carried books in his pocket on hislazy rambles. What were mediaeval legends of high-born ladies and theirpages to this real romance of himself and Mrs. Burroughs? What were theexploits of boy captains and juvenile trappers and the Indian maidensand Spanish senoritas to what was now possible to himself and hisdivinity here--upon Casket Ridge! The very ground around her was nowconsecrated to romance and adventure. Consequently, he visited afew traps on his way back which he had set for "jackass-rabbits" andwildcats, --the latter a vindictive reprisal for aggression upon anorphan brood of mountain quail which he had taken under his protection. For, while he nourished a keen love of sport, it was controlled by aboy's larger understanding of nature: a pantheistic sympathy withman and beast and plant, which made him keenly alive to the strangecruelties of creation, revealed to him some queer animal feuds, and madehim a chivalrous partisan of the weaker. He had even gone out of his wayto defend, by ingenious contrivances of his own, the hoard of a goldensquirrel and the treasures of some wild bees from a predatory bear, although it did not prevent him later from capturing the squirrel by anequally ingenious contrivance, and from eventually eating some of thehoney. 

He was late home that evening. But this was "vacation, "--the districtschool was closed, and but for the household "chores, " which occupiedhis early mornings, each long summer day was a holiday. So two or threepassed; and then one morning, on his going to the post-office, thepostmaster threw down upon the counter a real and rather bulky letter, duly stamped, and addressed to Mr. Leonidas Boone! Leonidas was toodiscreet to open it before witnesses, but in the solitude of thetrail home broke the seal. It contained another letter with noaddress--clearly the one SHE expected--and, more marvelous still, asheaf of trout-hooks, with delicate gut-snells such as Leonidas hadonly dared to dream of. The letter to himself was written in a clear, distinct hand, and ran as follows:--

DEAR LEE, --How are you getting on on old Casket Ridge? It seems a coon'sage since you and me was together, and times I get to think I must justrun up and see you! We're having bully times in 'Frisco, you bet! thoughthere ain't anything wild worth shucks to go to see--'cept the sealions at the Cliff House. They're just stunning--big as a grizzly, andbigger--climbing over a big rock or swimming in the sea like an otter ormuskrat. I'm sending you some snells and hooks, such as you can't get atCasket. Use the fine ones for pot-holes and the bigger ones for runningwater or falls. Let me know when you've got 'em. Write to Lock Box No. 1290. That's where dad's letters come. So no more at present. 

From yours truly, JIM BELCHER. 

Not only did Leonidas know that this was not from the real Jim, but hefelt the vague contact of a new, charming, and original personalitythat fascinated him. Of course, it was only natural that one of HERfriends--as he must be--should be equally delightful. There was nojealousy in Leonidas's devotion; he knew only a joy in this fellowshipof admiration for her which he was satisfied that the other boy mustfeel. And only the right kind of boy could know the importance ofhis ravishing gift, and this Jim was evidently "no slouch"! Yet, inLeonidas's new joy he did not forget HER! He ran back to the stockadefence and lounged upon the road in view of the house, but she did notappear. 

Leonidas lingered on the top of the hill, ostentatiously examining ayoung hickory for a green switch, but to no effect. Then it suddenlyoccurred to him that she might be staying in purposely, and, perhapsa little piqued by her indifference, he ran off. There was a mountainstream hard by, now dwindled in the summer drouth to a mere tricklingthread among the boulders, and there was a certain "pot-hole" that hehad long known. It was the lurking-place of a phenomenal trout, --analmost historic fish in the district, which had long resisted theattempt of such rude sportsmen as miners, or even experts like himself. Few had seen it, except as a vague, shadowy bulk in the four feet ofdepth and gloom in which it hid; only once had Leonidas's quick eyefeasted on its fair proportions. On that memorable occasion Leonidas, having exhausted every kind of lure of painted fly and living bait, was rising from his knees behind the bank, when a pink five-cent stampdislodged from his pocket fluttered in the air, and descended slowlyupon the still pool. Horrified at his loss, Leonidas leaned over torecover it, when there was a flash like lightning in the black depths, adozen changes of light and shadow on the surface, a little whirling wavesplashing against the side of the rock, and the postage stamp was gone. More than that--for one instant the trout remained visible, stationaryand expectant! Whether it was the instinct of sport, or whether the fishhad detected a new, subtle, and original flavor in the gum and paper, Leonidas never knew. Alas! he had not another stamp; he was obliged toleave the fish, but carried a brilliant idea away with him. Ever sincethen he had cherished it--and another extra stamp in his pocket. Andnow, with this strong but gossamer-like snell, this new hook, and thisfreshly cut hickory rod, he would make the trial!

But fate was against him! He had scarcely descended the narrow trail tothe pine-fringed margin of the stream before his quick ear detected anunusual rustling through the adjacent underbrush, and then a voice thatstartled him! It was HERS! In an instant all thought of sport had fled. With a beating heart, half opened lips, and uplifted lashes, Leonidasawaited the coming of his divinity like a timorous virgin at her firsttryst. 

But Mrs. Burroughs was clearly not in an equally responsive mood. Withher fair face reddened by the sun, the damp tendrils of her unwound hairclinging to her forehead, and her smart little slippers red with dust, there was also a querulous light in her eyes, and a still more querulouspinch in her nostrils, as she stood panting before him. 

"You tiresome boy!" she gasped, holding one little hand to her side asshe gripped her brambled skirt around her ankles with the other. "Whydidn't you wait? Why did you make me run all this distance after you?"

Leonidas timidly and poignantly protested. He had waited before thehouse and on the hill; he thought she didn't want him. 

"Couldn't you see that THAT MAN kept me in?" she went on peevishly. "Haven't you sense enough to know that he suspects something, andfollows me everywhere, dogging my footsteps every time the post comesin, and even going to the post-office himself, to make sure that he seesall my letters? Well, " she added impatiently, "have you anything for me?Why don't you speak?"

Crushed and remorseful, Leonidas produced her letter. She almostsnatched it from his hand, opened it, read a few lines, and her facechanged. A smile strayed from her eyes to her lips, and back again. Leonidas's heart was lifted; she was so forgiving and so beautiful!

"Is he a boy, Mrs. Burroughs?" asked Leonidas shyly. 

"Well--not exactly, " she said, her charming face all radiant again. "He's older than you. What has he written to you?"

Leonidas put his letter in her hand for reply. 

"I wish I could see him, you know, " he said shyly. "That letter'sbully--it's just rats! I like him pow'ful. "

Mrs. Burroughs had skimmed through the letter, but not interestedly. 

"You mustn't like him more than you like me, " she said laughingly, caressing him with her voice and eyes, and even her straying hand. 

"I couldn't do that! I never could like anybody as I like you, " said. Leonidas gravely. There was such appalling truthfulness in the boy'svoice and frankly opened eyes that the woman could not evade it, andwas slightly disconcerted. But she presently started up with a vexatiouscry. "There's that wretch following me again, I do believe, " she said, staring at the hilltop. "Yes! Look, Leon, he's turning to come down thistrail. What's to be done? He mustn't see me here!"

Leonidas looked. It was indeed Mr. Burroughs; but he was evidentlyonly taking a short cut towards the Ridge, where his men were working. Leonidas had seen him take it before. But it was the principal trail onthe steep hillside, and they must eventually meet. A man might evadeit by scrambling through the brush to a lower and rougher trail; but awoman, never! But an idea had seized Leonidas. "I can stop him, " he saidconfidently to her. "You just lie low here behind that rock till I comeback. He hasn't seen you yet. "

She had barely time to draw back before Leonidas darted down the trailtowards her husband. Yet, in her intense curiosity, she leaned outthe next moment to watch him. He paused at last, not far from theapproaching figure, and seemed to kneel down on the trail. What was hedoing? Her husband was still slowly advancing. Suddenly he stopped. Atthe same moment she heard their two voices in excited parley, and then, to her amazement, she saw her husband scramble hurriedly down the trailto the lower level, and with an occasional backward glance, hasten awayuntil he had passed beyond her view. 

She could scarcely realize her narrow escape when Leonidas stood by herside. "How did you do it?" she said eagerly. 

"With a rattler!" said the boy gravely. 

"With a what?"

"A rattlesnake--pizen snake, you know. "

"A rattlesnake?" she said, staring at Leonidas with a quick snatchingaway of her skirts. 

The boy, who seemed to have forgotten her in his other abstraction ofadventure, now turned quickly, with devoted eyes and a reassuring smile. 

"Yes; but I wouldn't let him hurt you, " he said gently. 

"But what did you DO?"

He looked at her curiously. "You won't be frightened if I show you?" hesaid doubtfully. "There's nothin' to be afeerd of s'long as you're withme, " he added proudly. 

"Yes--that is"--she stammered, and then, her curiosity getting thebetter of her fear, she added in a whisper: "Show me quick!"

He led the way up the narrow trail until he stopped where he had kneltbefore. It was a narrow, sunny ledge of rock, scarcely wide enough fora single person to pass. He silently pointed to a cleft in the rock, andkneeling down again, began to whistle in a soft, fluttering way. Therewas a moment of suspense, and then she was conscious of an awful glidingsomething, --a movement so measured yet so exquisitely graceful that shestood enthralled. A narrow, flattened, expressionless head was followedby a footlong strip of yellow-barred scales; then there was a pause, andthe head turned, in a beautifully symmetrical half-circle, towards thewhistler. The whistling ceased; the snake, with half its body out of thecleft, remained poised in air as if stiffened to stone. 

"There, " said Leonidas quietly, "that's what Mr. Burroughs saw, andthat's WHY he scooted off the trail. I just called out William Henry, --Icall him William Henry, and he knows his name, --and then I sang out toMr. Burroughs what was up; and it was lucky I did, for the next momenthe'd have been on top of him and have been struck, for rattlers don'tgive way to any one. "

"Oh, why didn't you let"--She stopped herself quickly, but could notstop the fierce glint in her eye nor the sharp curve in her nostril. Luckily, Leonidas did not see this, being preoccupied with his othergraceful charmer, William Henry. 

"But how did you know it was here?" said Mrs. Burroughs, recoveringherself. 

"Fetched him here, " said Leonidas briefly. 

"What in your hands?" she said, drawing back. 

"No! made him follow! I HAVE handled him, but it was after I'd firstmade him strike his pizen out upon a stick. Ye know, after he strikesfour times he ain't got any pizen left. Then ye kin do anythin' withhim, and he knows it. He knows me, you bet! I've bin three monthstrainin' him. Look! Don't be frightened, " he said, as Mrs. Burroughsdrew hurriedly back; "see him mind me. Now scoot home, William Henry. "

He accompanied the command with a slow, dominant movement of the hickoryrod he was carrying. The snake dropped its head, and slid noiselesslyout of the cleft across the trail and down the hill. 

"Thinks my rod is witch-hazel, which rattlers can't abide, " continuedLeonidas, dropping into a boy's breathless abbreviated speech. "Livesdown your way--just back of your farm. Show ye some day. Suns himself ona flat stone every day--always cold--never can get warm. Eh?"

She had not spoken, but was gazing into space with a breathless rigidityof attitude and a fixed look in her eye, not unlike the motionless orbsof the reptile that had glided away. 

"Does anybody else know you keep him?" she asked. 

"Nary one. I never showed him to anybody but you, " replied the boy. 

"Don't! You must show me where he hides to-morrow, " she said, in her oldlaughing way. "And now, Leon, I must go back to the house. "

"May I write to him--to Jim Belcher, Mrs. Burroughs?" said the boytimidly. 

"Certainly. And come to me to-morrow with your letter--I will have mineready. Good-by. " She stopped and glanced at the trail. "And you say thatif that man had kept on, the snake would have bitten him?"

"Sure pop!--if he'd trod on him--as he was sure to. The snake wouldn'thave known he didn't mean it. It's only natural, " continued Leonidas, with glowing partisanship for the gentle and absent William Henry. "YOUwouldn't like to be trodden upon, Mrs. Burroughs!"

"No! I'd strike out!" she said quickly. She made a rapid motion forwardwith her low forehead and level head, leaving it rigid the next moment, so that it reminded him of the snake, and he laughed. At which shelaughed too, and tripped away. 

Leonidas went back and caught his trout. But even this triumph did notremove a vague sense of disappointment which had come over him. He hadoften pictured to himself a Heaven-sent meeting with her in the woods, a walk with her, alone, where he could pick her the rarest flowers andherbs and show her his woodland friends; and it had only ended in this, and an exhibition of William Henry! He ought to have saved HER fromsomething, and not her husband. Yet he had no ill-feeling for Burroughs, only a desire to circumvent him, on behalf of the unprotected, as hewould have baffled a hawk or a wildcat. He went home in dismal spirits, but later that evening constructed a boyish letter of thanks to theapocryphal Belcher and told him all about--the trout!

He brought her his letter the next day, and received hers to inclose. She was pleasant, her own charming self again, but she seemed moreinterested in other things than himself, as, for instance, the docileWilliam Henry, whose hiding-place he showed, and whose few tricks shemade him exhibit to her, and which the gratified Leonidas accepted as adelicate form of flattery to himself. But his yearning, innocent spiritdetected a something lacking, which he was too proud to admit even tohimself. It was his own fault; he ought to have waited for her, and notgone for the trout!

So a fortnight passed with an interchange of the vicarious letters, andbrief, hopeful, and disappointing meetings to Leonidas. To add to hisunhappiness, he was obliged to listen to sneering disparagement of hisgoddess from his family, and criticisms which, happily, his innocencedid not comprehend. It was his own mother who accused her of shamefully"making up" to the good-looking expressman at church last Sunday, anddeclared that Burroughs ought to "look after that wife of his, "--twostatements which the simple Leonidas could not reconcile. He had seenthe incident, and only thought her more lovely than ever. Why should notthe expressman think so too? And yet the boy was not happy; somethingintruded upon his sports, upon his books, making them dull and vapid, and yet that something was she! He grew pale and preoccupied. If he hadonly some one in whom to confide--some one who could explain his hopesand fears. That one was nearer than he thought!

It was quite three weeks since the rattlesnake incident, and he waswandering moodily over Casket Ridge. He was near the Casket, that abruptupheaval of quartz and gneiss, shaped like a coffer, from which themountain took its name. It was a favorite haunt of Leonidas, one ofwhose boyish superstitions was that it contained a treasure of gold, andone of whose brightest dreams had been that he should yet discover it. This he did not do to-day, but looking up from the rocks that he waslistlessly examining, he made the almost as thrilling discovery thatnear him on the trail was a distinguished-looking stranger. 

He was bestriding a shapely mustang, which well became his handsomeface and slight, elegant figure, and he was looking at Leonidas withan amused curiosity and a certain easy assurance that were difficult towithstand. It was with the same fascinating self-confidence of smile, voice, and manner that he rode up to the boy, and leaning lightly overhis saddle, said with exaggerated politeness: "I believe I have thepleasure of addressing Mr. Leonidas Boone?"

The rising color in Leonidas's face was apparently a sufficientanswer to the stranger, for he continued smilingly, "Then permit me tointroduce myself as Mr. James Belcher. As you perceive, I have grownconsiderably since you last saw me. In fact, I've done nothing else. It's surprising what a fellow can do when he sets his mind on one thing. And then, you know, they're always telling you that San Francisco is a'growing place. ' That accounts for it!"

Leonidas, dazed, dazzled, but delighted, showed all his white teeth in ashy laugh. At which the enchanting stranger leaped from his horse likea very boy, drew his arm through the rein, and going up to Leonidas, lifted the boy's straw hat from his head and ran his fingers through hiscurls. There was nothing original in that--everybody did that to him asa preliminary to conversation. But when this ingenuous fine gentlemanput his own Panama hat on Leonidas's head, and clapped Leonidas's tornstraw on his own, and, passing his arm through the boy's, began to walkon with him, Leonidas's simple heart went out to him at once. 

"And now, Leon, " said the delightful stranger, "let's you and me havea talk. There's a nice cool spot under these laurels; I'll stake outPepita, and we'll just lie off there and gab, and not care if schoolkeeps or not. "

"But you know you ain't really Jim Belcher, " said the boy shyly. 

"I'm as good a man as he is any day, whoever I am, " said the stranger, with humorous defiance, "and can lick him out of his boots, whoever HEis. That ought to satisfy you. But if you want my certificate, here'syour own letter, old man, " he said, producing Leonidas's last scrawlfrom his pocket. 

"And HERS?" said the boy cautiously. 

The stranger's face changed a little. "And HERS, " he repeated gravely, showing a little pink note which Leonidas recognized as one of Mrs. Burroughs's inclosures. The boy was silent until they reached thelaurels, where the stranger tethered his horse and then threw himselfin an easy attitude beneath the tree, with the back of his head upon hisclasped hands. Leonidas could see his curved brown mustaches and silkylashes that were almost as long, and thought him the handsomest man hehad ever beheld. 

"Well, Leon, " said the stranger, stretching himself out comfortably andpulling the boy down beside him, "how are things going on the Casket?All serene, eh?"

The inquiry so dismally recalled Leonidas's late feelings that his faceclouded, and he involuntarily sighed. The stranger instantly shifted hishead and gazed curiously at him. Then he took the boy's sunburnt hand inhis own, and held it a moment. "Well, go on, " he said. 

"Well, Mr. --Mr. --I can't go on--I won't!" said Leonidas, with a suddenfit of obstinacy. "I don't know what to call you. "

"Call me 'Jack'--'Jack Hamlin' when you're not in a hurry. Ever heard ofme before?" he added, suddenly turning his head towards Leonidas. 

The boy shook his head. "No. "

Mr. Jack Hamlin lifted his lashes in affected expostulation to theskies. "And this is Fame!" he murmured audibly. 

But this Leonidas did not comprehend. Nor could he understand why thestranger, who clearly must have come to see HER, should not ask abouther, should not rush to seek her, but should lie back there all thewhile so contentedly on the grass. HE wouldn't. He half resented it, andthen it occurred to him that this fine gentleman was like himself--shy. Who could help being so before such an angel? HE would help him on. 

And so, shyly at first, but bit by bit emboldened by a word or two fromJack, he began to talk of her--of her beauty--of her kindness--of hisown unworthiness--of what she had said and done--until, finding in thisgracious stranger the vent his pent-up feelings so long had sought, hesang then and there the little idyl of his boyish life. He told of hisdecline in her affections after his unpardonable sin in keeping herwaiting while he went for the trout, and added the miserable mistake ofthe rattlesnake episode. "For it was a mistake, Mr. Hamlin. I oughtn'tto have let a lady like that know anything about snakes--just because Ihappen to know them. "

"It WAS an awful slump, Lee, " said Hamlin gravely. "Get a woman anda snake together--and where are you? Think of Adam and Eve and theserpent, you know. "

"But it wasn't that way, " said the boy earnestly. "And I want to tellyou something else that's just makin' me sick, Mr. Hamlin. You know Itold you William Henry lives down at the bottom of Burroughs's garden, and how I showed Mrs. Burroughs his tricks! Well, only two days ago Iwas down there looking for him, and couldn't find him anywhere. There'sa sort of narrow trail from the garden to the hill, a short cut up tothe Ridge, instead o' going by their gate. It's just the trail any onewould take in a hurry, or if they didn't want to be seen from the road. Well! I was looking this way and that for William Henry, and whistlin'for him, when I slipped on to the trail. There, in the middle of it, wasan old bucket turned upside down--just the thing a man would kick awayor a woman lift up. Well, Mr. Hamlin, I kicked it away, and"--the boystopped, with rounded eyes and bated breath, and added--"I just had timeto give one jump and save myself! For under that pail, cramped down sohe couldn't get out, and just bilin' over with rage, and chockful ofpizen, was William Henry! If it had been anybody else less spry, they'dhave got bitten, --and that's just what the sneak who put it there knew. "

Mr. Hamlin uttered an exclamation under his breath, and rose to hisfeet. 

"What did you say?" asked the boy quickly. 

"Nothing, " said Mr. Hamlin. 

But it had sounded to Leonidas like an oath. 

Mr. Hamlin walked a few steps, as if stretching his limbs, and thensaid: "And you think Burroughs would have been bitten?"

"Why, no!" said Leonidas in astonished indignation; "of course not--notBURROUGHS. It would have been poor MRS. Burroughs. For, of course, HEset that trap for her--don't you see? Who else would do it?"

"Of course, of course! Certainly, " said Mr. Hamlin coolly. "Of course, as you say, HE set the trap--yes--you just hang on to that idea. "

But something in Mr. Hamlin's manner, and a peculiar look in his eye, did not satisfy Leonidas. "Are you going to see her now?" he saideagerly. "I can show you the house, and then run in and tell her you'reoutside in the laurels. "

"Not just yet, " said Mr. Hamlin, laying his hand on the boy's headafter having restored his own hat. "You see, I thought of giving her asurprise. A big surprise!" he added slowly. After a pause, he went on:"Did you tell her what you had seen?"

"Of course I did, " said Leonidas reproachfully. "Did you think I wasgoing to let her get bit? It might have killed her. "

"And it might not have been an unmixed pleasure for William Henry. Imean, " said Mr. Hamlin gravely, correcting himself, "YOU would neverhave forgiven him. But what did she say?"

The boy's face clouded. "She thanked me and said it was verythoughtful--and kind--though it might have been only an accident"--hestammered--"and then she said perhaps I was hanging round and comingthere a little too much lately, and that as Burroughs was very watchful, I'd better quit for two or three days. " The tears were rising to hiseyes, but by putting his two clenched fists into his pockets, he managedto hold them down. Perhaps Mr. Hamlin's soft hand on his head assistedhim. Mr. Hamlin took from his pocket a notebook, and tearing out a leaf, sat down again and began to write on his knee. After a pause, Leonidassaid, --

"Was you ever in love, Mr. Hamlin?"

"Never, " said Mr. Hamlin, quietly continuing to write. "But, now youspeak of it, it's a long-felt want in my nature that I intend to supplysome day. But not until I've made my pile. And don't YOU either. " Hecontinued writing, for it was this gentleman's peculiarity to talkwithout apparently the slightest concern whether anybody else spoke, whether he was listened to, or whether his remarks were at all relevantto the case. Yet he was always listened to for that reason. When he hadfinished writing, he folded up the paper, put it in an envelope, andaddressed it. 

"Shall I take it to her?" said Leonidas eagerly. 

"It's not for HER; it's for him--Mr. Burroughs, " said Mr. Hamlinquietly. 

The boy drew back. "To get him out of the way, " added Hamlinexplanatorily. "When he gets it, lightning wouldn't keep him here. Now, how to send it, " he said thoughtfully. 

"You might leave it at the post-office, " said Leonidas timidly. "Healways goes there to watch his wife's letters. "

For the first time in their interview Mr. Hamlin distinctly laughed. 

"Your head is level, Leo, and I'll do it. Now the best thing you can dois to follow Mrs. Burroughs's advice. Quit going to the house for a dayor two. " He walked towards his horse. The boy's face sank, but he keptup bravely. "And will I see you again?" he said wistfully. 

Mr. Hamlin lowered his face so near the boy's that Leonidas could seehimself in the brown depths of Mr. Hamlin's eyes. "I hope you will, "he said gravely. He mounted, shook the boy's hand, and rode away in thelengthening shadows. Then Leonidas walked sadly home. 

There was no need for him to keep his promise; for the next morning thefamily were stirred by the announcement that Mr. And Mrs. Burroughs hadleft Casket Ridge that night by the down stage for Sacramento, and thatthe house was closed. There were various rumors concerning the reason ofthis sudden departure, but only one was persistent, and borne out bythe postmaster. It was that Mr. Burroughs had received that afternoon ananonymous note that his wife was about to elope with the notorious SanFrancisco gambler, Jack Hamlin. 

But Leonidas Boone, albeit half understanding, kept his miserable secretwith a still hopeful and trustful heart. It grieved him a little thatWilliam Henry was found a few days later dead, with his head crushed. Yet it was not until years later, when he had made a successful"prospect" on Casket Ridge, that he met Mr. Hamlin in San Francisco, and knew how he had played the part of Mercury upon that "heaven-kissinghill. "

COLONEL STARBOTTLE FOR THE PLAINTIFF

It had been a day of triumph for Colonel Starbottle. First, for hispersonality, as it would have been difficult to separate the Colonel'sachievements from his individuality; second, for his oratoricalabilities as a sympathetic pleader; and third, for his functions as theleading legal counsel for the Eureka Ditch Company versus the State ofCalifornia. On his strictly legal performances in this issue I prefernot to speak; there were those who denied them, although the jury hadaccepted them in the face of the ruling of the half amused, half cynicalJudge himself. For an hour they had laughed with the Colonel, wept withhim, been stirred to personal indignation or patriotic exaltation byhis passionate and lofty periods, --what else could they do than give himtheir verdict? If it was alleged by some that the American eagle, ThomasJefferson, and the Resolutions of '98 had nothing whatever to do withthe contest of a ditch company over a doubtfully worded legislativedocument; that wholesale abuse of the State Attorney and his politicalmotives had not the slightest connection with the legal questionraised--it was, nevertheless, generally accepted that the losing partywould have been only too glad to have the Colonel on their side. AndColonel Starbottle knew this, as, perspiring, florid, and panting, herebuttoned the lower buttons of his blue frock-coat, which had becomeloosed in an oratorical spasm, and readjusted his old-fashioned, spotless shirt frill above it as he strutted from the court-room amidstthe handshakings and acclamations of his friends. 

And here an unprecedented thing occurred. The Colonel absolutelydeclined spirituous refreshment at the neighboring Palmetto Saloon, and declared his intention of proceeding directly to his office in theadjoining square. Nevertheless, the Colonel quitted the building alone, and apparently unarmed, except for his faithful gold-headed stick, which hung as usual from his forearm. The crowd gazed after him withundisguised admiration of this new evidence of his pluck. It wasremembered also that a mysterious note had been handed to him atthe conclusion of his speech, --evidently a challenge from the StateAttorney. It was quite plain that the Colonel--a practiced duelist--washastening home to answer it. 

But herein they were wrong. The note was in a female hand, and simplyrequested the Colonel to accord an interview with the writer at theColonel's office as soon as he left the court. But it was an engagementthat the Colonel--as devoted to the fair sex as he was to the"code"--was no less prompt in accepting. He flicked away the dust fromhis spotless white trousers and varnished boots with his handkerchief, and settled his black cravat under his Byron collar as he neared hisoffice. He was surprised, however, on opening the door of his privateoffice, to find his visitor already there; he was still more startled tofind her somewhat past middle age and plainly attired. But the Colonelwas brought up in a school of Southern politeness, already antique inthe republic, and his bow of courtesy belonged to the epoch of hisshirt frill and strapped trousers. No one could have detected hisdisappointment in his manner, albeit his sentences were shortand incomplete. But the Colonel's colloquial speech was apt to befragmentary incoherencies of his larger oratorical utterances. 

"A thousand pardons--for--er--having kept a lady waiting--er!But--er--congratulations of friends--and--er--courtesy due tothem--er--interfered with--though perhaps only heightened--byprocrastination--the pleasure of--ha!" And the Colonel completed hissentence with a gallant wave of his fat but white and well-kept hand. 

"Yes! I came to see you along o' that speech of yours. I was in court. When I heard you gettin' it off on that jury, I says to myself, 'That'sthe kind o' lawyer I want. A man that's flowery and convincin'! Just theman to take up our case. "

"Ah! It's a matter of business, I see, " said the Colonel, inwardlyrelieved, but externally careless. "And--er--may I ask the nature of thecase?"

"Well! it's a breach-o'-promise suit, " said the visitor calmly. 

If the Colonel had been surprised before, he was now really startled, and with an added horror that required all his politeness to conceal. Breach-of-promise cases were his peculiar aversion. He had always heldthem to be a kind of litigation which could have been obviated by theprompt killing of the masculine offender--in which case he would havegladly defended the killer. But a suit for damages, --DAMAGES!--with thereading of love-letters before a hilarious jury and court, was againstall his instincts. His chivalry was outraged; his sense of humor wassmall, and in the course of his career he had lost one or two importantcases through an unexpected development of this quality in a jury. 

The woman had evidently noticed his hesitation, but mistook its cause. "It ain't me--but my darter. "

The Colonel recovered his politeness. "Ah! I am relieved, my dear madam!I could hardly conceive a man ignorant enough to--er--er--throw awaysuch evident good fortune--or base enough to deceive the trustfulness ofwomanhood--matured and experienced only in the chivalry of our sex, ha!"

The woman smiled grimly. "Yes!--it's my darter, Zaidee Hooker--so yemight spare some of them pretty speeches for HER--before the jury. "

The Colonel winced slightly before this doubtful prospect, but smiled. "Ha! Yes!--certainly--the jury. But--er--my dear lady, need we go asfar as that? Can not this affair be settled--er--out of court? Couldnot this--er--individual--be admonished--told that he mustgive satisfaction--personal satisfaction--for his dastardlyconduct--to--er--near relative--or even valued personal friend?The--er--arrangements necessary for that purpose I myself wouldundertake. "

He was quite sincere; indeed, his small black eyes shone with that firewhich a pretty woman or an "affair of honor" could alone kindle. Thevisitor stared vacantly at him, and said slowly, "And what good is thatgoin' to do US?"

"Compel him to--er--perform his promise, " said the Colonel, leaning backin his chair. 

"Ketch him doin' it!" she exclaimed scornfully. "No--that ain't wotwe're after. We must make him PAY! Damages--and nothin' short o' THAT. "

The Colonel bit his lip. "I suppose, " he said gloomily, "you havedocumentary evidence--written promises and protestations--er--erlove-letters, in fact?"

"No--nary a letter! Ye see, that's jest it--and that's where YOU comein. You've got to convince that jury yourself. You've got to show whatit is--tell the whole story your own way. Lord! to a man like you that'snothin'. "

Startling as this admission might have been to any other lawyer, Starbottle was absolutely relieved by it. The absence of anymirth-provoking correspondence, and the appeal solely to his own powersof persuasion, actually struck his fancy. He lightly put aside thecompliment with a wave of his white hand. 

"Of course, " he said confidently, "there is strongly presumptive andcorroborative evidence? Perhaps you can give me--er--a brief outline ofthe affair?"

"Zaidee kin do that straight enough, I reckon, " said the woman; "what Iwant to know first is, kin you take the case?"

The Colonel did not hesitate; his curiosity was piqued. "I certainlycan. I have no doubt your daughter will put me in possession ofsufficient facts and details--to constitute what we call--er--a brief. "

"She kin be brief enough--or long enough--for the matter of that, " saidthe woman, rising. The Colonel accepted this implied witticism with asmile. 

"And when may I have the pleasure of seeing her?" he asked politely. 

"Well, I reckon as soon as I can trot out and call her. She's justoutside, meanderin' in the road--kinder shy, ye know, at first. "

She walked to the door. The astounded Colonel nevertheless gallantlyaccompanied her as she stepped out into the street and called shrilly, "You Zaidee!"

A young girl here apparently detached herself from a tree and theostentatious perusal of an old election poster, and sauntered downtowards the office door. Like her mother, she was plainly dressed;unlike her, she had a pale, rather refined face, with a demure mouth anddowncast eyes. This was all the Colonel saw as he bowed profoundly andled the way into his office, for she accepted his salutations withoutlifting her head. He helped her gallantly to a chair, on which sheseated herself sideways, somewhat ceremoniously, with her eyes followingthe point of her parasol as she traced a pattern on the carpet. A secondchair offered to the mother that lady, however, declined. "I reckon toleave you and Zaidee together to talk it out, " she said; turning to herdaughter, she added, "Jest you tell him all, Zaidee, " and before theColonel could rise again, disappeared from the room. In spite of hisprofessional experience, Starbottle was for a moment embarrassed. Theyoung girl, however, broke the silence without looking up. 

"Adoniram K. Hotchkiss, " she began, in a monotonous voice, as if it werea recitation addressed to the public, "first began to take notice of mea year ago. Arter that--off and on"--

"One moment, " interrupted the astounded Colonel; "do you mean Hotchkissthe President of the Ditch Company?" He had recognized the name ofa prominent citizen--a rigid, ascetic, taciturn, middle-aged man--adeacon--and more than that, the head of the company he had justdefended. It seemed inconceivable. 

"That's him, " she continued, with eyes still fixed on the parasol andwithout changing her monotonous tone--"off and on ever since. Mostof the time at the Free-Will Baptist Church--at morning service, prayer-meetings, and such. And at home--outside--er--in the road. "

"Is it this gentleman--Mr. Adoniram K. Hotchkiss--who--er--promisedmarriage?" stammered the Colonel. 

"Yes. "

The Colonel shifted uneasily in his chair. "Most extraordinary! for--yousee--my dear young lady--this becomes--a--er--most delicate affair. "

"That's what maw said, " returned the young woman simply, yet with thefaintest smile playing around her demure lips and downcast cheek. 

"I mean, " said the Colonel, with a pained yet courteous smile, "thatthis--er--gentleman--is in fact--er--one of my clients. "

"That's what maw said too, and of course your knowing him will make itall the easier for you. "

A slight flush crossed the Colonel's cheek as he returned quickly and alittle stiffly, "On the contrary--er--it may make it impossible for meto--er--act in this matter. "

The girl lifted her eyes. The Colonel held his breath as the long lasheswere raised to his level. Even to an ordinary observer that suddenrevelation of her eyes seemed to transform her face with subtlewitchery. They were large, brown, and soft, yet filled with anextraordinary penetration and prescience. They were the eyes of anexperienced woman of thirty fixed in the face of a child. What else theColonel saw there Heaven only knows! He felt his inmost secretsplucked from him--his whole soul laid bare--his vanity, belligerency, gallantry--even his mediaeval chivalry, penetrated, and yet illuminated, in that single glance. And when the eyelids fell again, he felt that agreater part of himself had been swallowed up in them. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said hurriedly. "I mean--this matter maybe arranged--er--amicably. My interest with--and as you wiselysay--my--er--knowledge of my client--er--Mr. Hotchkiss--may effect--acompromise. "

"And DAMAGES, " said the young girl, readdressing her parasol, as if shehad never looked up. 

The Colonel winced. "And--er--undoubtedly COMPENSATION--if you do notpress a fulfillment of the promise. Unless, " he said, with an attemptedreturn to his former easy gallantry, which, however, the recollection ofher eyes made difficult, "it is a question of--er--the affections. "

"Which?" asked his fair client softly. 

"If you still love him?" explained the Colonel, actually blushing. 

Zaidee again looked up; again taking the Colonel's breath away with eyesthat expressed not only the fullest perception of what he had SAID, butof what he thought and had not said, and with an added subtle suggestionof what he might have thought. "That's tellin', " she said, dropping herlong lashes again. 

The Colonel laughed vacantly. Then feeling himself growing imbecile, heforced an equally weak gravity. "Pardon me--I understand there are noletters; may I know the way in which he formulated his declaration andpromises?"

"Hymn-books. "

"I beg your pardon, " said the mystified lawyer. 

"Hymn-books--marked words in them with pencil--and passed 'em on tome, " repeated Zaidee. "Like 'love, ' 'dear, ' 'precious, ' 'sweet, ' and'blessed, '" she added, accenting each word with a push of her parasol onthe carpet. "Sometimes a whole line outer Tate and Brady--and Solomon'sSong, you know, and sich. "

"I believe, " said the Colonel loftily, "that the--er--phrases of sacredpsalmody lend themselves to the language of the affections. But inregard to the distinct promise of marriage--was there--er--no OTHERexpression?"

"Marriage Service in the prayer-book--lines and words outer that--allmarked, " Zaidee replied. 

The Colonel nodded naturally and approvingly. "Very good. Were otherscognizant of this? Were there any witnesses?"

"Of course not, " said the girl. "Only me and him. It was generally atchurch-time--or prayer-meeting. Once, in passing the plate, he slippedone o' them peppermint lozenges with the letters stamped on it 'I loveyou' for me to take. "

The Colonel coughed slightly. "And you have the lozenge?"

"I ate it. "

"Ah, " said the Colonel. After a pause he added delicately, "But werethese attentions--er--confined to--er--sacred precincts? Did he meet youelsewhere?"

"Useter pass our house on the road, " returned the girl, dropping intoher monotonous recital, "and useter signal. "

"Ah, signal?" repeated the Colonel approvingly. 

"Yes! He'd say 'Keerow, ' and I'd say 'Keeree. ' Suthing like a bird, youknow. "

Indeed, as she lifted her voice in imitation of the call, the Colonelthought it certainly very sweet and birdlike. At least as SHE gaveit. With his remembrance of the grim deacon he had doubts as to themelodiousness of HIS utterance. He gravely made her repeat it. 

"And after that signal?" he added suggestively. 

"He'd pass on. "

The Colonel again coughed slightly, and tapped his desk with hispenholder. 

"Were there any endearments--er--caresses--er--such as taking yourhand--er--clasping your waist?" he suggested, with a gallant yetrespectful sweep of his white hand and bowing of his head; "er--slightpressure of your fingers in the changes of a dance--I mean, " hecorrected himself, with an apologetic cough--"in the passing of theplate?"

"No; he was not what you'd call 'fond, '" returned the girl. 

"Ah! Adoniram K. Hotchkiss was not 'fond' in the ordinary acceptance ofthe word, " noted the Colonel, with professional gravity. 

She lifted her disturbing eyes, and again absorbed his in her own. Shealso said "Yes, " although her eyes in their mysterious prescience of allhe was thinking disclaimed the necessity of any answer at all. He smiledvacantly. There was a long pause. On which she slowly disengaged herparasol from the carpet pattern, and stood up. 

"I reckon that's about all, " she said. 

"Er--yes--but one moment, " began the Colonel vaguely. He would haveliked to keep her longer, but with her strange premonition of him hefelt powerless to detain her, or explain his reason for doing so. Heinstinctively knew she had told him all; his professional judgment toldhim that a more hopeless case had never come to his knowledge. Yet hewas not daunted, only embarrassed. "No matter, " he said. "Of course Ishall have to consult with you again. "

Her eyes again answered that she expected he would, and she addedsimply, "When?"

"In the course of a day or two;" he replied quickly. "I will send youword. "

She turned to go. In his eagerness to open the door for her, he upsethis chair, and with some confusion, that was actually youthful, healmost impeded her movements in the hall, and knocked his broad-brimmedPanama hat from his bowing hand in a final gallant sweep. Yet as hersmall, trim, youthful figure, with its simple Leghorn straw hat confinedby a blue bow under her round chin, passed away before him, she lookedmore like a child than ever. 

The Colonel spent that afternoon in making diplomatic inquiries. Hefound his youthful client was the daughter of a widow who had a smallranch on the cross-roads, near the new Free-Will Baptist Church--theevident theatre of this pastoral. They led a secluded life, thegirl being little known in the town, and her beauty and fascinationapparently not yet being a recognized fact. The Colonel felt apleasurable relief at this, and a general satisfaction he could notaccount for. His few inquiries concerning Mr. Hotchkiss only confirmedhis own impressions of the alleged lover, --a serious-minded, practicallyabstracted man, abstentive of youthful society, and the last manapparently capable of levity of the affections or serious flirtation. The Colonel was mystified, but determined of purpose, whatever thatpurpose might have been. 

The next day he was at his office at the same hour. He was alone--asusual--the Colonel's office being really his private lodgings, disposedin connecting rooms, a single apartment reserved for consultation. He had no clerk, his papers and briefs being taken by his faithfulbody-servant and ex-slave "Jim" to another firm who did his office worksince the death of Major Stryker, the Colonel's only law partner, whofell in a duel some years previous. With a fine constancy the Colonelstill retained his partner's name on his doorplate, and, it was allegedby the superstitious, kept a certain invincibility also through the'manes' of that lamented and somewhat feared man. 

The Colonel consulted his watch, whose heavy gold case still showedthe marks of a providential interference with a bullet destined for itsowner, and replaced it with some difficulty and shortness of breath inhis fob. At the same moment he heard a step in the passage, and the dooropened to Adoniram K. Hotchkiss. The Colonel was impressed; he had aduelist's respect for punctuality. 

The man entered with a nod and the expectant inquiring look of a busyman. As his feet crossed that sacred threshold the Colonel became allcourtesy; he placed a chair for his visitor, and took his hat from hishalf reluctant hand. He then opened a cupboard and brought out a bottleof whiskey and two glasses. 

"A--er--slight refreshment, Mr. Hotchkiss, " he suggested politely. 

"I never drink, " replied Hotchkiss, with the severe attitude of a totalabstainer. 

"Ah--er--not the finest Bourbon whiskey, selected by a Kentucky friend?No? Pardon me! A cigar, then--the mildest Havana. "

"I do not use tobacco nor alcohol in any form, " repeated Hotchkissascetically. "I have no foolish weaknesses. "

The Colonel's moist, beady eyes swept silently over his client's sallowface. He leaned back comfortably in his chair, and half closing hiseyes as in dreamy reminiscence, said slowly: "Your reply, Mr. Hotchkiss, reminds me of--er--sing'lar circumstance that--er--occurred, in point offact--at the St. Charles Hotel, New Orleans. Pinkey Hornblower--personalfriend--invited Senator Doolittle to join him in social glass. Received, sing'larly enough, reply similar to yours. 'Don't drink nor smoke?' saidPinkey. 'Gad, sir, you must be mighty sweet on the ladies. ' Ha!"The Colonel paused long enough to allow the faint flush to pass fromHotchkiss's cheek, and went on, half closing his eyes: "'I allow no man, sir, to discuss my personal habits, ' declared Doolittle, over his shirtcollar. 'Then I reckon shootin' must be one of those habits, ' saidPinkey coolly. Both men drove out on the Shell Road back of cemeterynext morning. Pinkey put bullet at twelve paces through Doolittle'stemple. Poor Doo never spoke again. Left three wives and seven children, they say--two of 'em black. "

"I got a note from you this morning, " said Hotchkiss, with badlyconcealed impatience. "I suppose in reference to our case. You havetaken judgment, I believe. "

The Colonel, without replying, slowly filled a glass of whiskey andwater. For a moment he held it dreamily before him, as if still engagedin gentle reminiscences called up by the act. Then tossing it off, he wiped his lips with a large white handkerchief, and leaning backcomfortably in his chair, said, with a wave of his hand, "The interviewI requested, Mr. Hotchkiss, concerns a subject--which I may sayis--er--er--at present NOT of a public or business nature--althoughLATER it might become--er--er--both. It is an affair ofsome--er--delicacy. "

The Colonel paused, and Mr. Hotchkiss regarded him with increasedimpatience. The Colonel, however, continued, with unchangeddeliberation: "It concerns--er--er--a young lady--a beautiful, high-souled creature, sir, who, apart from her personalloveliness--er--er--I may say is of one of the first families ofMissouri, and--er--not remotely connected by marriage with oneof--er--er--my boyhood's dearest friends. " The latter, I grieve to say, was a pure invention of the Colonel's--an oratorical addition to thescanty information he had obtained the previous day. "The young lady, "he continued blandly, "enjoys the further distinction of beingthe object of such attention from you as would make thisinterview--really--a confidential matter--er--er among friendsand--er--er--relations in present and future. I need not say that thelady I refer to is Miss Zaidee Juno Hooker, only daughter of AlmiraAnn Hooker, relict of Jefferson Brown Hooker, formerly of Boone County, Kentucky, and latterly of--er--Pike County, Missouri. "

The sallow, ascetic hue of Mr. Hotchkiss's face had passed through alivid and then a greenish shade, and finally settled into a sullen red. "What's all this about?" he demanded roughly. 

The least touch of belligerent fire came into Starbottle's eye, but hisbland courtesy did not change. "I believe, " he said politely, "I havemade myself clear as between--er--gentlemen, though perhaps not as clearas I should to--er--er--jury. "

Mr. Hotchkiss was apparently struck with some significance in thelawyer's reply. "I don't know, " he said, in a lower and more cautiousvoice, "what you mean by what you call 'my attentions' to--any one--orhow it concerns you. I have not exchanged half a dozen words with--theperson you name--have never written her a line--nor even called at herhouse. "

He rose with an assumption of ease, pulled down his waistcoat, buttonedhis coat, and took up his hat. The Colonel did not move. 

"I believe I have already indicated my meaning in what I have called'your attentions, '" said the Colonel blandly, "and given you my'concern' for speaking as--er--er--mutual friend. As to YOUR statementof your relations with Miss Hooker, I may state that it is fullycorroborated by the statement of the young lady herself in this veryoffice yesterday. "

"Then what does this impertinent nonsense mean? Why am I summoned here?"demanded Hotchkiss furiously. 

"Because, " said the Colonel deliberately, "that statement isinfamously--yes, damnably to your discredit, sir!"

Mr. Hotchkiss was here seized by one of those impotent and inconsistentrages which occasionally betray the habitually cautious and timid man. He caught up the Colonel's stick, which was lying on the table. At thesame moment the Colonel, without any apparent effort, grasped it bythe handle. To Mr. Hotchkiss's astonishment, the stick separated in twopieces, leaving the handle and about two feet of narrow glittering steelin the Colonel's hand. The man recoiled, dropping the useless fragment. The Colonel picked it up, fitted the shining blade in it, clicked thespring, and then rising with a face of courtesy yet of unmistakablygenuine pain, and with even a slight tremor in his voice, saidgravely, --

"Mr. Hotchkiss, I owe you a thousand apologies, sir, that--er--a weaponshould be drawn by me--even through your own inadvertence--under thesacred protection of my roof, and upon an unarmed man. I beg yourpardon, sir, and I even withdraw the expressions which provokedthat inadvertence. Nor does this apology prevent you from holding meresponsible--personally responsible--ELSEWHERE for an indiscretioncommitted in behalf of a lady--my--er--client. "

"Your client? Do you mean you have taken her case? You, the counsel forthe Ditch Company?" asked Mr. Hotchkiss, in trembling indignation. 

"Having won YOUR case, sir, " replied the Colonel coolly, "the--er--usages of advocacy do not prevent me from espousing the causeof the weak and unprotected. "

"We shall see, sir, " said Hotchkiss, grasping the handle of the door andbacking into the passage. "There are other lawyers who"--

"Permit me to see you out, " interrupted the Colonel, rising politely. 

--"will be ready to resist the attacks of blackmail, " continuedHotchkiss, retreating along the passage. 

"And then you will be able to repeat your remarks to me IN THE STREET, "continued the Colonel, bowing, as he persisted in following his visitorto the door. 

But here Mr. Hotchkiss quickly slammed it behind him, and hurried away. The Colonel returned to his office, and sitting down, took a sheet ofletter-paper bearing the inscription "Starbottle and Stryker, Attorneysand Counselors, " and wrote the following lines:--

HOOKER versus HOTCHKISS. 

DEAR MADAM, --Having had a visit from the defendant in above, we shouldbe pleased to have an interview with you at two P. M. To-morrow. 

Your obedient servants, STARBOTTLE AND STRYKER. 

This he sealed and dispatched by his trusted servant Jim, and thendevoted a few moments to reflection. It was the custom of the Colonel toact first, and justify the action by reason afterwards. 

He knew that Hotchkiss would at once lay the matter before rivalcounsel. He knew that they would advise him that Miss Hooker had "nocase"--that she would be nonsuited on her own evidence, and he ought notto compromise, but be ready to stand trial. He believed, however, thatHotchkiss feared such exposure, and although his own instincts had beenat first against this remedy, he was now instinctively in favor of it. He remembered his own power with a jury; his vanity and his chivalryalike approved of this heroic method; he was bound by no prosaicfacts--he had his own theory of the case, which no mere evidence couldgainsay. In fact, Mrs. Hooker's admission that he was to "tell the storyin his own way" actually appeared to him an inspiration and a prophecy. 

Perhaps there was something else, due possibly to the lady's wonderfuleyes, of which he had thought much. Yet it was not her simplicity thataffected him solely; on the contrary, it was her apparent intelligentreading of the character of her recreant lover--and of his own! Of allthe Colonel's previous "light" or "serious" loves, none had ever beforeflattered him in that way. And it was this, combined with the respectwhich he had held for their professional relations, that precludedhis having a more familiar knowledge of his client, through seriousquestioning or playful gallantry. I am not sure it was not part of thecharm to have a rustic femme incomprise as a client. 

Nothing could exceed the respect with which he greeted her as sheentered his office the next day. He even affected not to notice that shehad put on her best clothes, and he made no doubt appeared as whenshe had first attracted the mature yet faithless attentions of DeaconHotchkiss at church. A white virginal muslin was belted around her slimfigure by a blue ribbon, and her Leghorn hat was drawn around her ovalcheek by a bow of the same color. She had a Southern girl's narrow feet, encased in white stockings and kid slippers, which were crossed primlybefore her as she sat in a chair, supporting her arm by her faithfulparasol planted firmly on the floor. A faint odor of southernwoodexhaled from her, and, oddly enough, stirred the Colonel with a far-offrecollection of a pine-shaded Sunday-school on a Georgia hillside, andof his first love, aged ten, in a short starched frock. Possibly it wasthe same recollection that revived something of the awkwardness he hadfelt then. 

He, however, smiled vaguely, and sitting down, coughed slightly, andplaced his finger-tips together. "I have had an--er--interview withMr. Hotchkiss, but--I--er--regret to say there seems to be no prospectof--er--compromise. "

He paused, and to his surprise her listless "company" face lit up withan adorable smile. "Of course!--ketch him!" she said. "Was he mad whenyou told him?" She put her knees comfortably together and leaned forwardfor a reply. 

For all that, wild horses could not have torn from the Colonel a wordabout Hotchkiss's anger. "He expressed his intention of employingcounsel--and defending a suit, " returned the Colonel, affably basking inher smile. 

She dragged her chair nearer his desk. "Then you'll fight him tooth andnail?" she asked eagerly; "you'll show him up? You'll tell the wholestory your own way? You'll give him fits?--and you'll make him pay?Sure?" she went on breathlessly. 

"I--er--will, " said the Colonel, almost as breathlessly. 

She caught his fat white hand, which was lying on the table, betweenher own and lifted it to her lips. He felt her soft young fingers eventhrough the lisle-thread gloves that encased them, and the warm moistureof her lips upon his skin. He felt himself flushing--but was unableto break the silence or change his position. The next moment she hadscuttled back with her chair to her old position. 

"I--er--certainly shall do my best, " stammered the Colonel, in anattempt to recover his dignity and composure. 

"That's enough! You'll do it, " said she enthusiastically. "Lordy! Justyou talk for ME as ye did for HIS old Ditch Company, and you'll fetchit--every time! Why, when you made that jury sit up the other day--whenyou got that off about the Merrikan flag waving equally over the rightsof honest citizens banded together in peaceful commercial pursuits, aswell as over the fortress of official proflig--"

"Oligarchy, " murmured the Colonel courteously. 

--"oligarchy, " repeated the girl quickly, "my breath was just took away. I said to maw, 'Ain't he too sweet for anything!' I did, honest Injin!And when you rolled it all off at the end--never missing a word (youdidn't need to mark 'em in a lesson-book, but had 'em all ready on yourtongue)--and walked out--Well! I didn't know you nor the Ditch Companyfrom Adam, but I could have just run over and kissed you there beforethe whole court!"

She laughed, with her face glowing, although her strange eyes were castdown. Alack! the Colonel's face was equally flushed, and his own beadyeyes were on his desk. To any other woman he would have voiced the banalgallantry that he should now, himself, look forward to that reward, butthe words never reached his lips. He laughed, coughed slightly, and whenhe looked up again she had fallen into the same attitude as on her firstvisit, with her parasol point on the floor. 

"I must ask you to--er--direct your memory to--er--another point: thebreaking off of the--er--er--er--engagement. Did he--er--give any reasonfor it? Or show any cause?"

"No; he never said anything, " returned the girl. 

"Not in his usual way?--er--no reproaches out of the hymn-book?--or thesacred writings?"

"No; he just QUIT. "

"Er--ceased his attentions, " said the Colonel gravely. "And naturallyyou--er--were not conscious of any cause for his doing so. "

The girl raised her wonderful eyes so suddenly and so penetratinglywithout replying in any other way that the Colonel could only hurriedlysay: "I see! None, of course!"

At which she rose, the Colonel rising also. "We--shall begin proceedingsat once. I must, however, caution you to answer no questions, nor sayanything about this case to any one until you are in court. "

She answered his request with another intelligent look and a nod. Heaccompanied her to the door. As he took her proffered hand, he raisedthe lisle-thread fingers to his lips with old-fashioned gallantry. As ifthat act had condoned for his first omissions and awkwardness, he becamehis old-fashioned self again, buttoned his coat, pulled out his shirtfrill, and strutted back to his desk. 

A day or two later it was known throughout the town that Zaidee Hookerhad sued Adoniram Hotchkiss for breach of promise, and that the damageswere laid at five thousand dollars. As in those bucolic days the Westernpress was under the secure censorship of a revolver, a cautious tone ofcriticism prevailed, and any gossip was confined to personal expression, and even then at the risk of the gossiper. Nevertheless, the situationprovoked the intensest curiosity. The Colonel was approached--untilhis statement that he should consider any attempt to overcome hisprofessional secrecy a personal reflection withheld further advances. The community were left to the more ostentatious information of thedefendant's counsel, Messrs. Kitcham and Bilser, that the case was"ridiculous" and "rotten, " that the plaintiff would be nonsuited, andthe fire-eating Starbottle would be taught a lesson that he could not"bully" the law, and there were some dark hints of a conspiracy. It waseven hinted that the "case" was the revengeful and preposterous outcomeof the refusal of Hotchkiss to pay Starbottle an extravagant fee for hislate services to the Ditch Company. It is unnecessary to say that thesewords were not reported to the Colonel. It was, however, an unfortunatecircumstance for the calmer, ethical consideration of the subject thatthe Church sided with Hotchkiss, as this provoked an equal adherenceto the plaintiff and Starbottle on the part of the larger body ofnon-churchgoers, who were delighted at a possible exposure of theweakness of religious rectitude. "I've allus had my suspicions o' themearly candle-light meetings down at that gospel shop, " said one critic, "and I reckon Deacon Hotchkiss didn't rope in the gals to attend jestfor psalm-singing. " "Then for him to get up and leave the board aforethe game's finished and try to sneak out of it, " said an other, --"Isuppose that's what they call RELIGIOUS. "

It was therefore not remarkable that the court-house three weeks laterwas crowded with an excited multitude of the curious and sympathizing. The fair plaintiff, with her mother, was early in attendance, and underthe Colonel's advice appeared in the same modest garb in which she hadfirst visited his office. This and her downcast, modest demeanor wereperhaps at first disappointing to the crowd, who had evidently expecteda paragon of loveliness in this Circe of that grim, ascetic defendant, who sat beside his counsel. But presently all eyes were fixed on theColonel, who certainly made up in his appearance any deficiency of hisfair client. His portly figure was clothed in a blue dress coat withbrass buttons, a buff waistcoat which permitted his frilled shirt-frontto become erectile above it, a black satin stock which confined a boyishturned-down collar around his full neck, and immaculate drill trousers, strapped over varnished boots. A murmur ran round the court. "Old'Personally Responsible' has got his war-paint on;" "The Old War-Horseis smelling powder, " were whispered comments. Yet for all that, themost irreverent among them recognized vaguely, in this bizarre figure, something of an honored past in their country's history, and possiblyfelt the spell of old deeds and old names that had once thrilled theirboyish pulses. The new District Judge returned Colonel Starbottle'sprofoundly punctilious bow. The Colonel was followed by his negroservant, carrying a parcel of hymn-books and Bibles, who, with acourtesy evidently imitated from his master, placed one before theopposite counsel. This, after a first curious glance, the lawyersomewhat superciliously tossed aside. But when Jim, proceeding to thejury-box, placed with equal politeness the remaining copies before thejury, the opposite counsel sprang to his feet. 

"I want to direct the attention of the Court to this unprecedentedtampering with the jury, by this gratuitous exhibition of matterimpertinent and irrelevant to the issue. "

The Judge cast an inquiring look at Colonel Starbottle. 

"May it please the Court, " returned Colonel Starbottle with dignity, ignoring the counsel, "the defendant's counsel will observe that heis already furnished with the matter--which I regret to say he hastreated--in the presence of the Court--and of his client, a deacon ofthe church--with--er--great superciliousness. When I state to yourHonor that the books in question are hymn-books and copies of the HolyScriptures, and that they are for the instruction of the jury, to whomI shall have to refer them in the course of my opening, I believe I amwithin my rights. "

"The act is certainly unprecedented, " said the Judge dryly, "but unlessthe counsel for the plaintiff expects the jury to SING from thesehymn-books, their introduction is not improper, and I cannot admit theobjection. As defendant's counsel are furnished with copies also, theycannot plead 'surprise, ' as in the introduction of new matter, and asplaintiff's counsel relies evidently upon the jury's attention to hisopening, he would not be the first person to distract it. " After a pausehe added, addressing the Colonel, who remained standing, "The Court iswith you, sir; proceed. "

But the Colonel remained motionless and statuesque, with folded arms. 

"I have overruled the objection, " repeated the Judge; "you may go on. "

"I am waiting, your Honor, for the--er--withdrawal by the defendant'scounsel of the word 'tampering, ' as refers to myself, and of'impertinent, ' as refers to the sacred volumes. "

"The request is a proper one, and I have no doubt will be acceded to, "returned the Judge quietly. The defendant's counsel rose and mumbleda few words of apology, and the incident closed. There was, however, ageneral feeling that the Colonel had in some way "scored, " and if hisobject had been to excite the greatest curiosity about the books, he hadmade his point. 

But impassive of his victory, he inflated his chest, with his right handin the breast of his buttoned coat, and began. His usual high color hadpaled slightly, but the small pupils of his prominent eyes glitteredlike steel. The young girl leaned forward in her chair with an attentionso breathless, a sympathy so quick, and an admiration so artlessand unconscious that in an instant she divided with the speaker theattention of the whole assemblage. It was very hot; the court wascrowded to suffocation; even the open windows revealed a crowd of facesoutside the building, eagerly following the Colonel's words. 

He would remind the jury that only a few weeks ago he stood there asthe advocate of a powerful Company, then represented by the presentdefendant. He spoke then as the champion of strict justice againstlegal oppression; no less should he to-day champion the cause of theunprotected and the comparatively defenseless--save for that paramountpower which surrounds beauty and innocence--even though the plaintiffof yesterday was the defendant of to-day. As he approached the court amoment ago he had raised his eyes and beheld the starry flag flying fromits dome, and he knew that glorious banner was a symbol of the perfectequality, under the Constitution, of the rich and the poor, the strongand the weak--an equality which made the simple citizen taken from theplough in the field, the pick in the gulch, or from behind the counterin the mining town, who served on that jury, the equal arbiters ofjustice with that highest legal luminary whom they were proud to welcomeon the bench to-day. The Colonel paused, with a stately bow to theimpassive Judge. It was this, he continued, which lifted his heart ashe approached the building. And yet--he had entered it with anuncertain--he might almost say--a timid step. And why? He knew, gentlemen, he was about to confront a profound--aye! a sacredresponsibility! Those hymn-books and holy writings handed to the jurywere NOT, as his Honor had surmised, for the purpose of enabling thejury to indulge in--er--preliminary choral exercise! He might, indeed, say, "Alas, not!" They were the damning, incontrovertible proofs of theperfidy of the defendant. And they would prove as terrible a warning tohim as the fatal characters upon Belshazzar's wall. There was a strongsensation. Hotchkiss turned a sallow green. His lawyers assumed acareless smile. 

It was his duty to tell them that this was not one of those ordinary"breach-of-promise" cases which were too often the occasion of ruthlessmirth and indecent levity in the court-room. The jury would findnothing of that here. There were no love-letters with the epithets ofendearment, nor those mystic crosses and ciphers which, he had beencredibly informed, chastely hid the exchange of those mutual caressesknown as "kisses. " There was no cruel tearing of the veil from thosesacred privacies of the human affection; there was no forensic shoutingout of those fond confidences meant only for ONE. But there was, he wasshocked to say, a new sacrilegious intrusion. The weak pipings of Cupidwere mingled with the chorus of the saints, --the sanctity of the templeknown as the "meeting--house" was desecrated by proceedings more inkeeping with the shrine of Venus; and the inspired writings themselveswere used as the medium of amatory and wanton flirtation by thedefendant in his sacred capacity as deacon. 

The Colonel artistically paused after this thunderous denunciation. Thejury turned eagerly to the leaves of the hymn-books, but the larger gazeof the audience remained fixed upon the speaker and the girl, who sat inrapt admiration of his periods. After the hush, the Colonel continuedin a lower and sadder voice: "There are, perhaps, few of us here, gentlemen, --with the exception of the defendant, --who can arrogate tothemselves the title of regular church-goers, or to whom these humblerfunctions of the prayer-meeting, the Sunday-school, and the Bible-classare habitually familiar. Yet"--more solemnly--"down in our hearts is thedeep conviction of our shortcomings and failings, and a laudable desirethat others, at least, should profit by the teachings we neglect. Perhaps, " he continued, closing his eyes dreamily, "there is not aman here who does not recall the happy days of his boyhood, the rusticvillage spire, the lessons shared with some artless village maiden, withwhom he later sauntered, hand in hand, through the woods, as the simplerhyme rose upon their lips, --

 'Always make it a point to have it a rule, Never to be late at the Sabbath-school. '

"He would recall the strawberry feasts, the welcome annual picnic, redolent with hunks of gingerbread and sarsaparilla. How would they feelto know that these sacred recollections were now forever profaned intheir memory by the knowledge that the defendant was capable of usingsuch occasions to make love to the larger girls and teachers, whilsthis artless companions were innocently--the Court will pardon me forintroducing what I am credibly informed is the local expression--'doinggooseberry'?" The tremulous flicker of a smile passed over the faces ofthe listening crowd, and the Colonel slightly winced. But he recoveredhimself instantly, and continued, --

"My client, the only daughter of a widowed mother--who has for yearsstemmed the varying tides of adversity, in the western precincts of thistown--stands before you to-day invested only in her own innocence. Shewears no--er--rich gifts of her faithless admirer--is panoplied in nojewels, rings, nor mementos of affection such as lovers delight to hangupon the shrine of their affections; hers is not the glory with whichSolomon decorated the Queen of Sheba, though the defendant, as I shallshow later, clothed her in the less expensive flowers of the king'spoetry. No, gentlemen! The defendant exhibited in this affair a certainfrugality of--er--pecuniary investment, which I am willing to admit maybe commendable in his class. His only gift was characteristic alikeof his methods and his economy. There is, I understand, a certainnot unimportant feature of religious exercise known as 'taking acollection. ' The defendant, on this occasion, by the mute presentationof a tin plate covered with baize, solicited the pecuniary contributionsof the faithful. On approaching the plaintiff, however, he himselfslipped a love-token upon the plate and pushed it towards her. Thatlove-token was a lozenge--a small disk, I have reason to believe, concocted of peppermint and sugar, bearing upon its reverse surface thesimple words, 'I love you!' I have since ascertained that these disksmay be bought for five cents a dozen--or at considerably less than onehalf cent for the single lozenge. Yes, gentlemen, the words 'I loveyou!'--the oldest legend of all; the refrain 'when the morningstars sang together'--were presented to the plaintiff by a medium soinsignificant that there is, happily, no coin in the republic low enoughto represent its value. 

"I shall prove to you, gentlemen of the jury, " said the Colonelsolemnly, drawing a Bible from his coat-tail pocket, "that the defendantfor the last twelve months conducted an amatory correspondence withthe plaintiff by means of underlined words of Sacred Writ and churchpsalmody, such as 'beloved, ' 'precious, ' and 'dearest, ' occasionallyappropriating whole passages which seemed apposite to his tenderpassion. I shall call your attention to one of them. The defendant, while professing to be a total abstainer, --a man who, in my ownknowledge, has refused spirituous refreshment as an inordinate weaknessof the flesh, --with shameless hypocrisy underscores with his pencil thefollowing passage, and presents it to the plaintiff. The gentlemen ofthe jury will find it in the Song of Solomon, page 548, chapter ii. Verse 5. " After a pause, in which the rapid rustling of leaves was heardin the jury-box, Colonel Starbottle declaimed in a pleading, stentorianvoice, "'Stay me with--er--FLAGONS, comfort me with--er--apples--forI am--er--sick of love. ' Yes, gentlemen!--yes, you may well turnfrom those accusing pages and look at the double-faced defendant. Hedesires--to--er--be--'stayed with flagons'! I am not aware at presentwhat kind of liquor is habitually dispensed at these meetings, and forwhich the defendant so urgently clamored; but it will be my duty, beforethis trial is over, to discover it, if I have to summon every barkeeperin this district. For the moment I will simply call your attention tothe QUANTITY. It is not a single drink that the defendant asks for--nota glass of light and generous wine, to be shared with his inamorata, but a number of flagons or vessels, each possibly holding a pintmeasure--FOR HIMSELF!"

The smile of the audience had become a laugh. The Judge looked upwarningly, when his eye caught the fact that the Colonel had againwinced at this mirth. He regarded him seriously. Mr. Hotchkiss's counselhad joined in the laugh affectedly, but Hotchkiss himself sat ashy pale. There was also a commotion in the jury-box, a hurried turning over ofleaves, and an excited discussion. 

"The gentlemen of the jury, " said the Judge, with official gravity, "will please keep order and attend only to the speeches of counsel. Anydiscussion HERE is irregular and premature, and must be reserved for thejury-room after they have retired. "

The foreman of the jury struggled to his feet. He was a powerful man, with a good-humored face, and, in spite of his unfelicitous nickname of"The Bone-Breaker, " had a kindly, simple, but somewhat emotional nature. Nevertheless, it appeared as if he were laboring under some powerfulindignation. 

"Can we ask a question, Judge?" he said respectfully, although his voicehad the unmistakable Western American ring in it, as of one who wasunconscious that he could be addressing any but his peers. 

"Yes, " said the Judge good-humoredly. 

"We're finding in this yere piece, out o' which the Kernel hes just bina-quotin', some language that me and my pardners allow hadn't orter beread out afore a young lady in court, and we want to know of you--ez afa'r-minded and impartial man--ef this is the reg'lar kind o' book givento gals and babies down at the meetin'-house. "

"The jury will please follow the counsel's speech without comment, " saidthe Judge briefly, fully aware that the defendant's counsel would springto his feet, as he did promptly. 

"The Court will allow us to explain to the gentlemen that the languagethey seem to object to has been accepted by the best theologians forthe last thousand years as being purely mystic. As I will explain later, those are merely symbols of the Church"--

"Of wot?" interrupted the foreman, in deep scorn. 

"Of the Church!"

"We ain't askin' any questions o' YOU, and we ain't takin' any answers, "said the foreman, sitting down abruptly. 

"I must insist, " said the Judge sternly, "that the plaintiff's counselbe allowed to continue his opening without interruption. You" (todefendant's counsel) "will have your opportunity to reply later. "

The counsel sank down in his seat with the bitter conviction that thejury was manifestly against him, and the case as good as lost. But hisface was scarcely as disturbed as his client's, who, in great agitation, had begun to argue with him wildly, and was apparently pressing somepoint against the lawyer's vehement opposal. The Colonel's murky eyesbrightened as he still stood erect, with his hand thrust in his breast. 

"It will be put to you, gentlemen, when the counsel on the other siderefrains from mere interruption and confines himself to reply, that myunfortunate client has no action--no remedy at law--because there wereno spoken words of endearment. But, gentlemen, it will depend upon YOUto say what are and what are not articulate expressions of love. We allknow that among the lower animals, with whom you may possibly be calledupon to classify the defendant, there are certain signals more or lessharmonious, as the case may be. The ass brays, the horse neighs, thesheep bleats--the feathered denizens of the grove call to their matesin more musical roundelays. These are recognized facts, gentlemen, whichyou yourselves, as dwellers among nature in this beautiful land, are allcognizant of. They are facts that no one would deny--and we should havea poor opinion of the ass who, at--er--such a supreme moment, would attempt to suggest that his call was unthinking and withoutsignificance. But, gentlemen, I shall prove to you that such was thefoolish, self-convicting custom of the defendant. With the greatestreluctance, and the--er--greatest pain, I succeeded in wresting fromthe maidenly modesty of my fair client the innocent confession thatthe defendant had induced her to correspond with him in these methods. Picture to yourself, gentlemen, the lonely moonlight road beside thewidow's humble cottage. It is a beautiful night, sanctified to theaffections, and the innocent girl is leaning from her casement. Presently there appears upon the road a slinking, stealthy figure, thedefendant on his way to church. True to the instruction she has receivedfrom him, her lips part in the musical utterance" (the Colonel loweredhis voice in a faint falsetto, presumably in fond imitation of hisfair client), "'Keeree!' Instantly the night becomes resonant with theimpassioned reply" (the Colonel here lifted his voice in stentoriantones), "'Kee-row. ' Again, as he passes, rises the soft 'Keeree;' again, as his form is lost in the distance, comes back the deep 'Keerow. '"

A burst of laughter, long, loud, and irrepressible, struck the wholecourt-room, and before the Judge could lift his half-composed faceand take his handkerchief from his mouth, a faint "Keeree" from someunrecognized obscurity of the court-room was followed by a loud "Keerow"from some opposite locality. "The Sheriff will clear the court, " saidthe Judge sternly; but, alas! as the embarrassed and choking officialsrushed hither and thither, a soft "Keeree" from the spectators atthe window, OUTSIDE the court-house, was answered by a loud chorus of"Keerows" from the opposite windows, filled with onlookers. Againthe laughter arose everywhere, --even the fair plaintiff herself satconvulsed behind her handkerchief. 

The figure of Colonel Starbottle alone remained erect--white and rigid. And then the Judge, looking up, saw--what no one else in the court hadseen--that the Colonel was sincere and in earnest; that what he hadconceived to be the pleader's most perfect acting and most elaborateirony were the deep, serious, mirthless CONVICTIONS of a man without theleast sense of humor. There was the respect of this conviction inthe Judge's voice as he said to him gently, "You may proceed, ColonelStarbottle. "

"I thank your Honor, " said the Colonel slowly, "for recognizing anddoing all in your power to prevent an interruption that, during mythirty years' experience at the bar, I have never been subjectedto without the privilege of holding the instigators thereofresponsible--PERSONALLY responsible. It is possibly my fault that I havefailed, oratorically, to convey to the gentlemen of the jury the fullforce and significance of the defendant's signals. I am aware that myvoice is singularly deficient in producing either the dulcet tones of myfair client or the impassioned vehemence of the defendant's response. I will, " continued the Colonel, with a fatigued but blind fatuity thatignored the hurriedly knit brows and warning eyes of the Judge, "tryagain. The note uttered by my client" (lowering his voice to thefaintest of falsettos) "was 'Keeree;' the response was 'Keerow-ow. '" Andthe Colonel's voice fairly shook the dome above him. 

Another uproar of laughter followed this apparently audaciousrepetition, but was interrupted by an unlooked-for incident. Thedefendant rose abruptly, and tearing himself away from the withholdinghand and pleading protestations of his counsel, absolutely fled fromthe court-room, his appearance outside being recognized by a prolonged"Keerow" from the bystanders, which again and again followed him in thedistance. 

In the momentary silence which followed, the Colonel's voice was heardsaying, "We rest here, your Honor, " and he sat down. No less white, butmore agitated, was the face of the defendant's counsel, who instantlyrose. 

"For some unexplained reason, your Honor, my client desires to suspendfurther proceedings, with a view to effect a peaceable compromise withthe plaintiff. As he is a man of wealth and position, he is able andwilling to pay liberally for that privilege. While I, as his counsel, amstill convinced of his legal irresponsibility, as he has chosen publiclyto abandon his rights here, I can only ask your Honor's permission tosuspend further proceedings until I can confer with Colonel Starbottle. "

"As far as I can follow the pleadings, " said the Judge gravely, "thecase seems to be hardly one for litigation, and I approve of thedefendant's course, while I strongly urge the plaintiff to accept it. "

Colonel Starbottle bent over his fair client. Presently he rose, unchanged in look or demeanor. "I yield, your Honor, to the wishes of myclient, and--er--lady. We accept. "

Before the court adjourned that day it was known throughout the townthat Adoniram K. Hotchkiss had compromised the suit for four thousanddollars and costs. 

Colonel Starbottle had so far recovered his equanimity as to strutjauntily towards his office, where he was to meet his fair client. Hewas surprised, however, to find her already there, and in company with asomewhat sheepish-looking young man--a stranger. If the Colonel hadany disappointment in meeting a third party to the interview, hisold-fashioned courtesy did not permit him to show it. He bowedgraciously, and politely motioned them each to a seat. 

"I reckoned I'd bring Hiram round with me, " said the young lady, liftingher searching eyes, after a pause, to the Colonel's, "though he WASawful shy, and allowed that you didn't know him from Adam, or evensuspect his existence. But I said, 'That's just where you slip up, Hiram; a pow'ful man like the Colonel knows everything--and I've seen itin his eye. ' Lordy!" she continued, with a laugh, leaning forward overher parasol, as her eyes again sought the Colonel's, "don't you rememberwhen you asked me if I loved that old Hotchkiss, and I told you, 'That'stellin', ' and you looked at me--Lordy! I knew THEN you suspected therewas a Hiram SOMEWHERE, as good as if I'd told you. Now you jest get up, Hiram, and give the Colonel a good hand-shake. For if it wasn't for HIMand HIS searchin' ways, and HIS awful power of language, I wouldn't hevgot that four thousand dollars out o' that flirty fool Hotchkiss--enoughto buy a farm, so as you and me could get married! That's what you oweto HIM. Don't stand there like a stuck fool starin' at him. He won't eatyou--though he's killed many a better man. Come, have I got to do ALLthe kissin'?"

It is of record that the Colonel bowed so courteously and so profoundlythat he managed not merely to evade the proffered hand of the shy Hiram, but to only lightly touch the franker and more impulsive finger-tips ofthe gentle Zaidee. "I--er--offer my sincerest congratulations--thoughI think you--er--overestimate--my--er--powers of penetration. Unfortunately, a pressing engagement, which may oblige me also to leavetown tonight, forbids my saying more. I have--er--left the--er--businesssettlement of this--er--case in the hands of the lawyers who do myoffice work, and who will show you every attention. And now let me wishyou a very good afternoon. "

Nevertheless, the Colonel returned to his private room, and it wasnearly twilight when the faithful Jim entered, to find him sittingmeditatively before his desk. "'Fo' God! Kernel, I hope dey ain't nuffinde matter, but you's lookin' mighty solemn! I ain't seen you look datway, Kernel, since de day pooh Massa Stryker was fetched home shot froode head. "

"Hand me down the whiskey, Jim, " said the Colonel, rising slowly. 

The negro flew to the closet joyfully, and brought out the bottle. The Colonel poured out a glass of the spirit and drank it with his olddeliberation. 

"You're quite right, Jim, " he said, putting down his glass, "butI'm--er--getting old--and--somehow I am missing poor Stryker damnably!"

THE LANDLORD OF THE BIG FLUME HOTEL

The Big Flume stage-coach had just drawn up at the Big Flume Hotelsimultaneously with the ringing of a large dinner bell in the two handsof a negro waiter, who, by certain gyrations of the bell was trying toimpart to his performance that picturesque elegance and harmonywhich the instrument and its purpose lacked. For the refreshment thusproclaimed was only the ordinary station dinner, protracted at BigFlume for three quarters of an hour, to allow for the arrival of theconnecting mail from Sacramento, although the repast was of a naturethat seldom prevailed upon the traveler to linger the full period overits details. The ordinary cravings of hunger were generally satisfied inhalf an hour, and the remaining minutes were employed by the passengersin drowning the memory of their meal in "drinks at the bar, " in smoking, and even in a hurried game of "old sledge, " or dominoes. Yet to-daythe deserted table was still occupied by a belated traveler, and alady--separated by a wilderness of empty dishes--who had arrived afterthe stage-coach. Observing which, the landlord, perhaps touched bythis unwonted appreciation of his fare, moved forward to give them hispersonal attention. 

He was a man, however, who seemed to be singularly deficient in thosesupreme qualities which in the West have exalted the ability to "keep ahotel" into a proverbial synonym for superexcellence. He had little orno innovating genius, no trade devices, no assumption, no faculty foradvertisement, no progressiveness, and no "racket. " He had the tolerantgood-humor of the Southwestern pioneer, to whom cyclones, famine, drought, floods, pestilence, and savages were things to be accepted, and whom disaster, if it did not stimulate, certainly did not appall. Hereceived the insults, complaints, and criticisms of hurried and hungrypassengers, the comments and threats of the Stage Company as he hadsubmitted to the aggressions of a stupid, unjust, but overrulingNature--with unshaken calm. Perhaps herein lay his strength. Peoplewere obliged to submit to him and his hotel as part of the unfinishedcivilization, and they even saw something humorous in his impassiveness. Those who preferred to remonstrate with him emerged from the discussionwith the general feeling of having been played with by a large-heartedand paternally disposed bear. Tall and long-limbed, with much strengthin his lazy muscles, there was also a prevailing impression that thisfeeling might be intensified if the discussion were ever carried tophysical contention. Of his personal history it was known only that hehad emigrated from Wisconsin in 1852, that he had calmly unyoked his oxteams at Big Flume, then a trackless wilderness, and on the opening of awagon road to the new mines had built a wayside station which eventuallydeveloped into the present hotel. He had been divorced in a WesternState by his wife "Rosalie, " locally known as "The Prairie Flower ofElkham Creek, " for incompatibility of temper! Her temper was not stated. 

Such was Abner Langworthy, the proprietor, as he moved leisurely downtowards the lady guest, who was nearest, and who was sitting with herback to the passage between the tables. Stopping, occasionally, toprofessionally adjust the tablecloths and glasses, he at last reachedher side. 

"Ef there's anythin' more ye want that ye ain't seein', ma'am, " hebegan--and stopped suddenly. For the lady had looked up at the sound ofhis voice. It was his divorced wife, whom he had not seen since theirseparation. The recognition was instantaneous, mutual, and characterizedby perfect equanimity on both sides. 

"Well! I wanter know!" said the lady, although the exclamation point waspurely conventional. "Abner Langworthy! though perhaps I've no call tosay 'Abner. '"

"Same to you, Rosalie--though I say it too, " returned the landlord. "Buthol' on just a minit. " He moved forward to the other guest, put the sameperfunctory question regarding his needs, received a negative answer, and then returned to the lady and dropped into a chair opposite to her. 

"You're looking peart and--fleshy, " he said resignedly, as if he weretolerating his own conventional politeness with his other difficulties;"unless, " he added cautiously, "you're takin' on some new disease. "

"No! I'm fairly comf'ble, " responded the lady calmly, "and you'regettin' on in the vale, ez is natural--though you still kind o' run tobone, as you used. "

There was not a trace of malevolence in either of their comments, onlya resigned recognition of certain unpleasant truths which seemed to havebeen habitual to both of them. Mr. Langworthy paused to flick away someflies from the butter with his professional napkin, and resumed, --

"It must be a matter o' five years sens I last saw ye, isn't it?--incourt arter you got the decree--you remember?"

"Yes--the 28th o' July, '51. I paid Lawyer Hoskins's bill that veryday--that's how I remember, " returned the lady. "You've got a bigbusiness here, " she continued, glancing round the room; "I reckon you'remakin' it pay. Don't seem to be in your line, though; but then, tharwasn't many things that was. "

"No--that's so, " responded Mr. Langworthy, nodding his head, asassenting to an undeniable proposition, "and you--I suppose you'regettin' on too. I reckon you're--er--married--eh?"--with a slightsuggestion of putting the question delicately. 

The lady nodded, ignoring the hesitation. "Yes, let me see, it's justthree years and three days. Constantine Byers--I don't reckon you knowhim--from Milwaukee. Timber merchant. Standin' timber's his specialty. "

"And I reckon he's--satisfactory?"

"Yes! Mr. Byers is a good provider--and handy. And you? I should sayyou'd want a wife in this business?"

Mr. Langworthy's serious half-perfunctory manner here took on anappearance of interest. "Yes--I've bin thinkin' that way. Thar's a youngwoman helpin' in the kitchen ez might do, though I'm not certain, andI ain't lettin' on anything as yet. You might take a look at her, Rosalie, --I orter say Mrs. Byers ez is, --and kinder size her up, andgimme the result. It's still wantin' seven minutes o' schedule timeafore the stage goes, and--if you ain't wantin' more food"--delicately, as became a landlord--"and ain't got anythin' else to do, it might passthe time. "

Strange as it may seem, Mrs. Byers here displayed an equal animation inher fresh face as she rose promptly to her feet and began to rearrangeher dust cloak around her buxom figure. "I don't mind, Abner, " shesaid, "and I don't think that Mr. Byers would mind either;" then seeingLangworthy hesitating at the latter unexpected suggestion, she addedconfidently, "and I wouldn't mind even if he did, for I'm sure if Idon't know the kind o' woman you'd be likely to need, I don't know whowould. Only last week I was sayin' like that to Mr. Byers"--

"To Mr. Byers?" said Abner, with some surprise. 

"Yes--to him. I said, 'We've been married three years, Constantine, andef I don't know by this time what kind o' woman you need now--and mightneed in future--why, thar ain't much use in matrimony. '"

"You was always wise, Rosalie, " said Abner, with reminiscentappreciation. 

"I was always there, Abner, " returned Mrs. Byers, with a complacent showof dimples, which she, however, chastened into that resignation whichseemed characteristic of the pair. "Let's see your 'intended'--as mightbe. "

Thus supported, Mr. Langworthy led Mrs. Byers into the hall through acrowd of loungers, into a smaller hall, and there opened the door of thekitchen. It was a large room, whose windows were half darkened by theencompassing pines which still pressed around the house on the scantilycleared site. A number of men and women, among them a Chinaman and anegro, were engaged in washing dishes and other culinary duties; andbeside the window stood a young blonde girl, who was wiping a tin panwhich she was also using to hide a burst of laughter evidently caused bythe abrupt entrance of her employer. A quantity of fluffy hair and partof a white, bared arm were nevertheless visible outside the disk, and Mrs. Byers gathered from the direction of Mr. Langworthy's eyes, assisted by a slight nudge from his elbow, that this was the selectedfair one. His feeble explanatory introduction, addressed to theoccupants generally, "Just showing the house to Mrs. --er--Dusenberry, "convinced her that the circumstances of his having been divorced he hadnot yet confided to the young woman. As he turned almost immediatelyaway, Mrs. Byers in following him managed to get a better look at thegirl, as she was exchanging some facetious remark to a neighbor. Mr. Langworthy did not speak until they had reached the deserted dining-roomagain. 

"Well?" he said briefly, glancing at the clock, "what did ye think o'Mary Ellen?"

To any ordinary observer the girl in question would have seemed theleast fitted in age, sobriety of deportment, and administrative capacityto fill the situation thus proposed for her, but Mrs. Byers was not anordinary observer, and her auditor was not an ordinary listener. 

"She's older than she gives herself out to be, " said Mrs. Byerstentatively, "and them kitten ways don't amount to much. "

Mr. Langworthy nodded. Had Mrs. Byers discovered a homicidal tendency inMary Ellen he would have been equally unmoved. 

"She don't handsome much, " continued Mrs. Byers musingly, "but"--

"I never was keen on good looks in a woman, Rosalie. You know that!"Mrs. Byers received the equivocal remark unemotionally, and returned tothe subject. 

"Well!" she said contemplatively, "I should think you could make hersuit. "

Mr. Langworthy nodded with resigned toleration of all that might haveinfluenced her judgment and his own. "I was wantin' a fa'r-mindedopinion, Rosalie, and you happened along jest in time. Kin I put upanythin' in the way of food for ye?" he added, as a stir outside and thewords "All aboard!" proclaimed the departing of the stage-coach, --"anorange or a hunk o' gingerbread, freshly baked?"

"Thank ye kindly, Abner, but I sha'n't be usin' anythin' afore supper, "responded Mrs. Byers, as they passed out into the veranda beside thewaiting coach. 

Mr. Langworthy helped her to her seat. "Ef you're passin' this wayag'in"--he hesitated delicately. 

"I'll drop in, or I reckon Mr. Byers might, he havin' business along theroad, " returned Mrs. Byers with a cheerful nod, as the coach rolled awayand the landlord of the Big Flume Hotel reentered his house. 

For the next three weeks, however, it did not appear that Mr. Langworthywas in any hurry to act upon the advice of his former wife. Hisrelations to Mary Ellen Budd were characterized by his usual toleranceto his employees' failings, --which in Mary Ellen's case included many"breakages, "--but were not marked by the invasion of any warmer feeling, or a desire for confidences. The only perceptible divergence from hisregular habits was a disposition to be on the veranda at the arrival ofthe stage-coach, and when his duties permitted this, a cautious surveyof his female guests at the beginning of dinner. This probably led tohis more or less ignoring any peculiarities in his masculine patrons ortheir claims to his personal attention. Particularly so, in the case ofa red-bearded man, in a long linen duster, both heavily freighted withthe red dust of the stage road, which seemed to have invaded his veryeyes as he watched the landlord closely. Towards the close of thedinner, when Abner, accompanied by a negro waiter after his usualcustom, passed down each side of the long table, collecting payment forthe meal, the stranger looked up. "You air the landlord of this hotel, Ireckon?"

"I am, " said Abner tolerantly. 

"I'd like a word or two with ye. "

But Abner had been obliged to have a formula for such occasions. "Ye'llpay for yer dinner first, " he said submissively, but firmly, "and makeyer remarks agin the food arter. "

The stranger flushed quickly, and his eye took an additional shade ofred, but meeting Abner's serious gray ones, he contented himself withostentatiously taking out a handful of gold and silver and paying hisbill. Abner passed on, but after dinner was over he found the strangerin the hall. 

"Ye pulled me up rather short in thar, " said the man gloomily, "but it'sjust as well, as the talk I was wantin' with ye was kinder betwixt andbetween ourselves, and not hotel business. My name's Byers, and my wifelet on she met ye down here. "

For the first time it struck Abner as incongruous that another manshould call Rosalie "his wife, " although the fact of her remarriagehad been made sufficiently plain to him. He accepted it as he would anearthquake, or any other dislocation, with his usual tolerant smile, andheld out his hand. 

Mr. Byers took it, seemingly mollified, and yet inwardlydisturbed, --more even than was customary in Abner's guests after dinner. 

"Have a drink with me, " he suggested, although it had struck him thatMr. Byers had been drinking before dinner. 

"I'm agreeable, " responded Byers promptly; "but, " with a glance at thecrowded bar-room, "couldn't we go somewhere, jest you and me, and have aquiet confab?"

"I reckon. But ye must wait till we get her off. "

Mr. Byers started slightly, but it appeared that the impedimental sex inthis case was the coach, which, after a slight feminine hesitation, wasat last started. Whereupon Mr. Langworthy, followed by a negro with atray bearing a decanter and glasses, grasped Mr. Byers's arm, and walkedalong a small side veranda the depth of the house, stepped off, andapparently plunged with his guest into the primeval wilderness. 

It has already been indicated that the site of the Big Flume Hotel hadbeen scantily cleared; but Mr. Byers, backwoodsman though he was, wasquite unprepared for so abrupt a change. The hotel, with its noisy crowdand garish newness, although scarcely a dozen yards away, seemed lostcompletely to sight and sound. A slight fringe of old tin cans, brokenchina, shavings, and even of the long-dried chips of the felled trees, once crossed, the two men were alone! From the tray, deposited at thefoot of an enormous pine, they took the decanter, filled their glasses, and then disposed of themselves comfortably against a spreading root. The curling tail of a squirrel disappeared behind them; the far-off tapof a woodpecker accented the loneliness. And then, almost magically asit seemed, the thin veneering of civilization on the two men seemed tobe cast off like the bark of the trees around them, and they loungedbefore each other in aboriginal freedom. Mr. Byers removed hisrestraining duster and undercoat. Mr. Langworthy resigned his dirtywhite jacket, his collar, and unloosed a suspender, with which heplayed. 

"Would it be a fair question between two fa'r-minded men, ez hez livedalone, " said Mr. Byers, with a gravity so supernatural that it could bereferred only to liquor, "to ask ye in what sort o' way did Mrs. Byersshow her temper?"

"Show her temper?" echoed Abner vacantly. 

"Yes--in course, I mean when you and Mrs. Byers was--was--one? You knowthe di-vorce was for in-com-pat-ibility of temper. "

"But she got the divorce from me, so I reckon I had the temper, " saidLangworthy, with great simplicity. 

"Wha-at?" said Mr. Byers, putting down his glass and gazing with drunkengravity at the sad-eyed yet good-humoredly tolerant man before him. "You?--you had the temper?"

"I reckon that's what the court allowed, " said Abner simply. 

Mr. Byers stared. Then after a moment's pause he nodded with asignificant yet relieved face. "Yes, I see, in course. Times when you'dh'isted too much o' this corn juice, " lifting up his glass, "insideye--ye sorter bu'st out ravin'?"

But Abner shook his head. "I wuz a total abstainer in them days, " hesaid quietly. 

Mr. Byers got unsteadily on his legs and looked around him. "Wot mighthev bin the general gait o' your temper, pardner?" he said in a hoarsewhisper. 

"Don't know. I reckon that's jest whar the incompatibility kem in. "

"And when she hove plates at your head, wot did you do?"

"She didn't hove no plates, " said Abner gravely; "did she say she did?"

"No, no!" returned Byers hastily, in crimson confusion. "I kinder gotit mixed with suthin' else. " He waved his hand in a lordly way, as ifdismissing the subject. "Howsumever, you and her is 'off' anyway, " headded with badly concealed anxiety. 

"I reckon: there's the decree, " returned Abner, with his usual resignedacceptance of the fact. 

"Mrs. Byers wuz allowin' ye wuz thinkin' of a second. How's that comin'on?"

"Jest whar it was, " returned Abner. "I ain't doin' anything yet. Ye seeI've got to tell the gal, naterally, that I'm di-vorced. And as thatisn't known hereabouts, I don't keer to do so till I'm pretty certain. And then, in course, I've got to. "

"Why hev ye 'got to'?" asked Byers abruptly. 

"Because it wouldn't be on the square with the girl, " said Abner. "Howwould you like it if Mrs. Byers had never told you she'd been married tome? And s'pose you'd happen to hev bin a di-vorced man and hadn't toldher, eh? Well, " he continued, sinking back resignedly against the tree, "I ain't sayin' anythin' but she'd hev got another di-vorce, and FROMyou on the spot--you bet!"

"Well! all I kin say is, " said Mr. Byers, lifting his voice excitedly, "that"--but he stopped short, and was about to fill his glass again fromthe decanter when the hand of Abner stopped him. 

"Ye've got ez much ez ye kin carry now, Byers, " he said slowly, "andthat's about ez much ez I allow a man to take in at the Big Flume Hotel. Treatin' is treatin', hospitality is hospitality; ef you and me wassquattin' out on the prairie I'd let you fill your skin with that pizenand wrap ye up in yer blankets afterwards. But here at Big Flume, theStage Kempenny and the wimen and children passengers hez their rights. "He paused a moment, and added, "And so I reckon hez Mrs. Byers, and Iain't goin' to send you home to her outer my house blind drunk. It'smighty rough on you and me, I know, but there's a lot o' roughness inthis world ez hez to be got over, and life, ez far ez I kin see, ain'tall a clearin'. "

Perhaps it was his good-humored yet firm determination, perhaps it washis resigned philosophy, but something in the speaker's manner affectedMr. Byers's alcoholic susceptibility, and hastened his descent from thepassionate heights of intoxication to the maudlin stage whither hewas drifting. The fire of his red eyes became filmed and dim, an equalmoisture gathered in his throat as he pressed Abner's hand with drunkenfervor. "Thash so! your thinking o' me an' Mish Byersh is like troofr'en', " he said thickly. "I wosh only goin' to shay that wotever MishByersh wosh--even if she wosh wife o' yours--she wosh--noble woman! Sucha woman, " continued Mr. Byers, dreamily regarding space, "can't have toomany husbands. "

"You jest sit back here a minit, and have a quiet smoke till I comeback, " said Abner, handing him his tobacco plug. "I've got to give thebutcher his order--but I won't be a minit. " He secured the decanter ashe spoke, and evading an apparent disposition of his companion to fallupon his neck, made his way with long strides to the hotel, as Mr. Byers, sinking back against the trees, began certain futile efforts tolight his unfilled pipe. 

Whether Abner's attendance on the butcher was merely an excuse towithdraw with the decanter, I cannot say. He, however, dispatched hisbusiness quickly, and returned to the tree. But to his surprise Mr. Byers was no longer there. He explored the adjacent woodland withnon-success, and no reply to his shouting. Annoyed but not alarmed, asit seemed probable that the missing man had fallen in a drunken sleep insome hidden shadows, he returned to the house, when it occurred to himthat Byers might have sought the bar-room for some liquor. But he wasstill more surprised when the barkeeper volunteered the informationthat he had seen Mr. Byers hurriedly pass down the side veranda into thehighroad. An hour later this was corroborated by an arriving teamster, who had passed a man answering to the description of Byers, "mor' 'nhalf full, " staggeringly but hurriedly walking along the road "twomiles back. " There seemed to be no doubt that the missing man hadtaken himself off in a fit of indignation or of extreme thirst. Either hypothesis was disagreeable to Abner, in his queer senseof responsibility to Mrs. Byers, but he accepted it with his usualgood-humored resignation. 

Yet it was difficult to conceive what connection this episode had inhis mind with his suspended attention to Mary Ellen, or why it shoulddetermine his purpose. But he had a logic of his own, and it seemed tohave demonstrated to him that he must propose to the girl at once. This was no easy matter, however; he had never shown her any previousattention, and her particular functions in the hotel, --the charge of thefew bedrooms for transient guests--seldom brought him in contact withher. His interview would have to appear to be a business one--which, however, he wished to avoid from a delicate consciousness of its truth. While making up his mind, for a few days he contented himself withgravely regarding her in his usual resigned, tolerant way, whenever hepassed her. Unfortunately the first effect of this was an audible gigglefrom Mary Ellen, later some confusion and anxiety in her manner, andfinally a demeanor of resentment and defiance. 

This was so different from what he had expected that he was obligedto precipitate matters. The next day was Sunday, --a day on which hisemployees, in turns, were allowed the recreation of being driven to BigFlume City, eight miles distant, to church, or for the day's holiday. In the morning Mary Ellen was astonished by Abner informing her that hedesigned giving her a separate holiday with himself. It must be admittedthat the girl, who was already "prinked up" for the enthrallment of theyouth of Big Flume City, did not appear as delighted with the change ofplan as a more exacting lover would have liked. Howbeit, as soon as thewagon had left with its occupants, Abner, in the unwonted disguise ofa full suit of black clothes, turned to the girl, and offering her hisarm, gravely proceeded along the side veranda across the mound of debrisalready described, to the adjacent wilderness and the very trees underwhich he and Byers had sat. 

"It's about ez good a place for a little talk, Miss Budd, " he said, pointing to a tree root, "ez ef we went a spell further, and it's handyto the house. And ef you'll jest say what you'd like outer the cupboardor the bar--no matter which--I'll fetch it to you. "

But Mary Ellen Budd seated herself sideways on the root, with her furledwhite parasol in her lap, her skirts fastidiously tucked about her feet, and glancing at the fatuous Abner from under her stack of fluffy hairand light eyelashes, simply shook her head and said that "she reckonedshe wasn't hankering much for anything" that morning. 

"I've been calkilatin' to myself, Miss Budd, " said Abner resignedly, "that when two folks--like ez you and me--meet together to kinderdiscuss things that might go so far ez to keep them together, if theyhez had anything of that sort in their lives afore, they ought to speakof it confidentially like together. "

"Ef any one o' them sneakin', soulless critters in the kitchen hez binslingin' lies to ye about me--or carryin' tales, " broke in Mary EllenBudd, setting every one of her thirty-two strong, white teeth togetherwith a snap, "well--ye might hev told me so to oncet without spilin' mySunday! But ez fer yer keepin' me a minit longer, ye've only got to payme my salary to-day and"--but here she stopped, for the astonishment inAbner's face was too plain to be misunderstood. 

"Nobody's been slinging any lies about ye, Miss Budd, " he said slowly, recovering himself resignedly from this last back-handed stroke of fate;"I warn't talkin' o' you, but myself. I was only allowin' to say that Iwas a di-vorced man. "

As a sudden flush came over Mary Ellen's brownish-white face whileshe stared at him, Abner hastened to delicately explain. "It wasn'tno onfaithfulness, Miss Budd--no philanderin' o' mine, but only'incompatibility o' temper. '"

"Temper--your temper!" gasped Mary Ellen. 

"Yes, " said Abner. 

And here a sudden change came over Mary Ellen's face, and she burst intoa shriek of laughter. She laughed with her hands slapping the sides ofher skirt, she laughed with her hands clasping her narrow, hollow waist, laughed with her head down on her knees and her fluffy hair tumblingover it. Abner was relieved, and yet it seemed strange to him that thisrevelation of his temper should provoke such manifest incredulity inboth Byers and Mary Ellen. But perhaps these things would be made plainto him hereafter; at present they must be accepted "in the day's work"and tolerated. 

"Your temper, " gurgled Mary Ellen. "Saints alive! What kind o' temper?"

"Well, I reckon, " returned Abner submissively, and selecting a wordto give his meaning more comprehension, --"I reckon it waskinder--aggeravokin'. "

Mary Ellen sniffed the air for a moment in speechless incredulity, andthen, locking her hands around her knees and bending forward, said, "Look here! Ef that old woman o' yours ever knew what temper was in aman; ef she's ever bin tied to a brute that treated her like a niggertill she daren't say her soul was her own; who struck her with hiseyes and tongue when he hadn't anythin' else handy; who made her lifemiserable when he was sober, and a terror when he was drunk; who atlast drove her away, and then divorced her for desertion--then--then shemight talk. But 'incompatibility o' temper' with you! Oh, go away--itmakes me sick!"

How far Abner was impressed with the truth of this, how far it promptedhis next question, nobody but Abner knew. For he said deliberately, "Iwas only goin' to ask ye, if, knowin' I was a di-vorced man, ye wouldmind marryin' me!"

Mary Ellen's face changed; the evasive instincts of her sex rose up. "Didn't I hear ye sayin' suthin' about refreshments, " she said archly. "Mebbe you wouldn't mind gettin' me a bottle o' lemming sody outer thebar!"

Abner got up at once, perhaps not dismayed by this diversion, anddeparted for the refreshment. As he passed along the side veranda therecollection of Mr. Byers and his mysterious flight occurred to him. Fora wild moment he thought of imitating him. But it was too late now--hehad spoken. Besides, he had no wife to fly to, and the thirsty orindignant Byers had--his wife! Fate was indeed hard. He returned withthe bottle of lemon soda on a tray and a resigned spirit equal to herdecrees. Mary Ellen, remarking that he had brought nothing for himself, archly insisted upon his sharing with her the bottle of soda, and evencoquettishly touched his lips with her glass. Abner smiled patiently. 

But here, as if playfully exhilarated by the naughty foaming soda, sheregarded him with her head--and a good deal of her blonde hair--verymuch on one side, as she said, "Do you know that all along o' you bein'so free with me in tellin' your affairs I kinder feel like just tellingyou mine?"

"Don't, " said Abner promptly. 

"Don't?" echoed Miss Budd. 

"Don't, " repeated Abner. "It's nothing to me. What I said about myselfis different, for it might make some difference to you. But nothing youcould say of yourself would make any change in me. I stick to what Isaid just now. "

"But, " said Miss Budd, --in half real, half simulated threatening, --"whatif it had suthin' to do with my answer to what you said just now?"

"It couldn't. So, if it's all the same to you, Miss Budd, I'd rather yewouldn't. "

"That, " said the lady still more archly, lifting a playful finger, "isyour temper. "

"Mebbe it is, " said Abner suddenly, with a wondering sense of relief. 

It was, however, settled that Miss Budd should go to Sacramento to visither friends, that Abner would join her later, when their engagementwould be announced, and that she should not return to the hotel untilthey were married. The compact was sealed by the interchange of afriendly kiss from Miss Budd with a patient, tolerating one from Abner, and then it suddenly occurred to them both that they might as wellreturn to their duties in the hotel, which they did. Miss Budd's entireouting that Sunday lasted only half an hour. 

A week elapsed. Miss Budd was in Sacramento, and the landlord of the BigFlume Hotel was standing at his usual post in the doorway during dinner, when a waiter handed him a note. It contained a single line scrawled inpencil:--

"Come out and see me behind the house as before. I dussent come in onaccount of her. C. BYERS. "

"On account of 'her'!" Abner cast a hurried glance around the tables. Certainly Mrs. Byers was not there! He walked in the hall and theveranda--she was not there. He hastened to the rendezvous evidentlymeant by the writer, the wilderness behind the house. Sure enough, Byers, drunk and maudlin, supporting himself by the tree root, staggeredforward, clasped him in his arms, and murmured hoarsely, --

"She's gone!"

"Gone?" echoed Abner, with a whitening face. "Mrs. Byers? Where?"

"Run away! Never come back no more! Gone!"

A vague idea that had been in Abner's mind since Byers's last visit nowtook awful shape. Before the unfortunate Byers could collect his senseshe felt himself seized in a giant's grasp and forced against the tree. 

"You coward!" said all that was left of the tolerant Abner--his evenvoice--"you hound! Did you dare to abuse her? to lay your vile hands onher--to strike her? Answer me. "

The shock--the grasp--perhaps Abner's words, momentarily silenced Byers. "Did I strike her?" he said dazedly; "did I abuse her? Oh, yes!" withdeep irony. "Certainly! In course! Look yer, pardner!"--he suddenlydragged up his sleeve from his red, hairy arm, exposing a blue cicatrixin its centre--"that's a jab from her scissors about three months ago;look yer!"--he bent his head and showed a scar along the scalp--"that'sher playfulness with a fire shovel! Look yer!"--he quickly opened hiscollar, where his neck and cheek were striped and crossed with adhesiveplaster--"that's all that was left o' a glass jar o' preserves--thepreserves got away, but some of the glass got stuck! That's when sheheard I was a di-vorced man and hadn't told her. "

"Were you a di-vorced man?" gasped Abner. 

"You know that; in course I was, " said Byers scornfully; "d'ye meantersay she didn't tell ye?"

"She?" echoed Abner vaguely. "Your wife--you said just now she didn'tknow it before. "

"My wife ez oncet was, I mean! Mary Ellen--your wife ez is to be, " saidByers, with deep irony. "Oh, come now. Pretend ye don't know! Hi there!Hands off! Don't strike a man when he's down, like I am. "

But Abner's clutch of Byers's shoulder relaxed, and he sank down to asitting posture on the root. In the meantime Byers, overcome by a senseof this new misery added to his manifold grievances, gave way to maudlinsilent tears. 

"Mary Ellen--your first wife?" repeated Abner vacantly. 

"Yesh!" said Byers thickly, "my first wife--shelected and picked outfer your shecond wife--by your first--like d----d conundrum. How wash It'know?" he said, with a sudden shriek of public expostulation--"thashwhat I wanter know. Here I come to talk with fr'en', like man to man, unshuspecting, innoshent as chile, about my shecond wife! Fr'en' dropsout, carryin' off the whiskey. Then I hear all o' suddent voice o'Mary Ellen talkin' in kitchen; then I come round softly and see MaryEllen--my wife as useter be--standin' at fr'en's kitchen winder. Then Ilights out quicker 'n lightnin' and scoots! And when I gets back home, I ups and tells my wife. And whosh fault ish't! Who shaid a man oughtertell hish wife? You! Who keepsh other mensh' first wivesh at kishenwinder to frighten 'em to tell? You!"

But a change had already come over the face of Abner Langworthy. Theanger, anxiety, astonishment, and vacuity that was there had vanished, and he looked up with his usual resigned acceptance of the inevitableas he said, "I reckon that's so! And seein' it's so, " with good-naturedtolerance, he added, "I reckon I'll break rules for oncet and stand yeanother drink. "

He stood another drink and yet another, and eventually put the doublywidowed Byers to bed in his own room. These were but details of a largertribulation, --and yet he knew instinctively that his cup was not yetfull. The further drop of bitterness came a few days later in a linefrom Mary Ellen: "I needn't tell you that all betwixt you and me is off, and you kin tell your old woman that her selection for a second wifefor you wuz about as bad as your own first selection. Ye kin tell Mr. Byers--yer great friend whom ye never let on ye knew--that when I wantanother husband I shan't take the trouble to ask him to fish one out forme. It would be kind--but confusin'. "

He never heard from her again. Mr. Byers was duly notified that Mrs. Byers had commenced action for divorce in another state in whichconcealment of a previous divorce invalidated the marriage, but he didnot respond. The two men became great friends--and assured celibates. Yet they always spoke reverently of their "wife, " with the touchingprefix of "our. "

"She was a good woman, pardner, " said Byers. 

"And she understood us, " said Abner resignedly. 

Perhaps she had. 

A BUCKEYE HOLLOW INHERITANCE

The four men on the "Zip Coon" Ledge had not got fairly settled to theirmorning's work. There was the usual lingering hesitation which is apt toattend the taking-up of any regular or monotonous performance, shown inthis instance in the prolonged scrutiny of a pick's point, the solemnselection of a shovel, or the "hefting" or weighing of a tapping-iron ordrill. One member, becoming interested in a funny paragraph he found inthe scrap of newspaper wrapped around his noonday cheese, shamelesslysat down to finish it, regardless of the prospecting pan thrown at himby another. They had taken up their daily routine of mining life likeschoolboys at their tasks. 

"Hello!" said Ned Wyngate, joyously recognizing a possible furtherinterruption. "Blamed if the Express rider ain't comin' here!"

He was shading his eyes with his hand as he gazed over the broadsun-baked expanse of broken "flat" between them and the highroad. Theyall looked up, and saw the figure of a mounted man, with a courier'sbag thrown over his shoulder, galloping towards them. It was reallyan event, as their letters were usually left at the grocery at thecrossroads. 

"I knew something was goin' to happen, " said Wyngate. "I didn't feel abit like work this morning. "

Here one of their number ran off to meet the advancing horseman. Theywatched him until they saw the latter rein up, and hand a brown envelopeto their messenger, who ran breathlessly back with it to the Ledge asthe horseman galloped away again. 

"A telegraph for Jackson Wells, " he said, handing it to the young manwho had been reading the scrap of paper. 

There was a dead silence. Telegrams were expensive rarities in thosedays, especially with the youthful Bohemian miners of the Zip CoonLedge. They were burning with curiosity, yet a singular thing happened. Accustomed as they had been to a life of brotherly familiarity andunceremoniousness, this portentous message from the outside world ofcivilization recalled their old formal politeness. They looked steadilyaway from the receiver of the telegram, and he on his part stammered anapologetic "Excuse me, boys, " as he broke the envelope. 

There was another pause, which seemed to be interminable to the waitingpartners. Then the voice of Wells, in quite natural tones, said, "Bygum! that's funny! Read that, Dexter, --read it out loud. "

Dexter Rice, the foreman, took the proffered telegram from Wells's hand, and read as follows:--

Your uncle, Quincy Wells, died yesterday, leaving you sole heir. Willattend you to-morrow for instructions. 

BAKER AND TWIGGS, Attorneys, Sacramento. 

The three miners' faces lightened and turned joyously to Wells; but HISface looked puzzled. 

"May we congratulate you, Mr. Wells?" said Wyngate, with affectedpoliteness; "or possibly your uncle may have been English, and a titlegoes with the 'prop, ' and you may be Lord Wells, or Very Wells--atleast. "

But here Jackson Wells's youthful face lost its perplexity, and he beganto laugh long and silently to himself. This was protracted to such anextent that Dexter asserted himself, --as foreman and senior partner. 

"Look here, Jack! don't sit there cackling like a chuckle-headed magpie, if you ARE the heir. "

"I--can't--help it, " gasped Jackson. "I am the heir--but you see, boys, there AIN'T ANY PROPERTY. "

"What do you mean? Is all that a sell?" demanded Rice. 

"Not much! Telegraph's too expensive for that sort o' feelin'. You see, boys, I've got an Uncle Quincy, though I don't know him much, and he MAYbe dead. But his whole fixin's consisted of a claim the size of ours, and played out long ago: a ramshackle lot o' sheds called a cottage, anda kind of market garden of about three acres, where he reared and soldvegetables. He was always poor, and as for calling it 'property, ' and MEthe 'heir'--good Lord!"

"A miser, as sure as you're born!" said Wyngate, with optimisticdecision. "That's always the way. You'll find every crack of thatblessed old shed stuck full of greenbacks and certificates of deposit, and lots of gold dust and coin buried all over that cow patch! And ofcourse no one suspected it! And of course he lived alone, and never letany one get into his house--and nearly starved himself! Lord love you!There's hundreds of such cases. The world is full of 'em!"

"That's so, " chimed in Pulaski Briggs, the fourth partner, "and I tellyou what, Jacksey, we'll come over with you the day you take possession, and just 'prospect' the whole blamed shanty, pigsties, and potato patch, for fun--and won't charge you anything. "

For a moment Jackson's face had really brightened under the infection ofenthusiasm, but it presently settled into perplexity again. 

"No! You bet the boys around Buckeye Hollow would have spotted anythinglike that long ago. "

"Buckeye Hollow!" repeated Rice and his partners. 

"Yes! Buckeye Hollow, that's the place; not twenty miles from here, anda God-forsaken hole, as you know. "

A cloud had settled on Zip Coon Ledge. They knew of Buckeye Hollow, andit was evident that no good had ever yet come out of that Nazareth. 

"There's no use of talking now, " said Rice conclusively. "You'll draw itall from that lawyer shark who's coming here tomorrow, and you can betyour life he wouldn't have taken this trouble if there wasn't suthin' init. Anyhow, we'll knock off work now and call it half a day, in honorof our distinguished young friend's accession to his baronial estatesof Buckeye Hollow. We'll just toddle down to Tomlinson's at thecross-roads, and have a nip and a quiet game of old sledge at Jacksey'sexpense. I reckon the estate's good for THAT, " he added, with severegravity. "And, speaking as a fa'r-minded man and the president ofthis yer Company, if Jackson would occasionally take out and air thattelegraphic dispatch of his while we're at Tomlinson's, it might dosomething for that Company's credit--with Tomlinson! We're wantin' somenew blastin' plant bad!"

Oddly enough the telegram--accidentally shown at Tomlinson's--produced agratifying effect, and the Zip Coon Ledge materially advanced inpublic estimation. With this possible infusion of new capital into itsresources, the Company was beset by offers of machinery and goods;and it was deemed expedient by the sapient Rice, that to prevent thedissemination of any more accurate information regarding Jackson'sproperty the next day, the lawyer should be met at the stage office byone of the members, and conveyed secretly past Tomlinson's to the Ledge. 

"I'd let you go, " he said to Jackson, "only it won't do for that d----dskunk of a lawyer to think you're too anxious--sabe? We want to rub intohim that we are in the habit out yer of havin' things left to us, anda fortin' more or less, falling into us now and then, ain't nothin'alongside of the Zip Coon claim. It won't hurt ye to keep up a big bluffon that hand of yours. Nobody would dare to 'call' you. "

Indeed this idea was carried out with such elaboration the next day thatMr. Twiggs, the attorney, was considerably impressed both by the conductof his guide, who (although burning with curiosity) expressed absoluteindifference regarding Jackson Wells's inheritance, and the calmness ofJackson himself, who had to be ostentatiously called from his work onthe Ledge to meet him, and who even gave him an audience in the hearingof his partners. Forced into an apologetic attitude, he expressed hisregret at being obliged to bother Mr. Wells with an affair of suchsecondary importance, but he was obliged to carry out the formalities ofthe law. 

"What do you suppose the estate is worth?" asked Wells carelessly. 

"I should not think that the house, the claim, and the land would bringmore than fifteen hundred dollars, " replied Twiggs submissively. 

To the impecunious owners of Zip Coon Ledge it seemed a large sum, butthey did not show it. 

"You see, " continued Mr. Twiggs, "it's really a case of 'willing away'property from its obvious or direct inheritors, instead of a beneficialgrant. I take it that you and your uncle were not particularlyintimate, --at least, so I gathered when I made the will, --and his simpleobject was to disinherit his only daughter, with whom he had had somequarrel, and who had left him to live with his late wife's brother, Mr. Morley Brown, who is quite wealthy and residing in the same township. Perhaps you remember the young lady?"

Jackson Wells had a dim recollection of this cousin, a hateful, red-haired schoolgirl, and an equally unpleasant memory of this otheruncle, who was purse-proud and had never taken any notice of him. Heanswered affirmatively. 

"There may be some attempt to contest the will, " continued Mr. Twiggs, "as the disinheriting of an only child and a daughter offends thesentiment of the people and of judges and jury, and the law makes sucha will invalid, unless a reason is given. Fortunately your uncle hasplaced his reasons on record. I have a copy of the will here, and canshow you the clause. " He took it from his pocket, and read as follows:"'I exclude my daughter, Jocelinda Wells, from any benefit or provisionof this my will and testament, for the reason that she has voluntarilyabandoned her father's roof for the house of her mother's brother, Morley Brown; has preferred the fleshpots of Egypt to the virtuousfrugalities of her own home, and has discarded the humble friends ofher youth, and the associates of her father, for the meretriciousand slavish sympathy of wealth and position. In lieu thereof, and ascompensation therefor, I do hereby give and bequeath to her my full andfree permission to gratify her frequently expressed wish for anotherguardian in place of myself, and to become the adopted daughter of thesaid Morley Brown, with the privilege of assuming the name of Brownas aforesaid. ' You see, " he continued, "as the young lady's presentposition is a better one than it would be if she were in her father'shouse, and was evidently a compromise, the sentimental consideration ofher being left homeless and penniless falls to the ground. However, asthe inheritance is small, and might be of little account to you, if youchoose to waive it, I dare say we may make some arrangement. "

This was an utterly unexpected idea to the Zip Coon Company, andJackson Wells was for a moment silent. But Dexter Rice was equal to theemergency, and turned to the astonished lawyer with severe dignity. 

"You'll excuse me for interferin', but, as the senior partner of thisyer Ledge, and Jackson Wells yer bein' a most important member, whataffects his usefulness on this claim affects us. And we propose to carryout this yer will, with all its dips and spurs and angles!"

As the surprised Twiggs turned from one to the other, Rice continued, "Ez far as we kin understand this little game, it's the just punishmentof a high-flying girl as breaks her pore old father's heart, and there-ward of a young feller ez has bin to our knowledge ez devoted anephew as they make 'em. Time and time again, sittin' around our campfire at night, we've heard Jacksey say, --kinder to himself, and kinderto us, 'Now I wonder what's gone o' old uncle Quincy;' and he neversat down to a square meal, or ever rose from a square game, but whathe allus said, 'If old uncle Quince was only here now, boys, I'd diehappy. ' I leave it to you, gentlemen, if that wasn't Jackson Wells'sgait all the time?"

There was a prolonged murmur of assent, and an affecting corroborationfrom Ned Wyngate of "That was him; that was Jacksey all the time!"

"Indeed, indeed, " said the lawyer nervously. "I had quite the idea thatthere was very little fondness"--

"Not on your side--not on your side, " said Rice quickly. "Uncle Quincymay not have anted up in this matter o' feelin', nor seen his nephew'srise. You know how it is yourself in these things--being a lawyer and afa'r-minded man--it's all on one side, ginerally! There's always one wholoves and sacrifices, and all that, and there's always one who rakes inthe pot! That's the way o' the world; and that's why, " continued Rice, abandoning his slightly philosophical attitude, and laying his handtenderly, and yet with a singularly significant grip, on Wells's arm, "we say to him, 'Hang on to that will, and uncle Quincy's memory. 'And we hev to say it. For he's that tender-hearted and keerless ofmoney--having his own share in this Ledge--that ef that girl camewhimperin' to him he'd let her take the 'prop' and let the hull thingslide! And then he'd remember that he had rewarded that gal that brokethe old man's heart, and that would upset him again in his work. Andthere, you see, is just where WE come in! And we say, 'Hang on to thatwill like grim death!'"

The lawyer looked curiously at Rice and his companions, and then turnedto Wells: "Nevertheless, I must look to you for instructions, " he saiddryly. 

But by this time Jackson Wells, although really dubious aboutsupplanting the orphan, had gathered the sense of his partners, and saidwith a frank show of decision, "I think I must stand by the will. "

"Then I'll have it proved, " said Twiggs, rising. "In the meantime, ifthere is any talk of contesting"--

"If there is, you might say, " suggested Wyngate, who felt he had not hada fair show in the little comedy, --"ye might say to that old skeesicksof a wife's brother, if he wants to nipple in, that there are four menon the Ledge--and four revolvers! We are gin'rally fa'r-minded, peacefulmen, but when an old man's heart is broken, and his gray hairs broughtdown in sorrow to the grave, so to speak, we're bound to attend thefuneral--sabe?"

When Mr. Twiggs had departed again, accompanied by a partner to guidehim past the dangerous shoals of Tomlinson's grocery, Rice clapped hishand on Wells's shoulder. "If it hadn't been for me, sonny, that sharkwould have landed you into some compromise with that red-haired gal! Isaw you weakenin', and then I chipped in. I may have piled up the agonya little on your love for old Quince, but if you aren't an ungratefulcub, that's how you ought to hev been feein', anyhow!"

Nevertheless, the youthful Wells, although touched by his elderpartner's loyalty, and convinced of his own disinterestedness, felt apainful sense of lost chivalrous opportunity. 

*****

On mature consideration it was finally settled that Jackson Wells shouldmake his preliminary examination of his inheritance alone, as it mightseem inconsistent with the previous indifferent attitude of hispartners if they accompanied him. But he was implored to yield to noblandishments of the enemy, and to even make his visit a secret. 

He went. The familiar flower-spiked trees which had given their nameto Buckeye Hollow had never yielded entirely to improvements and theincursions of mining enterprise, and many of them had even survived thedisused ditches, the scarred flats, the discarded levels, ruined flumes, and roofless cabins of the earlier occupation, so that when JacksonWells entered the wide, straggling street of Buckeye, that summermorning was filled with the radiance of its blossoms and fragrant withtheir incense. His first visit there, ten years ago, had been a purelyperfunctory and hasty one, yet he remembered the ostentatious hotel, built in the "flush time" of its prosperity, and already in a greenpremature decay; he recalled the Express Office and Town Hall, alsopassing away in a kind of similar green deliquescence; the little zincchurch, now overgrown with fern and brambles, and the two or three finesubstantial houses in the outskirts, which seemed to have sucked thevitality of the little settlement. One of these--he had been told--wasthe property of his rich and wicked maternal uncle, the hatedappropriator of his red-headed cousin's affections. He recalled hisbrief visit to the departed testator's claim and market garden, and hisby no means favorable impression of the lonely, crabbed old man, as wellas his relief that his objectionable cousin, whom he had not seen sincehe was a boy, was then absent at the rival uncle's. He made his wayacross the road to a sunny slope where the market garden of three acresseemed to roll like a river of green rapids to a little "run" or brook, which, even in the dry season, showed a trickling rill. But here he wasstruck by a singular circumstance. The garden rested in a rich, alluvialsoil, and under the quickening Californian sky had developed far beyondthe ability of its late cultivator to restrain or keep it in order. Everything had grown luxuriantly, and in monstrous size and profusion. The garden had even trespassed its bounds, and impinged upon the openroad, the deserted claims, and the ruins of the past. Stimulated by thelittle cultivation Quincy Wells had found time to give it, it hadleaped its three acres and rioted through the Hollow. There were scarletrunners crossing the abandoned sluices, peas climbing the court-housewall, strawberries matting the trail, while the seeds and pollen ofits few homely Eastern flowers had been blown far and wide through thewoods. By a grim satire, Nature seemed to have been the only thing thatstill prospered in that settlement of man. 

The cabin itself, built of unpainted boards, consisted of asitting-room, dining-room, kitchen, and two bedrooms, all plainlyfurnished, although one of the bedrooms was better ordered, anddisplayed certain signs of feminine decoration, which made Jacksonbelieve it had been his cousin's room. Luckily, the slight, temporarystructure bore no deep traces of its previous occupancy to disturb himwith its memories, and for the same reason it gained in cleanliness andfreshness. The dry, desiccating summer wind that blew through it hadcarried away both the odors and the sense of domesticity; even the adobehearth had no fireside tales to tell, --its very ashes had been scatteredby the winds; and the gravestone of its dead owner on the hill was nomore flavorless of his personality than was this plain house in which hehad lived and died. The excessive vegetation produced by the stirred-upsoil had covered and hidden the empty tin cans, broken boxes, andfragments of clothing which usually heaped and littered the tent-pegsof the pioneer. Nature's own profusion had thrust them into obscurity. Jackson Wells smiled as he recalled his sanguine partner's idea of atreasure-trove concealed and stuffed in the crevices of this tenement, already so palpably picked clean by those wholesome scavengers ofCalifornia, the dry air and burning sun. Yet he was not displeased atthis obliteration of a previous tenancy; there was the better chance forhim to originate something. He whistled hopefully as he lounged, withhis hands in his pockets, towards the only fence and gate that gave uponthe road. Something stuck up on the gate-post attracted his attention. It was a sheet of paper bearing the inscription in a large hand: "Noticeto trespassers. Look out for the Orphan Robber!" A plain signboard infaded black letters on the gate, which had borne the legend: "QuincyWells, Dealer in Fruit and Vegetables, " had been rudely altered in chalkto read: "Jackson Wells, Double Dealer in Wills and Codicils, " and theintimation "Bouquets sold here" had been changed to "Bequests stolehere. " For an instant the simple-minded Jackson failed to discoverany significance of this outrage, which seemed to him to be merelythe wanton mischief of a schoolboy. But a sudden recollection ofthe lawyer's caution sent the blood to his cheeks and kindledhis indignation. He tore down the paper and rubbed out the chalkinterpolation--and then laughed at his own anger. Nevertheless, he wouldnot have liked his belligerent partners to see it. 

A little curious to know the extent of this feeling, he entered one ofthe shops, and by one or two questions which judiciously betrayed hisownership of the property, he elicited only a tradesman's interest in apossible future customer, and the ordinary curiosity about a stranger. The barkeeper of the hotel was civil, but brief and gloomy. He had heardthe property was "willed away on account of some family quarrel which'warn't none of his'. " Mr. Wells would find Buckeye Hollow a mighty dullplace after the mines. It was played out, sucked dry by two or three bigmine owners who were trying to "freeze out" the other settlers, so asthey might get the place to themselves and "boom it. " Brown, who had thebig house over the hill, was the head devil of the gang! Wells felt hisindignation kindle anew. And this girl that he had ousted was Brown'sfriend. Was it possible that she was a party to Brown's designs to getthis three acres with the other lands? If so, his long-suffering unclewas only just in his revenge. 

He put all this diffidently before his partners on his return, and was alittle startled at their adopting it with sanguine ferocity. They hopedthat he would put an end to his thoughts of backing out of it. Such acourse now would be dishonorable to his uncle's memory. It was clearlyhis duty to resist these blasted satraps of capitalists; he wasprovidentially selected for the purpose--a village Hampden to withstandthe tyrant. "And I reckon that shark of a lawyer knew all about it whenhe was gettin' off that 'purp stuff' about people's sympathies with thegirl, " said Rice belligerently. "Contest the will, would he? Why, if wecaught that Brown with a finger in the pie we'd just whip up the boys onthis Ledge and lynch him. You hang on to that three acres and the gardenpatch of your forefathers, sonny, and we'll see you through!"

Nevertheless, it was with some misgivings that Wells consented thathis three partners should actually accompany him and see him put inpeaceable possession of his inheritance. His instinct told him thatthere would be no contest of the will, and still less any oppositionon the part of the objectionable relative, Brown. When the wagonwhich contained his personal effects and the few articles of furniturenecessary for his occupancy of the cabin arrived, the exaggeratedswagger which his companions had put on in their passage through thesettlement gave way to a pastoral indolence, equally half real, halfaffected. Lying on their backs under a buckeye, they permitted Rice tovoice the general sentiment. "There's a suthin' soothin' and dreamy inthis kind o' life, Jacksey, and we'll make a point of comin' here for acouple of days every two weeks to lend you a hand; it will be a mightygood change from our nigger work on the claim. "

In spite of this assurance, and the fact that they had voluntarily cometo help him put the place in order, they did very little beyond lendinga cheering expression of unqualified praise and unstinted advice. At theend of four hours' weeding and trimming the boundaries of the garden, they unanimously gave their opinion that it would be more systematic forhim to employ Chinese labor at once. 

"You see, " said Ned Wyngate, "the Chinese naturally take to this kind o'business. Why, you can't take up a china plate or saucer but you see'em pictured there working at jobs like this, and they kin live on greenthings and rice that cost nothin', and chickens. You'll keep chickens, of course. "

Jackson thought that his hands would be full enough with the garden, buthe meekly assented. 

"I'll get a pair--you only want two to begin with, " continued Wyngatecheerfully, "and in a month or two you've got all you want, and eggsenough for market. On second thoughts, I don't know whether you hadn'tbetter begin with eggs first. That is, you borry some eggs from oneman and a hen from another. Then you set 'em, and when the chickens arehatched out you just return the hen to the second man, and the eggs, when your chickens begin to lay, to the first man, and you've got yourchickens for nothing--and there you are. "

This ingenious proposition, which was delivered on the last slope ofthe domain, where the partners were lying exhausted from their work, wasbroken in upon by the appearance of a small boy, barefooted, sunburnt, and tow-headed, who, after a moment's hurried scrutiny of the group, threw a letter with unerring precision into the lap of Jackson Wells, and then fled precipitately. Jackson instinctively suspected he wasconnected with the outrage on his fence and gate-post, but as he hadavoided telling his partners of the incident, fearing to increase theirbelligerent attitude, he felt now an awkward consciousness mingled withhis indignation as he broke the seal and read as follows:--

SIR, --This is to inform you that although you have got hold of theproperty by underhanded and sneaking ways, you ain't no right to touchor lay your vile hands on the Cherokee Rose alongside the house, nor onthe Giant of Battles, nor on the Maiden's Pride by the gate--the samebeing the property of Miss Jocelinda Wells, and planted by her, underthe penalty of the Law. And if you, or any of your gang of ruffians, touches it or them, or any thereof, or don't deliver it up when calledfor in good order, you will be persecuted by them. 

AVENGER. 

It is to be feared that Jackson would have suppressed this also, but thekeen eyes of his partners, excited by the abruptness of the messenger, were upon him. He smiled feebly, and laid the letter before them. Buthe was unprepared for their exaggerated indignation, and with difficultyrestrained them from dashing off in the direction of the vanishedherald. "And what could you do?" he said. "The boy's only a messenger. "

"I'll get at that d----d skunk Brown, who's back of him, " said DexterRice. 

"And what then?" persisted Jackson, with a certain show of independence. "If this stuff belongs to the girl, I'm not certain I shan't give themup without any fuss. Lord! I want nothing but what the old man leftme--and certainly nothing of HERS. "

Here Ned Wyngate was heard to murmur that Jackson was one of thosemen who would lie down and let coyotes crawl over him if they firstpresented a girl's visiting card, but he was stopped by Rice demandingpaper and pencil. The former being torn from a memorandum book, and astub of the latter produced from another pocket, he wrote as follows:--

SIR, --In reply to the hogwash you have kindly exuded in your letter ofto-day, I have to inform you that you can have what you ask for MissWells, and perhaps a trifle on your own account, by calling thisafternoon on--Yours truly--

"Now, sign it, " continued Rice, handing him the pencil. 

"But this will look as if we were angry and wanted to keep the plants, "protested Wells. 

"Never you mind, sonny, but sign! Leave the rest to your partners, and when you lay your head on your pillow to-night return thanks to anoverruling Providence for providing you with the right gang of ruffiansto look after you!"

Wells signed reluctantly, and Wyngate offered to find a Chinaman in thegulch who would take the missive. "And being a Chinaman, Brown can doany cussin' or buck talk THROUGH him!" he added. 

The afternoon wore on; the tall Douglas pines near the water poolswheeled their long shadows round and halfway up the slope, and the sunbegan to peer into the faces of the reclining men. Subtle odors of mintand southern-wood, stragglers from the garden, bruised by their limbs, replaced the fumes of their smoked-out pipes, and the hammers of thewoodpeckers were busy in the grove as they lay lazily nibbling thefragrant leaves like peaceful ruminants. Then came the sound ofapproaching wheels along the invisible highway beyond the buckeyes, and then a halt and silence. Rice rose slowly, bright pin points in thepupils of his gray eyes. 

"Bringin' a wagon with him to tote the hull shanty away, " suggestedWyngate. 

"Or fetched his own ambulance, " said Briggs. 

Nevertheless, after a pause, the wheels presently rolled away again. 

"We'd better go and meet him at the gate, " said Rice, hitching hisrevolver holster nearer his hip. "That wagon stopped long enough to putdown three or four men. "

They walked leisurely but silently to the gate. It is probable that noneof them believed in a serious collision, but now the prospect had enoughpossibility in it to quicken their pulses. They reached the gate. But itwas still closed; the road beyond it empty. 

"Mebbe they've sneaked round to the cabin, " said Briggs, "and areholdin' it inside. "

They were turning quickly in that direction, when Wyngate said, "Hush!--some one's there in the brush under the buckeyes. "

They listened; there was a faint rustling in the shadows. 

"Come out o' that, Brown--into the open. Don't be shy, " called out Ricein cheerful irony. "We're waitin' for ye. "

But Briggs, who was nearest the wood, here suddenly uttered anexclamation, --"B'gosh!" and fell back, open-mouthed, upon hiscompanions. They too, in another moment, broke into a feeble laugh, andlapsed against each other in sheepish silence. For a very pretty girl, handsomely dressed, swept out of the wood and advanced towards them. 

Even at any time she would have been an enchanting vision to these men, but in the glow of exercise and sparkle of anger she was bewildering. Her wonderful hair, the color of freshly hewn redwood, had escaped fromher hat in her passage through the underbrush, and even as she sweptdown upon them in her majesty she was jabbing a hairpin into it with adexterous feminine hand. 

The three partners turned quite the color of her hair; Jackson Wellsalone remained white and rigid. She came on, her very short upper lipshowing her white teeth with her panting breath. 

Rice was first to speak. "I beg--your pardon, Miss--I thought it wasBrown--you know, " he stammered. 

But she only turned a blighting brown eye on the culprit, curled hershort lip till it almost vanished in her scornful nostrils, drew herskirt aside with a jerk, and continued her way straight to JacksonWells, where she halted. 

"We did not know you were--here alone, " he said apologetically. 

"Thought I was afraid to come alone, didn't you? Well, you see, I'm not. There!" She made another dive at her hat and hair, and brought the hatdown wickedly over her eyebrows. "Gimme my plants. "

Jackson had been astonished. He would have scarcely recognized in thiswillful beauty the red-haired girl whom he had boyishly hated, and withwhom he had often quarreled. But there was a recollection--and with thatrecollection came an instinct of habit. He looked her squarely in theface, and, to the horror of his partners, said, "Say please!"

They had expected to see him fall, smitten with the hairpin! But sheonly stopped, and then in bitter irony said, "Please, Mr. JacksonWells. "

"I haven't dug them up yet--and it would serve you just right if Imade you get them for yourself. But perhaps my friends here might helpyou--if you were civil. "

The three partners seized spades and hoes and rushed forward eagerly. "Only show us what you want, " they said in one voice. The young girlstared at them, and at Jackson. Then with swift determination she turnedher back scornfully upon him, and with a dazzling smile which reducedthe three men to absolute idiocy, said to the others, "I'll show YOU, "and marched away to the cabin. 

"Ye mustn't mind Jacksey, " said Rice, sycophantically edging to herside, "he's so cut up with losin' your father that he loved like a son, he isn't himself, and don't seem to know whether to ante up or pass out. And as for yourself, Miss--why--What was it he was sayin' only just asthe young lady came?" he added, turning abruptly to Wyngate. 

"Everything that cousin Josey planted with her own hands must be took upcarefully and sent back--even though it's killin' me to part with it, "quoted Wyngate unblushingly, as he slouched along on the other side. 

Miss Wells's eyes glared at them, though her mouth still smiledravishingly. "I'm sure I'm troubling you. "

In a few moments the plants were dug up and carefully laid together;indeed, the servile Briggs had added a few that she had not indicated. 

"Would you mind bringing them as far as the buggy that's coming downthe hill?" she said, pointing to a buggy driven by a small boy whichwas slowly approaching the gate. The men tenderly lifted the uprootedplants, and proceeded solemnly, Miss Wells bringing up the rear, towardsthe gate, where Jackson Wells was still surlily lounging. 

They passed out first. Miss Wells lingered for an instant, and thenadvancing her beautiful but audacious face within an inch of Jackson's, hissed out, "Make-believe! and hypocrite!"

"Cross-patch and sauce-box!" returned Jackson readily, still under themalign influence of his boyish past, as she flounced away. 

Presently he heard the buggy rattle away with his persecutor. But hispartners still lingered on the road in earnest conversation, and whenthey did return it was with a singular awkwardness and embarrassment, which he naturally put down to a guilty consciousness of their foolishweakness in succumbing to the girl's demands. 

But he was a little surprised when Dexter Rice approached him gloomily. "Of course, " he began, "it ain't no call of ours to interfere in familyaffairs, and you've a right to keep 'em to yourself, but if you'd beenfair and square and above board in what you got off on us about thisper--"

"What do you mean?" demanded the astonished Wells. 

"Well--callin' her a 'red-haired gal. '"

"Well--she is a red-haired girl!" said Wells impatiently. 

"A man, " continued Rice pityingly, "that is so prejudiced as to applysuch language to a beautiful orphan--torn with grief at the loss of abeloved but d----d misconstruing parent--merely because she begs a fewvegetables out of his potato patch, ain't to be reasoned with. But whenyou come to look at this thing by and large, and as a fa'r-minded man, sonny, you'll agree with us that the sooner you make terms with her thebetter. Considerin' your interest, Jacksey, --let alone the claims ofhumanity, --we've concluded to withdraw from here until this thing issettled. She's sort o' mixed us up with your feelings agin her, andnaturally supposed we object to the color of her hair! and bein' apenniless orphan, rejected by her relations"--

"What stuff are you talking?" burst in Jackson. "Why, YOU saw shetreated you better than she did me. "

"Steady! There you go with that temper of yours that frightened thegirl! Of course she could see that WE were fa'r-minded men, accustomedto the ways of society, and not upset by the visit of a lady, or thegivin' up of a few green sticks! But let that slide! We're goin' backhome to-night, sonny, and when you've thought this thing over and arestraightened up and get your right bearin's, we'll stand by you asbefore. We'll put a man on to do your work on the Ledge, so ye needn'tworry about that. "

They were quite firm in this decision, --however absurd or obscure theirconclusions, --and Jackson, after his first flash of indignation, felta certain relief in their departure. But strangely enough, while he hadhesitated about keeping the property when they were violently in favorof it, he now felt he was right in retaining it against their advice tocompromise. The sentimental idea had vanished with his recognition ofhis hateful cousin in the role of the injured orphan. And for the sameodd reason her prettiness only increased his resentment. He was notdeceived, --it was the same capricious, willful, red-haired girl. 

The next day he set himself to work with that dogged steadiness thatbelonged to his simple nature, and which had endeared him to hispartners. He set half a dozen Chinamen to work, and followed, althoughapparently directing, their methods. The great difficulty was torestrain and control the excessive vegetation, and he matched the smalleconomies of the Chinese against the opulence of the Californian soil. The "garden patch" prospered; the neighbors spoke well of it and ofhim. But Jackson knew that this fierce harvest of early spring was to befollowed by the sterility of the dry season, and that irrigation couldalone make his work profitable in the end. He brought a pump to forcethe water from the little stream at the foot of the slope to the top, and allowed it to flow back through parallel trenches. Again Buckeyeapplauded! Only the gloomy barkeeper shook his head. "The moment you getthat thing to pay, Mr. Wells, you'll find the hand of Brown, somewhere, getting ready to squeeze it dry!"

But Jackson Wells did not trouble himself about Brown, whom he scarcelyknew. Once indeed, while trenching the slope, he was conscious that hewas watched by two men from the opposite bank; but they were apparentlysatisfied by their scrutiny, and turned away. Still less did he concernhimself with the movements of his cousin, who once or twice passed himsuperciliously in her buggy on the road. Again, she met him as one ofa cavalcade of riders, mounted on a handsome but ill-tempered mustang, which she was managing with an ill-temper and grace equal to thebrute's, to the alternate delight and terror of her cavalier. He couldsee that she had been petted and spoiled by her new guardian and hisfriends far beyond his conception. But why she should grudge him thelittle garden and the pastoral life for which she was so unsuited, puzzled him greatly. 

One afternoon he was working near the road, when he was startled byan outcry from his Chinese laborers, their rapid dispersal from thestrawberry beds where they were working, the splintering crash of hisfence rails, and a commotion among the buckeyes. Furious at what seemedto him one of the usual wanton attacks upon coolie labor, he seizedhis pick and ran to their assistance. But he was surprised to findJocelinda's mustang caught by the saddle and struggling between twotrees, and its unfortunate mistress lying upon the strawberry bed. Shocked but cool-headed, Jackson released the horse first, who waslashing out and destroying everything within his reach, and then turnedto his cousin. But she had already lifted herself to her elbow, andwith a trickle of blood and mud on one fair cheek was surveying himscornfully under her tumbled hair and hanging hat. 

"You don't suppose I was trespassing on your wretched patch again, doyou?" she said in a voice she was trying to keep from breaking. "It wasthat brute--who bolted. "

"I don't suppose you were bullying ME this time, " he said, "but you wereYOUR HORSE--or it wouldn't have happened. Are you hurt?"

She tried to move; he offered her his hand, but she shied from it andstruggled to her feet. She took a step forward--but limped. 

"If you don't want my arm, let me call a Chinaman, " he suggested. 

She glared at him. "If you do I'll scream!" she said in a low voice, andhe knew she would. But at the same moment her face whitened, at which heslipped his arm under hers in a dexterous, business-like way, so as tosupport her weight. Then her hat got askew, and down came a long braidover his shoulder. He remembered it of old, only it was darker than thenand two or three feet longer. 

"If you could manage to limp as far as the gate and sit down on thebank, I'd get your horse for you, " he said. "I hitched it to a sapling. "

"I saw you did--before you even offered to help me, " she saidscornfully. 

"The horse would have got away--YOU couldn't. "

"If you only knew how I hated you, " she said, with a white face, but atrembling lip. 

"I don't see how that would make things any better, " he said. "Betterwipe your face; it's scratched and muddy, and you've been rubbing yournose in my strawberry bed. "

She snatched his proffered handkerchief suddenly, applied it to herface, and said: "I suppose it looks dreadful. "

"Like a pig's, " he returned cheerfully. 

She walked a little more firmly after this, until they reached the gate. He seated her on the bank, and went back for the mustang. That beautifulbrute, astounded and sore from its contact with the top rail andbrambles, was cowed and subdued as he led it back. 

She had finished wiping her face, and was hurriedly disentanglingtwo stinging tears from her long lashes, before she threw back hishandkerchief. Her sprained ankle obliged him to lift her into the saddleand adjust her little shoe in the stirrup. He remembered when itwas still smaller. "You used to ride astride, " he said, a flood ofrecollection coming over him, "and it's much safer with your temper andthat brute. "

"And you, " she said in a lower voice, "used to be"--But the rest of hersentence was lost in the switch of the whip and the jump of her horse, but he thought the word was "kinder. "

Perhaps this was why, after he watched her canter away, he went back tothe garden, and from the bruised and trampled strawberry bed gathereda small basket of the finest fruit, covered them with leaves, added apaper with the highly ingenious witticism, "Picked up with you, " andsent them to her by one of the Chinamen. Her forcible entry movedLi Sing, his foreman, also chief laundryman to the settlement, toreminiscences:

"Me heap knew Missy Wells and ole man, who go dead. Ole man alleetime make chin music to Missy. Allee time jaw jaw--allee time makelows--allee time cuttee up Missy! Plenty time lockee up Missy topsidehouse; no can walkee--no can talkee--no hab got--how can get?--mustwashee washee allee same Chinaman. Ole man go dead--Missy all lighteenow. Plenty fun. Plenty stay in Blown's big house, top-side hill; Blownfirst-chop man. "

Had he inquired he might have found this pagan testimony, for once, corroborated by the Christian neighbors. 

But another incident drove all this from his mind. The littlestream--the life blood of his garden--ran dry! Inquiry showed that ithad been diverted two miles away into Brown's ditch! Wells's indignantprotest elicited a formal reply from Brown, stating that he owned theadjacent mining claims, and reminding him that mining rights to watertook precedence of the agricultural claim, but offering, by way ofcompensation, to purchase the land thus made useless and sterile. Jackson suddenly recalled the prophecy of the gloomy barkeeper. The end, had come! But what could the scheming capitalist want with the land, equally useless--as his uncle had proved--for mining purposes? Could itbe sheer malignity, incited by his vengeful cousin? But here he paused, rejecting the idea as quickly as it came. No! his partners were right!He was a trespasser on his cousin's heritage--there was no luck init--he was wrong, and this was his punishment! Instead of yieldinggracefully as he might, he must back down now, and she would never knowhis first real feelings. Even now he would make over the property toher as a free gift. But his partners had advanced him money from theirscanty means to plant and work it. He believed that an appeal to theirfeelings would persuade them to forego even that, but he shrank evenmore from confessing his defeat to THEM than to her. 

He had little heart in his labors that day, and dismissed the Chinamenearly. He again examined his uncle's old mining claim on the top ofthe slope, but was satisfied that it had been a hopeless enterpriseand wisely abandoned. It was sunset when he stood under the buckeyes, gloomily looking at the glow fade out of the west, as it had out of hisboyish hopes. He had grown to like the place. It was the hour, too, whenthe few flowers he had cultivated gave back their pleasant odors, as ifgrateful for his care. And then he heard his name called. 

It was his cousin, standing a few yards from him in evident hesitation. She was quite pale, and for a moment he thought she was still sufferingfrom her fall, until he saw in her nervous, half-embarrassed manner thatit had no physical cause. Her old audacity and anger seemed gone, yetthere was a queer determination in her pretty brows. 

"Good-evening, " he said. 

She did not return his greeting, but pulling uneasily at her glove, saidhesitatingly: "Uncle has asked you to sell him this land?"

"Yes. "

"Well--don't!" she burst out abruptly. 

He stared at her. 

"Oh, I'm not trying to keep you here, " she went on, flashing back intoher old temper; "so you needn't stare like that. I say, 'Don't, ' becauseit ain't right, it ain't fair. "

"Why, he's left me no alternative, " he said. 

"That's just it--that's why it's mean and low. I don't care if he is ouruncle. "

Jackson was bewildered and shocked. 

"I know it's horrid to say it, " she said, with a white face; "but it'shorrider to keep it in! Oh, Jack! when we were little, and used to fightand quarrel, I never was mean--was I? I never was underhanded--was I?I never lied--did I? And I can't lie now. Jack, " she looked hurriedlyaround her, "HE wants to get hold of the land--HE thinks there's gold inthe slope and bank by the stream. He says dad was a fool to have locatedhis claim so high up. Jack! did you ever prospect the bank?"

A dawning of intelligence came upon Jackson. "No, " he said; "but, " headded bitterly, "what's the use? He owns the water now, --I couldn't workit. "

"But, Jack, IF you found the color, this would be a MINING claim! Youcould claim the water right; and, as it's your land, your claim would befirst!"

Jackson was startled. "Yes, IF I found the color. "

"You WOULD find it. "

"WOULD?"

"Yes! I DID--on the sly! Yesterday morning on your slope by the stream, when no one was up! I washed a panful and got that. " She took a piece oftissue paper from her pocket, opened it, and shook into her little palmthree tiny pin points of gold. 

"And that was your own idea, Jossy?"

"Yes!"

"Your very own?"

"Honest Injin!"

"Wish you may die?"

"True, O King!"

He opened his arms, and they mutually embraced. Then they separated, taking hold of each other's hands solemnly, and falling back until theywere at arm's length. Then they slowly extended their arms sideways atfull length, until this action naturally brought their faces and lipstogether. They did this with the utmost gravity three times, and thenembraced again, rocking on pivoted feet like a metronome. Alas! it wasno momentary inspiration. The most casual and indifferent observercould see that it was the result of long previous practice and shamelessexperience. And as such--it was a revelation and an explanation. 

*****

"I always suspected that Jackson was playin' us about that red-hairedcousin, " said Rice two weeks later; "but I can't swallow that purp stuffabout her puttin' him up to that dodge about a new gold discovery ona fresh claim, just to knock out Brown. No, sir. He found that gold inopenin' these irrigatin' trenches, --the usual nigger luck, findin' whatyou're not lookin' arter. "

"Well, we can't complain, for he's offered to work it on shares withus, " said Briggs. 

"Yes--until he's ready to take in another partner. "

"Not--Brown?" said his horrified companions. 

"No!--but Brown's adopted daughter--that red-haired cousin!"

THE REINCARNATION OF SMITH

The extravagant supper party by which Mr. James Farendell celebrated thelast day of his bachelorhood was protracted so far into the night, that the last guest who parted from him at the door of the principalSacramento restaurant was for a moment impressed with the belief thata certain ruddy glow in the sky was already the dawn. But Mr. Farendellhad kept his head clear enough to recognize it as the light of someburning building in a remote business district, a not infrequentoccurrence in the dry season. When he had dismissed his guest he turnedaway in that direction for further information. His own counting-housewas not in that immediate neighborhood, but Sacramento had been oncebefore visited by a rapid and far-sweeping conflagration, and itbehooved him to be on the alert even on this night of festivity. 

Perhaps also a certain anxiety arose out of the occasion. He was to bemarried to-morrow to the widow of his late partner, and themarriage, besides being an attractive one, would settle many businessdifficulties. He had been a fortunate man, but, like many more fortunatemen, was not blind to the possibilities of a change of luck. The deathof his partner in a successful business had at first seemed to betokenthat change, but his successful, though hasty, courtship of theinexperienced widow had restored his chances without greatly shockingthe decorum of a pioneer community. Nevertheless, he was not a contentedman, and hardly a determined--although an energetic one. 

A walk of a few moments brought him to the levee of the river, --afavored district, where his counting-house, with many others, wasconveniently situated. In these early days only a few of these buildingscould be said to be permanent, --fire and flood perpetually threatenedthem. They were merely temporary structures of wood, or in the caseof Mr. Farendell's office, a shell of corrugated iron, sheathinga one-storied wooden frame, more or less elaborate in its interiordecorations. By the time he had reached it, the distant fire hadincreased. On his way he had met and recognized many of his businessacquaintances hurrying thither, --some to save their own property, orto assist the imperfectly equipped volunteer fire department in theirunselfish labors. It was probably Mr. Farendell's peculiar preoccupationon that particular night which had prevented his joining in theirbrotherly zeal. 

He unlocked the iron door, and lit the hanging lamp that was used inall-night sittings on steamer days. It revealed a smartly furnishedoffice, with a high desk for his clerks, and a smaller one for himselfin one corner. In the centre of the wall stood a large safe. This healso unlocked and took out a few important books, as well as a smalldrawer containing gold coin and dust to the amount of about five hundreddollars, the large balance having been deposited in bank on the previousday. The act was only precautionary, as he did not exhibit any haste inremoving them to a place of safety, and remained meditatively absorbedin looking over a packet of papers taken from the same drawer. Theclosely shuttered building, almost hermetically sealed against light, and perhaps sound, prevented his observing the steadily increasing lightof the conflagration, or hearing the nearer tumult of the firemen, andthe invasion of his quiet district by other equally solicitous tenants. The papers seemed also to possess some importance, for, the stillnessbeing suddenly broken by the turning of the handle of the heavy door hehad just closed, and its opening with difficulty, his first act wasto hurriedly conceal them, without apparently paying a thought to theexposed gold before him. And his expression and attitude in facinground towards the door was quite as much of nervous secretiveness as ofindignation at the interruption. 

Yet the intruder appeared, though singular, by no means formidable. Hewas a man slightly past the middle age, with a thin face, hollowed atthe cheeks and temples as if by illness or asceticism, and a grayishbeard that encircled his throat like a soiled worsted "comforter" belowhis clean-shaven chin and mouth. His manner was slow and methodical, andeven when he shot the bolt of the door behind him, the act did not seemaggressive. Nevertheless Mr. Farendell half rose with his hand onhis pistol-pocket, but the stranger merely lifted his own hand witha gesture of indifferent warning, and, drawing a chair towards him, dropped into it deliberately. 

Mr. Farendell's angry stare changed suddenly to one of surprisedrecognition. "Josh Scranton, " he said hesitatingly. 

"I reckon, " responded the stranger slowly. "That's the name I allusbore, and YOU called yourself Farendell. Well, we ain't seen each othersens the spring o' '50, when ye left me lying nigh petered out withchills and fever on the Stanislaus River, and sold the claim that me andDuffy worked under our very feet, and skedaddled for 'Frisco!"

"I only exercised my right as principal owner, and to secure myadvances, " began the late Mr. Farendell sharply. 

But again the thin hand was raised, this time with a slow, scornfulwaiving of any explanations. "It ain't that in partickler that I've kemto see ye for to-night, " said the stranger slowly, "nor it ain't aboutyour takin' the name o' 'Farendell, ' that friend o' yours who died onthe passage here with ye, and whose papers ye borrowed! Nor it ain'ton account o' that wife of yours ye left behind in Missouri, and whoseletters you never answered. It's them things all together--and suthin'else!"

"What the d---l do you want, then?" said Farendell, with a desperatedirectness that was, however, a tacit confession of the truth of theseaccusations. 

"Yer allowin' that ye'll get married tomorrow?" said Scranton slowly. 

"Yes, and be d----d to you, " said Farendell fiercely. 

"Yer NOT, " returned Scranton. "Not if I knows it. Yer goin' to climbdown. Yer goin' to get up and get! Yer goin' to step down and out! Yergoin' to shut up your desk and your books and this hull consarn insideof an hour, and vamose the ranch. Arter an hour from now thar won't beany Mr. Farendell, and no weddin' to-morrow. "

"If that's your game--perhaps you'd like to murder me at once?" saidFarendell with a shifting eye, as his hand again moved towards hisrevolver. 

But again the thin hand of the stranger was also lifted. "We ain't inthe business o' murderin' or bein' murdered, or we might hev kem heretogether, me and Duffy. Now if anything happens to me Duffy will beleft, and HE'S got the proofs. "

Farendell seemed to recognize the fact with the same directness. "That'sit, is it?" he said bluntly. "Well, how much do you want? Only, I warnyou that I haven't much to give. "

"Wotever you've got, if it was millions, it ain't enough to buy us up, and ye ought to know that by this time, " responded Scranton, witha momentary flash in his eyes. But the next moment his previouspassionless deliberation returned, and leaning his arm on the desk ofthe man before him he picked up a paperweight carelessly and turned itover as he said slowly, "The fact is, Mr. Farendell, you've been makingus, me and Duffy, tired. We've bin watchin' you and your doin's, lyin'low and sayin' nothin', till we concluded that it was about time youhanded in your checks and left the board. We ain't wanted nothin' ofye, we ain't begrudged ye nothin', but we've allowed that this yer thingmust stop. "

"And what if I refuse?" said Farendell. 

"Thar'll be some cussin' and a big row from YOU, I kalkilate--and maybesome fightin' all round, " said Scranton dispassionately. "But it will beall the same in the end. The hull thing will come out, and you'll hevto slide just the same. T'otherwise, ef ye slide out NOW, it's without arow. "

"And do you suppose a business man like me can disappear without a fussover it?" said Farendell angrily. "Are you mad?"

"I reckon the hole YOU'LL make kin be filled up, " said Scranton dryly. "But ef ye go NOW, you won't be bothered by the fuss, while if you stayyou'll have to face the music, and go too!"

Farendell was silent. Possibly the truth of this had long since beenborne upon him. No one but himself knew the incessant strain of theseyears of evasion and concealment, and how he often had been near tosome such desperate culmination. The sacrifice offered to him was not, therefore, so great as it might have seemed. The knowledge of thismight have given him a momentary superiority over his antagonist hadScranton's motive been a purely selfish or malignant one, but as it wasnot, and as he may have had some instinctive idea of Farendell's feelingalso, it made his ultimatum appear the more passionless and fateful. And it was this quality which perhaps caused Farendell to burst out withdesperate abruptness, --

"What in h-ll ever put you up to this!"

Scranton folded his arms upon Farendell's desk, and slowly wiping hisclean jaw with one hand, repeated deliberately, "Wall--I reckon I toldye that before! You've been making us--me and Duffy--tired!" He pausedfor a moment, and then, rising abruptly, with a careless gesture towardsthe uncovered tray of gold, said, "Come! ye kin take enuff o' that toget away with; the less ye take, though, the less likely you'll be to befollowed!"

He went to the door, unlocked and opened it. A strange light, as ofa lurid storm interspersed by sheet-like lightning, filled the outerdarkness, and the silence was now broken by dull crashes and nearercries and shouting. A few figures were also dimly flitting around theneighboring empty offices, some of which, like Farendell's, had beenentered by their now alarmed owners. 

"You've got a good chance now, " continued Scranton; "ye couldn't hev abetter. It's a big fire--a scorcher--and jest the time for a man to wipehimself out and not be missed. Make tracks where the crowd is thickestand whar ye're likely to be seen, ez ef ye were helpin'! Ther' 'll beother men missed tomorrow beside you, " he added with grim significance;"but nobody'll know that you was one who really got away. "

Where the imperturbable logic of the strange man might have failed, the noise, the tumult, the suggestion of swift-coming disaster, andthe necessity for some immediate action of any kind, was convincing. Farendell hastily stuffed his pockets with gold and the papers he hadfound, and moved to the door. Already he fancied he felt the hotbreath of the leaping conflagration beyond. "And you?" he said, turningsuspiciously to Scranton. 

"When you're shut of this and clean off, I'll fix things and leavetoo--but not before. I reckon, " he added grimly, with a glance at thesky, now streaming with sparks like a meteoric shower, "thar won't bemuch left here in the morning. "

A few dull embers pattered on the iron roof of the low building andbounded off in ashes. Farendell cast a final glance around him, and thendarted from the building. The iron door clanged behind him--he was gone. 

Evidently not too soon, for the other buildings were already deserted bytheir would-be salvors, who had filled the streets with piles of booksand valuables waiting to be carried away. Then occurred a terriblephenomenon, which had once before in such disasters paralyzed theefforts of the firemen. A large wooden warehouse in the centre ofthe block of offices, many hundred feet from the scene of activeconflagration--which had hitherto remained intact--suddenly becameenveloped in clouds of smoke, and without warning burst as suddenlyfrom roof and upper story into vivid flame. There were eye-witnesses whodeclared that a stream of living fire seemed to leap upon it from theburning district, and connected the space between them with an arch ofluminous heat. In another instant the whole district was involved ina whirlwind of smoke and flame, out of whose seething vortex thecorrugated iron buildings occasionally showed their shriveling orglowing outlines. And then the fire swept on and away. 

When the sun again arose over the panic-stricken and devastated city, all personal incident and disaster was forgotten in the largercalamity. It was two or three days before the full particulars could begathered--even while the dominant and resistless energy of the peoplewas erecting new buildings upon the still-smoking ruins. It was only onthe third day afterwards that James Farendell, on the deck of a coastingsteamer, creeping out through the fogs of the Golden Gate, read thelatest news in a San Francisco paper brought by the pilot. As hehurriedly comprehended the magnitude of the loss, which was far beyondhis previous conception, he experienced a certain satisfaction infinding his position no worse materially than that of many of his fellowworkers. THEY were ruined like himself; THEY must begin their lifeafresh--but then! Ah! there was still that terrible difference. He drewhis breath quickly, and read on. Suddenly he stopped, transfixed bya later paragraph. For an instant he failed to grasp its fullsignificance. Then he read it again, the words imprinting themselves onhis senses with a slow deliberation that seemed to him as passionless asScranton's utterances on that fateful night. 

"The loss of life, it is now feared, is much greater than at firstimagined. To the list that has been already published we must add thename of James Farendell, the energetic contractor so well known toour citizens, who was missing the morning after the fire. His calcinedremains were found this afternoon in the warped and twisted iron shellof his counting-house, the wooden frame having been reduced to charcoalin the intense heat. The unfortunate man seems to have gone there toremove his books and papers, --as was evidenced by the iron safe beingfound open, --but to have been caught and imprisoned in the buildingthrough the heat causing the metal sheathing to hermetically seal thedoors and windows. He was seen by some neighbors to enter the buildingwhile the fire was still distant, and his remains were identified by hiskeys, which were found beneath him. A poignant interest is added to hisuntimely fate by the circumstance that he was to have been married onthe following day to the widow of his late partner, and that he had, at the call of duty, that very evening left a dinner party given tocelebrate the last day of his bachelorhood--or, as it has indeed proved, of his earthly existence. Two families are thus placed in mourning, andit is a singular sequel that by this untoward calamity the well-knownfirm of Farendell & Cutler may be said to have ceased to exist. "

Mr. Farendell started to his feet. But a lurch of the schooner as sherose on the long swell of the Pacific sent him staggering dizzily backto his seat, and checked his first wild impulse to return. He saw it allnow, --the fire had avenged him by wiping out his persecutor, Scranton, but in the eyes of his contemporaries it had only erased HIM! He mightreturn to refute the story in his own person, but the dead man's partnerstill lived with his secret, and his own rehabilitation could onlyrevive his former peril. 

*****

Four years elapsed before the late Mr. Farendell again set foot in thelevee of Sacramento. The steamboat that brought him from San Franciscowas a marvel to him in size, elegance, and comfort; so different fromthe little, crowded, tri-weekly packet he remembered; and it might, in amanner, have prepared him for the greater change in the city. But he wasastounded to find nothing to remind him of the past, --no landmark, noreven ruin, of the place he had known. Blocks of brick buildings, withthoroughfares having strange titles, occupied the district where hiscounting-house had stood, and even obliterated its site; equally strangenames were upon the shops and warehouses. In his four years' wanderingshe had scarcely found a place as unfamiliar. He had trusted to thegreat change in his own appearance--the full beard that he wore and thetanning of a tropical sun--to prevent recognition; but the precautionwas unnecessary, there were none to recognize him in the new faces whichwere the only ones he saw in the transformed city. A cautious allusionto the past which he had made on the boat to a fellow passenger hadbrought only the surprised rejoinder, "Oh, that must have been beforethe big fire, " as if it was an historic epoch. There was something ofpain even in this assured security of his loneliness. His obliterationwas complete. 

For the late Mr. Farendell had suffered some change of mind with hisother mutations. He had been singularly lucky. The schooner in which hehad escaped brought him to Acapulco, where, as a returning Californian, and a presumably successful one, his services and experience wereeagerly sought by an English party engaged in developing certain disusedMexican mines. As the post, however, was perilously near the routeof regular emigration, as soon as he had gained a sufficient sum heembarked with some goods to Callao, where he presently establishedhimself in business, resuming his REAL name--the unambitious butindistinctive one of "Smith. " It is highly probable that this prudentialact was also his first step towards rectitude. For whether the changewas a question of moral ethics, or merely a superstitious essay in luck, he was thereafter strictly honest in business. He became prosperous. He had been sustained in his flight by the intention that, if hewere successful elsewhere, he would endeavor to communicate with hisabandoned fiancee, and ask her to join him, and share not his name butfortune in exile. But as he grew rich, the difficulties of carrying outthis intention became more apparent; he was by no means certain of herloyalty surviving the deceit he had practiced and the revelation hewould have to make; he was doubtful of the success of any story whichat other times he would have glibly invented to take the place of truth. Already several months had elapsed since his supposed death; could heexpect her to be less accessible to premature advances now than whenshe had been a widow? Perhaps this made him think of the wife he haddeserted so long ago. He had been quite content to live without regretor affection, forgetting and forgotten, but in his present prosperityhe felt there was some need of putting his domestic affairs into a moresecure and legitimate shape, to avert any catastrophe like the last. HERE at least would be no difficulty; husbands had deserted their wivesbefore this in Californian emigration, and had been heard of only afterthey had made their fortune. Any plausible story would be accepted byHER in the joy of his reappearance; or if, indeed, as he reflectedwith equal complacency, she was dead or divorced from him through hisdesertion--a sufficient cause in her own State--and re-married, hewould at least be more secure. He began, without committing himself, by inquiry and anonymous correspondence. His wife, he learnt, had leftMissouri for Sacramento only a month or two after his own disappearancefrom that place, and her address was unknown!

A complication so unlooked for disquieted him, and yet whetted hiscuriosity. The only person she might meet in California who couldpossibly identify him with the late Mr. Farendell was Duffy; he hadoften wondered if that mysterious partner of Scranton's had beendeceived with the others, or had ever suspected that the body discoveredin the counting-house was Scranton's. If not, he must have accepted thestrange coincidence that Scranton had disappeared also the same night. In the first six months of his exile he had searched the Californianpapers thoroughly, but had found no record of any doubt having beenthrown on the accepted belief. It was these circumstances, and perhapsa vague fascination not unlike that which impels the malefactor to hauntthe scene of his crime, that, at the end of four years, had brought him, a man of middle age and assured occupation and fortune, back to the cityhe had fled from. 

A few days at one of the new hotels convinced him thoroughly that he wasin no danger of recognition, and gave him the assurance to take roomsmore in keeping with his circumstances and his own franklyavowed position as the head of a South American house. A cautiousacquaintance--through the agency of his banker--with a few business mengave him some occupation, and the fact of his South American lettersbeing addressed to Don Diego Smith gave a foreign flavor to hisindividuality, which his tanned face and dark beard had materiallyhelped. A stronger test convinced him how complete was the obliterationof his former identity. One day at the bank he was startled at beingintroduced by the manager to a man whom he at once recognized as aformer business acquaintance. But the shock was his alone; the formalapproach and unfamiliar manner of the man showed that he had failed torecognize even a resemblance. But would he equally escape detection byhis wife if he met her as accidentally, --an encounter not to be thoughtof until he knew something more of her? He became more cautious in goingto public places, but luckily for him the proportion of women to men wasstill small in California, and they were more observed than observing. 

A month elapsed; in that time he had thoroughly exhausted the localDirectories in his cautious researches among the "Smiths, " for in hisfear of precipitating a premature disclosure he had given up his formeranonymous advertising. And there was a certain occupation in thispersonal quest that filled his business time. He was in no hurry. He hada singular faith that he would eventually discover her whereabouts, beable to make all necessary inquiries into her conduct and habits, andperhaps even enjoy a brief season of unsuspected personal observationbefore revealing himself. And this faith was as singularly rewarded. 

Having occasion to get his watch repaired one day he entered a largejeweler's shop, and while waiting its examination his attention wasattracted by an ordinary old-fashioned daguerreotype case in the form ofa heart-shaped locket lying on the counter with other articles left forrepairs. Something in its appearance touched a chord in his memory; helifted the half-opened case and saw a much faded daguerreotypeportrait of himself taken in Missouri before he left in the Californianemigration. He recognized it at once as one he had given to his wife;the faded likeness was so little like his present self that he boldlyexamined it and asked the jeweler one or two questions. The man wascommunicative. Yes, it was an old-fashioned affair which had been leftfor repairs a few days ago by a lady whose name and address, written byherself, were on the card tied to it. 

Mr. James Smith had by this time fully controlled the emotion he felt ashe recognized his wife's name and handwriting, and knew that at lastthe clue was found! He laid down the case carelessly, gave the finaldirections for the repairs of his watch, and left the shop. The address, of which he had taken a mental note, was, to his surprise, very nearhis own lodgings; but he went straight home. Here a few inquiries ofhis janitor elicited the information that the building indicated in theaddress was a large one of furnished apartments and offices like hisown, and that the "Mrs. Smith" must be simply the housekeeper of thelandlord, whose name appeared in the Directory, but not her own. Yethe waited until evening before he ventured to reconnoitre the premises;with the possession of his clue came a slight cooling of his ardor andextreme caution in his further proceedings. The house--a reconstructedwooden building--offered no external indication of the rooms sheoccupied in the uniformly curtained windows that front the street. Yet he felt an odd and pleasurable excitement in passing once or twicebefore those walls that hid the goal of his quest. As yet he had notseen her, and there was naturally the added zest of expectation. Henoticed that there was a new building opposite, with vacant offices tolet. A project suddenly occurred to him, which by morning he had fullymatured. He hired a front room in the first floor of the new building, had it hurriedly furnished as a private office, and on the secondmorning of his discovery was installed behind his desk at the windowcommanding a full view of the opposite house. There was nothing strangein the South American capitalist selecting a private office in sopopular a locality. 

Two or three days elapsed without any result from his espionage. He cameto know by sight the various tenants, the two Chinese servants, and thesolitary Irish housemaid, but as yet had no glimpse of the housekeeper. She evidently led a secluded life among her duties; it occurred to himthat perhaps she went out, possibly to market, earlier than he came, or later, after he had left the office. In this belief he arrived onemorning after an early walk in a smart spring shower, the lingeringstraggler of the winter rains. There were few people astir, yet he hadbeen preceded for two or three blocks by a tall woman whose umbrellapartly concealed her head and shoulders from view. He had noticed, however, even in his abstraction, that she walked well, and managed thelifting of her skirt over her trim ankles and well-booted feet with somegrace and cleverness. Yet it was only on her unexpectedly turning thecorner of his own street that he became interested. She continued onuntil within a few doors of his office, when she stopped to give anorder to a tradesman, who was just taking down his shutters. He heardher voice distinctly; in the quick emotion it gave him he brushedhurriedly past her without lifting his eyes. Gaining his own doorwayhe rushed upstairs to his office, hastily unlocked it, and ran to thewindow. The lady was already crossing the street. He saw her pausebefore the door of the opposite house, open it with a latchkey, andcaught a full view of her profile in the single moment that she turnedto furl her umbrella and enter. It was his wife's voice he had heard; itwas his wife's face that he had seen in profile. 

Yet she was changed from the lanky young schoolgirl he had wedded tenyears ago, or, at least, compared to what his recollection of her hadbeen. Had he ever seen her as she really was? Surely somewhere in thattimid, freckled, half-grown bride he had known in the first year oftheir marriage the germ of this self-possessed, matured woman washidden. There was the tone of her voice; he had never recalled it beforeas a lover might, yet now it touched him; her profile he certainlyremembered, but not with the feeling it now produced in him. Would hehave ever abandoned her had she been like that? Or had HE changed, andwas this no longer his old self?--perhaps even a self SHE would neverrecognize again? James Smith had the superstitions of a gambler, andthat vague idea of fate that comes to weak men; a sudden fright seizedhim, and he half withdrew from the window lest she should observe him, recognize him, and by some act precipitate that fate. 

By lingering beyond the usual hour for his departure he saw her again, and had even a full view of her face as she crossed the street. Theyears had certainly improved her; he wondered with a certain nervousnessif she would think they had done the same for him. The complacency withwhich he had at first contemplated her probable joy at recovering himhad become seriously shaken since he had seen her; a woman as wellpreserved and good-looking as that, holding a certain responsibleand, no doubt, lucrative position, must have many admirers and beindependent. He longed to tell her now of his fortune, and yet shrankfrom the test its exposure implied. He waited for her return untildarkness had gathered, and then went back to his lodgings a littlechagrined and ill at ease. It was rather late for her to be out alone!After all, what did he know of her habits or associations? He recalledthe freedom of Californian life, and the old scandals relating to thelapses of many women who had previously led blameless lives in theAtlantic States. Clearly it behooved him to be cautious. Yet hewalked late that night before the house again, eager to see if she hadreturned, and with WHOM? He was restricted in his eagerness by thefear of detection, but he gathered very little knowledge of her habits;singularly enough nobody seemed to care. A little piqued at this, hebegan to wonder if he were not thinking too much of this woman to whomhe still hesitated to reveal himself. Nevertheless, he found himselfthat night again wandering around the house, and even watching with someanxiety the shadow which he believed to be hers on the window-blindof the room where he had by discreet inquiry located her. Whether hismemory was stimulated by his quest he never knew, but presently he wasable to recall step by step and incident by incident his early courtshipof her and the brief days of their married life. He even remembered theday she accepted him, and even dwelt upon it with a sentimental thrillthat he probably never felt at the time, and it was a distinct featureof his extraordinary state of mind and its concentration upon thisparticular subject that he presently began to look upon HIMSELF as theabandoned and deserted conjugal partner, and to nurse a feeling of deepinjury at her hands! The fact that he was thinking of her, and she, probably, contented with her lot, was undisturbed by any memory of him, seemed to him a logical deduction of his superior affection. 

It was, therefore, quite as much in the attitude of a reproachful andavenging husband as of a merely curious one that, one afternoon, seeingher issue from her house at an early hour, he slipped down the stairsand began to follow her at a secure distance. She turned into theprincipal thoroughfare, and presently made one of the crowd who wereentering a popular place of amusement where there was an afternoonperformance. So complete was his selfish hallucination, that he smiledbitterly at this proof of heartless indifference, and even so farovercame his previous caution as to actually brush by her somewhatrudely as he entered the building at the same moment. He was consciousthat she lifted her eyes a little impatiently to the face of the awkwardstranger; he was equally, but more bitterly, conscious that she had notrecognized him! He dropped into a seat behind her; she did not look athim again with even a sense of disturbance; the momentary contact hadevidently left no impression upon her. She glanced casually ather neighbors on either side, and presently became absorbed in theperformance. When it was over she rose, and on her way out recognizedand exchanged a few words with one or two acquaintances. Again heheard her familiar voice, almost at his elbow, raised with no moreconsciousness of her contiguity to him than if he were a mere ghost. The thought struck him for the first time with a hideous and appallingsignificance. What was he but a ghost to her--to every one! A man dead, buried, and forgotten! His vanity and self-complacency vanished beforethis crushing realization of the hopelessness of his existence. Dazedand bewildered, he mingled blindly and blunderingly with the departingcrowd, tossed here and there as if he were an invisible presence, stumbling over the impeding skirts of women with a vague apology theyheeded not, and which seemed in his frightened ears as hollow as a voicefrom the grave. 

When he at last reached the street he did not look back, but wanderedabstractedly through by-streets in the falling rain, scarcely realizingwhere he was, until he found himself drenched through, with his closedumbrella in his tremulous hand, standing at the half-submerged leveebeside the overflowed river. Here again he realized how completely hehad been absorbed and concentrated in his search for his wife during thelast three weeks; he had never been on the levee since his arrival. Hehad taken no note of the excitement of the citizens over the alarmingreports of terrible floods in the mountains, and the daily and hourlyfear that they experienced of disastrous inundation from the surchargedriver. He had never thought of it, yet he had read of it, and eventalked, and yet now for the first time in his selfish, blind absorptionwas certain of it. He stood still for some time, watching doggedly theenormous yellow stream laboring with its burden and drift from manya mountain town and camp, moving steadily and fatefully towards thedistant bay, and still more distant and inevitable ocean. For a fewmoments it vaguely fascinated and diverted him; then it as vaguely lentitself to his one dominant, haunting thought. Yes, it was pointing himthe only way out, --the path to the distant ocean and utter forgetfulnessagain!

The chill of his saturated clothing brought him to himself once more, he turned and hurried home. He went tiredly to his bedroom, and whilechanging his garments there came a knock at the door. It was theporter to say that a lady had called, and was waiting for him in thesitting-room. She had not given her name. 

The closed door prevented the servant from seeing the extraordinaryeffect produced by this simple announcement upon the tenant. Forone instant James Smith remained spellbound in his chair. It wascharacteristic of his weak nature and singular prepossession thathe passed in an instant from the extreme of doubt to the extreme ofcertainty and conviction. It was his wife! She had recognized him inthat moment of encounter at the entertainment; had found his address, and had followed him here! He dressed himself with feverish haste, not, however, without a certain care of his appearance and some selection ofapparel, and quickly forecast the forthcoming interview in his mind. For the pendulum had swung back; Mr. James Smith was once more theself-satisfied, self-complacent, and discreetly cautious husband that hehad been at the beginning of his quest, perhaps with a certain senseof grievance superadded. He should require the fullest explanations andguarantees before committing himself, --indeed, her present call might bean advance that it would be necessary for him to check. He even picturedher pleading at his feet; a very little stronger effort of his Alnascharimagination would have made him reject her like the fatuous Persianglass peddler. 

He opened the door of the sitting-room deliberately, and walked in witha certain formal precision. But the figure of a woman arose from thesofa, and with a slight outcry, half playful, half hysterical, threwherself upon his breast with the single exclamation, "Jim!" He startedback from the double shock. For the woman was NOT his wife! A womanextravagantly dressed, still young, but bearing, even through herartificially heightened color, a face worn with excitement, excess, andpremature age. Yet a face that as he disengaged himself from her armsgrew upon him with a terrible recognition, a face that he had oncethought pretty, inexperienced, and innocent, --the face of the widow ofhis former partner, Cutler, the woman he was to have married on the dayhe fled. The bitter revulsion of feeling and astonishment was evidentlyvisible in his face, for she, too, drew back for a moment as theyseparated. But she had evidently been prepared, if not patheticallyinured to such experiences. She dropped into a chair again with a drylaugh, and a hard metallic voice, as she said, --

"Well, it's YOU, anyway--and you can't get out of it. "

As he still stared at her, in her inconsistent finery, draggled andwet by the storm, at her limp ribbons and ostentatious jewelry, shecontinued, in the same hard voice, --

"I thought I spotted you once or twice before; but you took no notice ofme, and I reckoned I was mistaken. But this afternoon at the Temple ofMusic"--

"Where?" said James Smith harshly. 

"At the Temple--the San Francisco Troupe performance--where you brushedby me, and I heard your voice saying, 'Beg pardon!' I says, 'That's JimFarendell. '"

"Farendell!" burst out James Smith, half in simulated astonishment, halfin real alarm. 

"Well! Smith, then, if you like better, " said the woman impatiently;"though it's about the sickest and most played-out dodge of a name youcould have pitched upon. James Smith, Don Diego Smith!" she repeated, with a hysteric laugh. "Why, it beats the nigger minstrels all hollow!Well, when I saw you there, I said, 'That's Jim Farendell, or his twinbrother;' I didn't say 'his ghost, ' mind you; for, from the beginning, even before I knew it all, I never took any stock in that fool yarnabout your burnt bones being found in your office. "

"Knew all, knew what?" demanded the man, with a bravado which henevertheless felt was hopeless. 

She rose, crossed the room, and, standing before him, placed one handupon her hip as she looked at him with half-pitying effrontery. 

"Look here, Jim, " she began slowly, "do you know what you're doing?Well, you're making me tired!" In spite of himself, a half-superstitiousthrill went through him as her words and attitude recalled the deadScranton. "Do you suppose that I don't know that you ran away the nightof the fire? Do you suppose that I don't know that you were next toruined that night, and that you took that opportunity of skedaddlingout of the country with all the money you had left, and leaving folksto imagine you were burnt up with the books you had falsified and theaccounts you had doctored! It was a mean thing for you to do to me, Jim, for I loved you then, and would have been fool enough to run off withyou if you'd told me all, and not left me to find out that you had lostMY money--every cent Cutler had left me in the business--with the rest. "

With the fatuousness of a weak man cornered, he clung to unimportantdetails. "But the body was believed to be mine by every one, " hestammered angrily. "My papers and books were burnt, --there was noevidence. "

"And why was there not?" she said witheringly, staring doggedly in hisface. "Because I stopped it! Because when I knew those bones and ragsshut up in that office weren't yours, and was beginning to make a rowabout it, a strange man came to me and said they were the remains of afriend of his who knew your bankruptcy and had come that night to warnyou, --a man whom you had half ruined once, a man who had probably losthis life in helping you away. He said if I went on making a fuss he'dcome out with the whole truth--how you were a thief and a forger, and"--she stopped. 

"And what else?" he asked desperately, dreading to hear his wife's namenext fall from her lips. 

"And that--as it could be proved that his friend knew your secrets, "she went on in a frightened, embarrassed voice, "you might be accused ofmaking away with him. "

For a moment James Smith was appalled; he had never thought of this. Asin all his past villainy he was too cowardly to contemplate murder, he was frightened at the mere accusation of it. "But, " he stammered, forgetful of all save this new terror, "he KNEW I wouldn't be such afool, for the man himself told me Duffy had the papers, and killing himwouldn't have helped me. "

Mrs. Cutler stared at him a moment searchingly, and then turned wearilyaway. "Well, " she said, sinking into her chair again, "he said if I'dshut my mouth he'd shut his--and--I did. And this, " she added, throwing her hands from her lap, a gesture half of reproach and half ofcontempt, --"this is what I get for it. "

More frightened than touched by the woman's desperation, James Smithstammered a vague apologetic disclaimer, even while he was loathing witha revulsion new to him her draggled finery, her still more faded beauty, and the half-distinct consciousness of guilt that linked her to him. Butshe waved it away, a weary gesture that again reminded him of the deadScranton. 

"Of course I ain't what I was, but who's to blame for it? When you leftme alone without a cent, face to face with a lie, I had to do something. I wasn't brought up to work; I like good clothes, and you know itbetter than anybody. I ain't one of your stage heroines that go out asdependants and governesses and die of consumption, but I thought, " shewent on with a shrill, hysterical laugh, more painful than the wearinesswhich inevitably followed it, "I thought I might train myself to do it, ON THE STAGE! and I joined Barker's Company. They said I had a faceand figure for the stage; that face and figure wore out before I hadanything more to show, and I wasn't big enough to make better terms withthe manager. They kept me nearly a year doing chambermaids and fairyqueens the other side of the footlights, where I saw you today. Then Ikicked! I suppose I might have married some fool for his money, but Iwas soft enough to think you might be sending for me when you were safe. You seem to be mighty comfortable here, " she continued, with a bitterglance around his handsomely furnished room, "as 'Don Diego Smith. ' Ireckon skedaddling pays better than staying behind. "

"I have only been here a few weeks, " he said hurriedly. "I never knewwhat had become of you, or that you were still here"--

"Or you wouldn't have come, " she interrupted, with a bitter laugh. "Speak out, Jim. "

"If there--is anything--I can do--for you, " he stammered, "I'm sure"--

"Anything you can do?" she repeated, slowly and scornfully. "Anythingyou can do NOW? Yes!" she screamed, suddenly rising, crossing theroom, and grasping his arms convulsively. "Yes! Take me away fromhere--anywhere--at once! Look, Jim, " she went on feverishly, "letbygones be bygones--I won't peach! I won't tell on you--though I had itin my heart when you gave me the go-by just now! I'll do anything yousay--go to your farthest hiding-place--work for you--only take me out ofthis cursed place. "

Her passionate pleading stung even through his selfishness and loathing. He thought of his wife's indifference! Yes, he might be driven tothis, and at least he must secure the only witness against his previousmisconduct. "We will see, " he said soothingly, gently loosening herhands. "We must talk it over. " He stopped as his old suspiciousnessreturned. "But you must have some friends, " he said searchingly, "someone who has helped you. "

"None! Only one--he helped me at first, " she hesitated--"Duffy. "

"Duffy!" said James Smith, recoiling. 

"Yes, when he had to tell me all, " she said in half-frightened tones, "he was sorry for me. Listen, Jim! He was a square man, for all he wasdevoted to his partner--and you can't blame him for that. I think hehelped me because I was alone; for nothing else, Jim. I swear it! Hehelped me from time to time. Maybe he might have wanted to marry me ifhe had not been waiting for another woman that he loved, a married womanthat had been deserted years ago by her husband, just as you might havedeserted me if we'd been married that day. He helped her and paid forher journey here to seek her husband, and set her up in business. "

"What are you talking about--what woman?" stammered James Smith, with astrange presentiment creeping over him. 

"A Mrs. Smith. Yes, " she said quickly, as he started, "not a sham namelike yours, but really and truly SMITH--that was her husband's name!I'm not lying, Jim, " she went on, evidently mistaking the cause of thesudden contraction of the man's face. "I didn't invent her nor her name;there IS such a woman, and Duffy loves her--and HER only, and he never, NEVER was anything more than a friend to me. I swear it!"

The room seemed to swim around him. She was staring at him, but he couldsee in her vacant eyes that she had no conception of his secret, norknew the extent of her revelation. Duffy had not dared to tell all! Heburst into a coarse laugh. "What matters Duffy or the silly woman he'dtry to steal away from other men. "

"But he didn't try to steal her, and she's only silly because she wantsto be true to her husband while he lives. She told Duffy she'd nevermarry him until she saw her husband's dead face. More fool she, " sheadded bitterly. 

"Until she saw her husband's dead face, " was all that James Smith heardof this speech. His wife's faithfulness through years of desertion, herlong waiting and truthfulness, even the bitter commentary of the equallyinjured woman before him, were to him as nothing to what that singlesentence conjured up. He laughed again, but this time strangely andvacantly. "Enough of this Duffy and his intrusion in my affairs untilI'm able to settle my account with him. Come, " he added brusquely, "ifwe are going to cut out of this at once I've got much to do. Come hereagain to-morrow, early. This Duffy--does he live here?"

"No. In Marysville. "

"Good! Come early to-morrow. "

As she seemed to hesitate, he opened a drawer of his table and took outa handful of gold, and handed it to her. She glanced at it for a momentwith a strange expression, put it mechanically in her pocket, and thenlooking up at him said, with a forced laugh, "I suppose that means I amto clear out?"

"Until to-morrow, " he said shortly. 

"If the Sacramento don't sweep us away before then, " she interrupted, with a reckless laugh; "the river's broken through the levee--a clearsweep in two places. Where I live the water's up to the doorstep. Theysay it's going to be the biggest flood yet. You're all right here;you're on higher ground. "

She seemed to utter these sentences abstractedly, disconnectedly, as ifto gain time. He made an impatient gesture. 

"All right, I'm going, " she said, compressing her lips slowly to keepthem from trembling. "You haven't forgotten anything?" As he turned halfangrily towards her she added, hurriedly and bitterly, "Anything--forto-morrow?"

"No!"

She opened the door and passed out. He listened until the trail ofher wet skirt had descended the stairs, and the street door had closedbehind her. Then he went back to his table and began collecting hispapers and putting them away in his trunks, which he packed feverishly, yet with a set and determined face. He wrote one or two letters, whichhe sealed and left upon his table. He then went to his bedroom anddeliberately shaved off his disguising beard. Had he not been sopreoccupied in one thought, he might have been conscious of loud voicesin the street and a hurrying of feet on the wet sidewalk. But he waspossessed by only one idea. He must see his wife that evening! How, heknew not yet, but the way would appear when he had reached his officein the building opposite hers. Three hours had elapsed before he hadfinished his preparations. On going downstairs he stopped to give somedirections to the porter, but his room was empty; passing into thestreet he was surprised to find it quite deserted, and the shops closed;even a drinking saloon at the corner was quite empty. He turned thecorner of the street, and began the slight descent towards his office. To his amazement the lower end of the street, which was crossed bythe thoroughfare which was his destination, was blocked by a crowd ofpeople. As he hurried forward to join them he suddenly saw, movingdown that thoroughfare, what appeared to his startled eyes to be thesmokestacks of some small, flat-bottomed steamer. He rubbed his eyes; itwas no illusion, for the next moment he had reached the crowd, who werestanding half a block away from the thoroughfare, and on the edge of alagoon of yellow water, whose main current was the thoroughfare he wasseeking, and between whose houses, submerged to their first stories, asteamboat was really paddling. Other boats and rafts were adrift onits sluggish waters, and a boatman had just landed a passenger in thebackwater of the lower half of the street on which he stood with thecrowd. 

Possessed of his one idea, he fought his way desperately to the wateredge and the boat, and demanded a passage to his office. The boatmanhesitated, but James Smith promptly offered him double the value of hiscraft. The act was not deemed singular in that extravagant epoch, andthe sympathizing crowd cheered his solitary departure, as he declinedeven the services of the boatman. The next moment he was off inmid-stream of the thoroughfare, paddling his boat with a desperate butinexperienced hand until he reached his office, which he entered by thewindow. The building, which was new and of brick, showed very littledamage from the flood, but in far different case was the one opposite, on which his eyes were eagerly bent, and whose cheap and insecurefoundations he could see the flood was already undermining. There wereboats around the house, and men hurriedly removing trunks and valuables, but the one figure he expected to see was not there. He tied his ownboat to the window; there was evidently no chance of an interview now, but if she were leaving there would be still the chance of followingher and knowing her destination. As he gazed she suddenly appeared ata window, and was helped by a boatman into a flat-bottomed bargecontaining trunks and furniture. She was evidently the last to leave. The other boats put off at once, and none too soon; for there was awarning cry, a quick swerving of the barge, and the end of the dwellingslowly dropped into the flood, seeming to sink on its knees like astricken ox. A great undulation of yellow water swept across the street, inundating his office through the open window and half swamping his boatbeside it. At the same time he could see that the current had changedand increased in volume and velocity, and, from the cries and warningof the boatmen, he knew that the river had burst its banks at its upperbend. He had barely time to leap into his boat and cast it off beforethere was a foot of water on his floor. 

But the new current was carrying the boats away from the higher level, which they had been eagerly seeking, and towards the channel of theswollen river. The barge was first to feel its influence, and washurried towards the river against the strongest efforts of its boatmen. One by one the other and smaller boats contrived to get into the slackwater of crossing streets, and one was swamped before his eyes. ButJames Smith kept only the barge in view. His difficulty in following itwas increased by his inexperience in managing a boat, and the quantityof drift which now charged the current. Trees torn by their roots fromsome upland bank; sheds, logs, timber, and the bloated carcasses ofcattle choked the stream. All the ruin worked by the flood seemed to becompressed in this disastrous current. Once or twice he narrowly escapedcollision with a heavy beam or the bed of some farmer's wagon. Once hewas swamped by a tree, and righted his frail boat while clinging to itsbranches. 

And then those who watched him from the barge and shore said afterwardsthat a great apathy seemed to fall upon him. He no longer attempted toguide the boat or struggle with the drift, but sat in the stern withintent forward gaze and motionless paddles. Once they strove to warnhim, called to him to make an effort to reach the barge, and did whatthey could, in spite of their own peril, to alter their course and helphim. But he neither answered nor heeded them. And then suddenly a greatlog that they had just escaped seemed to rise up under the keel of hisboat, and it was gone. After a moment his face and head appeared abovethe current, and so close to the stern of the barge that there was aslight cry from the woman in it, but the next moment, and before theboatman could reach him, he was drawn under it and disappeared. They layon their oars eagerly watching, but the body of James Smith was suckedunder the barge, and, in the mid-channel of the great river, was carriedout towards the distant sea. 

*****

There was a strange meeting that night on the deck of a relief boat, which had been sent out in search of the missing barge, between Mrs. Smith and a grave and anxious passenger who had chartered it. Whenhe had comforted her, and pointed out, as, indeed, he had many timesbefore, the loneliness and insecurity of her unprotected life, sheyielded to his arguments. But it was not until many months after theirmarriage that she confessed to him on that eventful night she thoughtshe had seen in a moment of great peril the vision of the dead face ofher husband uplifted to her through the water. 

LANTY FOSTER'S MISTAKE

Lanty Foster was crouching on a low stool before the dying kitchenfire, the better to get its fading radiance on the book she was reading. Beyond, through the open window and door, the fire was also slowlyfading from the sky and the mountain ridge whence the sun had droppedhalf an hour before. The view was uphill, and the sky-line of thehill was marked by two or three gibbet-like poles from which, on anow invisible line between them, depended certain objects--mere blacksilhouettes against the sky--which bore weird likeness to human figures. Absorbed as she was in her book, she nevertheless occasionally cast animpatient glance in that direction, as the sunlight faded more quicklythan her fire. For the fluttering objects were the "week's wash" whichhad to be brought in before night fell and the mountain wind arose. Itwas strong at that altitude, and before this had ravished the clothesfrom the line, and scattered them along the highroad leading over theridge, once even lashing the shy schoolmaster with a pair of Lanty's ownstockings, and blinding the parson with a really tempestuous petticoat. 

A whiff of wind down the big-throated chimney stirred the log embers onthe hearth, and the girl jumped to her feet, closing the book with animpatient snap. She knew her mother's voice would follow. It was hard toleave her heroine at the crucial moment of receiving an explanation froma presumed faithless lover, just to climb a hill and take in a lotof soulless washing, but such are the infelicities of stolen romancereading. She threw the clothes-basket over her head like a hood, thehandle resting across her bosom and shoulders, and with both her handsfree started out of the cabin. But the darkness had come up from thevalley in one stride after its mountain fashion, had outstripped her, and she was instantly plunged in it. Still the outline of the ridgeabove her was visible, with the white, steadfast stars that were notthere a moment ago, and by that sign she knew she was late. She had tobattle against the rushing wind now, which sung through the invertedbasket over her head and held her back, but with bent shoulders she atlast reached the top of the ridge and the level. Yet here, owing tothe shifting of the lighter background above her, she now found herselfagain encompassed with the darkness. The outlines of the poles haddisappeared, the white fluttering garments were distinct apparitionswaving in the wind, like dancing ghosts. But there certainly was a queermisshapen bulk moving beyond, which she did not recognize, and as she atlast reached one of the poles, a shock was communicated to it, throughthe clothes-line and the bulk beyond. Then she heard a voice sayimpatiently, --

"What in h-ll am I running into now?"

It was a man's voice, and, from its elevation, the voice of a man onhorseback. She answered without fear and with slow deliberation, --

"Inter our clothes-line, I reckon. "

"Oh!" said the man in a half-apologetic tone. Then in brisker accents, "The very thing I want! I say, can you give me a bit of it? The ring ofmy saddle girth has fetched loose. I can fasten it with that. "

"I reckon, " replied Lanty, with the same unconcern, moving nearer thebulk, which now separated into two parts as the man dismounted. "Howmuch do you want?"

"A foot or two will do. "

They were now in front of each other, although their faces were notdistinguishable to either. Lanty, who had been following the lines withher hand, here came upon the end knotted around the last pole. This shebegan to untie. 

"What a place to hang clothes, " he said curiously. 

"Mighty dryin', tho', " returned Lanty laconically. 

"And your house? Is it near by?" he continued. 

"Just down the ridge--ye kin see from the edge. Got a knife?" She haduntied the knot. 

"No--yes--wait. " He had hesitated a moment and then produced somethingfrom his breast pocket, which he however kept in his hand. As he did notoffer it to her she simply held out a section of the rope betweenher hands, which he divided with a single cut. She saw only that theinstrument was long and keen. Then she lifted the flap of the saddlefor him as he attempted to fasten the loose ring with the rope, butthe darkness made it impossible. With an ejaculation, he fumbled in hispockets. "My last match!" he said, striking it, as he crouched overit to protect it from the wind. Lanty leaned over also, with her apronraised between it and the blast. The flame for an instant lit up thering, the man's dark face, mustache, and white teeth set together ashe tugged at the girth, and Lanty's brown, velvet eyes and soft, roundcheek framed in the basket. Then it went out, but the ring was secured. 

"Thank you, " said the man, with a short laugh, "but I thought you were ahumpbacked witch in the dark there. "

"And I couldn't make out whether you was a cow or a b'ar, " returned theyoung girl simply. 

Here, however, he quickly mounted his horse, but in the action somethingslipped from his clothes, struck a stone, and bounded away into thedarkness. 

"My knife, " he said hurriedly. "Please hand it to me. " But although thegirl dropped on her knees and searched the ground diligently, it couldnot be found. The man with a restrained ejaculation again dismounted, and joined in the search. 

"Haven't you got another match?" suggested Lanty. 

"No--it was my last!" he said impatiently. 

"Just you hol' on here, " she said suddenly, "and I'll run down to thekitchen and fetch you a light. I won't be long. "

"No! no!" said the man quickly; "don't! I couldn't wait. I've been heretoo long now. Look here. You come in daylight and find it, and--justkeep it for me, will you?" He laughed. "I'll come for it. And now, ifyou'll only help to set me on that road again, for it's so infernalblack I can't see the mare's ears ahead of me, I won't bother you anymore. Thank you. "

Lanty had quietly moved to his horse's head and taken the bridle in herhand, and at once seemed to be lost in the gloom. But in a few momentshe felt the muffled thud of his horse's hoof on the thick dust of thehighway, and its still hot, impalpable powder rising to his nostrils. 

"Thank you, " he said again, "I'm all right now, " and in the pause thatfollowed it seemed to Lanty that he had extended a parting hand to herin the darkness. She put up her own to meet it, but missed his, whichhad blundered onto her shoulder. Before she could grasp it, she felt himstooping over her, the light brush of his soft mustache on her cheek, and then the starting forward of his horse. But the retaliating box onthe ear she had promptly aimed at him spent itself in the black spacewhich seemed suddenly to have swallowed up the man, and even his lightlaugh. 

For an instant she stood still, and then, swinging the basketindignantly from her shoulder, took up her suspended task. It was nolight one in the increasing wind, and the unfastened clothes-line hadprecipitated a part of its burden to the ground through the looseningof the rope. But on picking up the trailing garments her hand struck anunfamiliar object. The stranger's lost knife! She thrust it hastily intothe bottom of the basket and completed her work. As she began to descendwith her burden she saw that the light of the kitchen fire, seenthrough the windows, was augmented by a candle. Her mother was evidentlyawaiting her. 

"Pretty time to be fetchin' in the wash, " said Mrs. Foster querulously. "But what can you expect when folks stand gossipin' and philanderin' onthe ridge instead o' tendin' to their work?"

Now Lanty knew that she had NOT been "gossipin'" nor "philanderin', " yetas the parting salute might have been open to that imputation, and asshe surmised that her mother might have overheard their voices, shebriefly said, to prevent further questioning, that she had shown astranger the road. But for her mother's unjust accusation she would havebeen more communicative. As Mrs. Foster went back grumblingly into thesitting-room Lanty resolved to keep the knife at present a secret fromher mother, and to that purpose removed it from the basket. But in thelight of the candle she saw it for the first time plainly--and started. 

For it was really a dagger! jeweled-handled and richly wrought--such asLanty had never looked upon before. The hilt was studded with gems, andthe blade, which had a cutting edge, was damascened in blue andgold. Her soft eyes reflected the brilliant setting, her lips partedbreathlessly; then, as her mother's voice arose in the other room, shethrust it back into its velvet sheath and clapped it into her pocket. Its rare beauty had confirmed her resolution of absolute secrecy. Tohave shown it now would have made "no end of talk. " And she was not surebut that her parents would have demanded its custody! And it was givento HER by HIM to keep. This settled the question of moral ethics. Shetook the first opportunity to run up to her bedroom and hide it underthe mattress. 

Yet the thought of it filled the rest of her evening. When her householdduties were done she took up her novel again, partly from force of habitand partly as an attitude in which she could think of IT undisturbed. For what was fiction to her now? True, it possessed a certainreminiscent value. A "dagger" had appeared in several romances shehad devoured, but she never had a clear idea of one before. "The Countsprang back, and, drawing from his belt a richly jeweled dagger, hissedbetween his teeth, " or, more to the purpose: "'Take this, ' said Orlando, handing her the ruby-hilted poignard which had gleamed upon his thigh, 'and should the caitiff attempt thy unguarded innocence--'"

"Did ye hear what your father was sayin'?" Lanty started. It was hermother's voice in the doorway, and she had been vaguely conscious ofanother voice pitched in the same querulous key, which, indeed, was thedominant expression of the small ranchers of that fertile neighborhood. Possibly a too complaisant and unaggressive Nature had spoiled them. 

"Yes!--no!" said Lanty abstractedly, "what did he say?"

"If you wasn't taken up with that fool book, " said Mrs. Foster, glancingat her daughter's slightly conscious color, "ye'd know! He allowedye'd better not leave yer filly in the far pasture nights. That gango' Mexican horse-thieves is out again, and raided McKinnon's stock lastnight. "

This touched Lanty closely. The filly was her own property, and shewas breaking it for her own riding. But her distrust of her parents'interference was greater than any fear of horse-stealers. "She's mightyuneasy in the barn; and, " she added, with a proud consciousness of thatbeautiful yet carnal weapon upstairs, "I reckon I ken protect her andmyself agin any Mexican horse-thieves. "

"My! but we're gettin' high and mighty, " responded Mrs. Foster, withdeep irony. "Did you git all that outer your fool book?"

"Mebbe, " said Lanty curtly. 

Nevertheless, her thoughts that night were not entirely based on writtenromance. She wondered if the stranger knew that she had really tried tobox his ears in the darkness, also if he had been able to see her face. HIS she remembered, at least the flash of his white teeth against hisdark face and darker mustache, which was quite as soft as her own hair. But if he thought "for a minnit" that she was "goin' to allow an entirestranger to kiss her--he was mighty mistaken. " She should let him knowit "pretty quick"! She should hand him back the dagger "quite carelesslike, " and never let on that she'd thought anything of it. Perhaps thatwas the reason why, before she went to bed, she took a good look at it, and after taking off her straight, beltless, calico gown she even triedthe effect of it, thrust in the stiff waistband of her petticoat, withthe jeweled hilt displayed, and thought it looked charming--as indeed itdid. And then, having said her prayers like a good girl, and supplicatedthat she should be less "tetchy" with her parents, she went to sleep anddreamed that she had gone out to take in the wash again, but that theclothes had all changed to the queerest lot of folks, who were allfighting and struggling with each other until she, Lanty, drawing herdagger, rushed up single-handed among them, crying, "Disperse, ye cravencurs, --disperse, I say. " And they dispersed. 

Yet even Lanty was obliged to admit the next morning that all this wassomewhat incongruous with the baking of "corn dodgers, " the frying offish, the making of beds, and her other household duties, and dismissedthe stranger from her mind until he should "happen along. " In her freerand more acceptable outdoor duties she even tolerated the advances ofneighboring swains who made a point of passing by "Foster's Ranch, " andwho were quite aware that Atalanta Foster, alias "Lanty, " was one of theprettiest girls in the country. But Lanty's toleration consisted in thatsingular performance known to herself as "giving them as good as theysent, " being a lazy traversing, qualified with scorn, of all that theyadvanced. How long they would have put up with this from a plain girl Ido not know, but Lanty's short upper lip seemed framed for indolentand fascinating scorn, and her dreamy eyes usually looked beyond thequestioner, or blunted his bolder glances in their velvety surfaces. Thelibretto of these scenes was not exhaustive, e. G. :--

The Swain (with bold, bad gayety). "Saw that shy schoolmaster hangin'round your ridge yesterday! Orter know by this time that shyness with agal don't pay. "

Lanty (decisively). "Mebbe he allows it don't get left as often asimpudence. "

The Swain (ignoring the reply and his previous attitude and becomingmore direct). "I was calkilatin' to say that with these yer hoss-thievesabout, yer filly ain't safe in the pasture. I took a turn round theretwo or three times last evening to see if she was all right. "

Lanty (with a flattering show of interest). "No! DID ye, now? I was jestwonderin"'--

The Swain (eagerly). "I did--quite late, too! Why, that's nothin', MissAtalanty, to what I'd do for you. "

Lanty (musing, with far off-eyes). "Then that's why she was so awfulskeerd and frightened! Just jumpin' outer her skin with horror. Ireckoned it was a b'ar or panther or a spook! You ought to have waitedtill she got accustomed to your looks. "

Nevertheless, despite this elegant raillery, Lanty was enough concernedin the safety of her horse to visit it the next day with a view ofbringing it nearer home. She had just stepped into the alder fringe ofa dry "run" when she came suddenly upon the figure of a horseman in the"run, " who had been hidden by the alders from the plain beyond and whoseemed to be engaged in examining the hoof marks in the dust of theold ford. Something about his figure struck her recollection, and ashe looked up quickly she saw it was the owner of the dagger. Buthe appeared to be lighter of hair and complexion, and was dresseddifferently, and more like a vaquero. Yet there was the same flash ofhis teeth as he recognized her, and she knew it was the same man. 

Alas for her preparation! Without the knife she could not make thathaughty return of it which she had contemplated. And more than that, shewas conscious she was blushing! Nevertheless she managed to level herpretty brown eyebrows at him, and said sharply that if he followed herto her home she would return his property at once. 

"But I'm in no hurry for it, " he said with a laugh, --the same lightlaugh and pleasant voice she remembered, --"and I'd rather not come tothe house just now. The knife is in good hands, I know, and I'll callfor it when I want it! And until then--if it's all the same to you--keepit to yourself, --keep it dark, as dark as the night I lost it!"

"I don't go about blabbing my affairs, " said Lanty indignantly, "and ifit hadn't BEEN dark that night you'd have had your ears boxed--you knowwhy!"

The stranger laughed again, waved his hand to Lanty, and galloped away. 

Lanty was a little disappointed. The daylight had taken away some ofher illusions. He was certainly very good-looking, but not quite aspicturesque, mysterious, and thrilling as in the dark! And it was veryqueer--he certainly did look darker that night! Who was he? And whywas he lingering near her? He was different from her neighbors--heradmirers. He might be one of those locaters, from the big towns, whoprospect the lands, with a view of settling government warrants onthem, --they were always so secret until they had found what they wanted. She did not dare to seek information of her friends, for the same reasonthat she had concealed his existence from her mother, --it would provokeawkward questions; and it was evident that he was trusting to hersecrecy, too. The thought thrilled her with a new pride, and was somecompensation for the loss of her more intangible romance. It wouldbe mighty fine, when he did call openly for his beautiful knife anddeclared himself, to have them all know that SHE knew about it allalong. 

When she reached home, to guard against another such surprise shedetermined to keep the weapon with her, and, distrusting her pocket, confided it to the cheap little country-made corset which only forthe last year had confined her budding figure, and which now, perhaps, heaved with an additional pride. She was quite abstracted during therest of the day, and paid but little attention to the gossip of the farmlads, who were full of a daring raid, two nights before, by the Mexicangang on the large stock farm of a neighbor. The Vigilant Committee hadbeen baffled; it was even alleged that some of the smaller ranchmenand herders were in league with the gang. It was also believed to be awidespread conspiracy; to have a political complexion in its combinationof an alien race with Southwestern filibusters. The legal authoritieshad been reinforced by special detectives from San Francisco. Lantyseldom troubled herself with these matters; she knew the exaggeration, she suspected the ignorance of her rural neighbors. She roughly referredit, in her own vocabulary, to "jaw, " a peculiarly masculine quality. Butlater in the evening, when the domestic circle in the sitting-room hadbeen augmented by a neighbor, and Lanty had taken refuge behind hernovel as an excuse for silence, Zob Hopper, the enamored swain of theprevious evening, burst in with more astounding news. A posse of thesheriff had just passed along the ridge; they had "corraled" part of thegang, and rescued some of the stock. The leader of the gang had escaped, but his capture was inevitable, as the roads were stopped. "All thesame, I'm glad to see ye took my advice, Miss Atalanty, and brought inyour filly, " he concluded, with an insinuating glance at the young girl. 

But "Miss Atalanty, " curling a quarter of an inch of scarlet lip abovethe edge of her novel, here "allowed" that if his advice or the fillyhad to be "took, " she didn't know which was worse. 

"I wonder ye kin talk to sech peartness, Mr. Hopper, " said Mrs. Fosterseverely; "she ain't got eyes nor senses for anythin' but that book. "

"Talkin' o' what's to be 'took, '" put in the diplomatic neighbor, "youbet it ain't that Mexican leader! No, sir! he's been 'stopped' beforethis--and then got clean away all the same! One o' them detectives gothim once and disarmed him--but he managed to give them the slip, afterall. Why, he's that full o' shifts and disguises thar ain't no spottin'him. He walked right under the constable's nose oncet, and took a drinkwith the sheriff that was arter him--and the blamed fool never knew it. He kin change even the color of his hair quick as winkin'. "

"Is he a real Mexican, --a regular Greaser?" asked the paternal Foster. "Cos I never heard that they wuz smart. "

"No! They say he comes o' old Spanish stock, a bad egg they threw outerthe nest, I reckon, " put in Hopper eagerly, seeing a strange animatedinterest dilating Lanty's eyes, and hoping to share in it; "but he'sreg'lar high-toned, you bet! Why, I knew a man who seed him in his owncamp--prinked out in a velvet jacket and silk sash, with gold chainsand buttons down his wide pants and a dagger stuck in his sash, with ahandle just blazin' with jew'ls. Yes! Miss Atalanty, they say that onestone at the top--a green stone, what they call an 'em'ral'--was worththe price o' a 'Frisco house-lot. True ez you live! Eh--what's up now?"

Lanty's book had fallen on the floor as she was rising to her feetwith a white face, still more strange and distorted in an affected yawnbehind her little hand. "Yer makin' me that sick and nervous with yerfool yarns, " she said hysterically, "that I'm goin' to get a littlefresh air. It's just stifling here with lies and terbacker!" Withanother high laugh, she brushed past him into the kitchen, opened thedoor, and then paused, and, turning, ran rapidly up to her bedroom. Hereshe locked herself in, tore open the bosom of her dress, plucked outthe dagger, threw it on the bed, where the green stone gleamed for aninstant in the candlelight, and then dropped on her knees beside the bedwith her whirling head buried in her cold red hands. 

It had all come to her in a flash, like a blaze of lightning, --theblack, haunting figure on the ridge, the broken saddle girth, theabandonment of the dagger in the exigencies of flight and concealment;the second meeting, the skulking in the dry, alder-hidden "run, " thechanged dress, the lighter-colored hair, but always the same voice andlaugh--the leader, the fugitive, the Mexican horse-thief! And she, theGodforsaken fool, the chuckle-headed nigger baby, with not half thesense of her own filly or that sop-headed Hopper--had never seen it!She--SHE who would be the laughing-stock of them all--she had thoughthim a "locater, " a "towny" from 'Frisco! And she had consented to keephis knife until he would call for it, --yes, call for it, with fire andflame perhaps, the trampling of hoofs, pistol shots--and--yet--

Yet!--he had TRUSTED her. Yes! trusted her when he knew a word from herlips would have brought the whole district down on him! when the mereexposure of that dagger would have identified and damned him! Trustedher a second time, when she was within cry of her house! When he mighthave taken her filly without her knowing it? And now she rememberedvaguely that the neighbors had said how strange it was that her father'sstock had not suffered as theirs had. HE had protected them--he who wasnow a fugitive--and their men pursuing him! She rose suddenly with asingle stamp of her narrow foot, and as suddenly became cool and sane. And then, quite her old self again, she lazily picked up the dagger andrestored it to its place in her bosom. That done, with her color backand her eyes a little brighter, she deliberately went downstairs again, stuck her little brown head into the sitting-room, said cheerfully, "Still yawpin', you folks, " and quietly passed out into the darkness. 

She ran swiftly up to the ridge, impelled by the blind memory of havingmet him there at night and the one vague thought to give him warning. But it was dark and empty, with no sound but the rushing wind. And thenan idea seized her. If he were haunting the vicinity still, he might seethe fluttering of the clothes upon the line and believe she was there. She stooped quickly, and in the merciful and exonerating darknessstripped off her only white petticoat and pinned it on the line. Itflapped, fluttered, and streamed in the mountain wind. She lingered andlistened. But there came a sound she had not counted on, --the clatteringhoofs of not ONE, but many, horses on the lower road! She ran back tothe house to find its inmates already hastening towards the road fornews. She took that chance to slip in quietly, go to her room, whosewindow commanded a view of the ridge, and crouching low behind it shelistened. She could hear the sound of voices, and the dull trampling ofheavy boots on the dusty path towards the barnyard on the other side ofthe house--a pause, and then the return of the trampling boots, and thefinal clattering of hoofs on the road again. Then there was a tap on herdoor and her mother's querulous voice. 

"Oh! yer there, are ye? Well--it's the best place fer a girl--with allthese man's doin's goin' on! They've got that Mexican horse-thief andhave tied him up in your filly's stall in the barn--till the 'Friscodeputy gets back from rounding up the others. So ye jest stay where yeare till they've come and gone, and we're shut o' all that cattle. Areye mindin'?"

"All right, maw; 'taint no call o' mine, anyhow, " returned Lanty, through the half-open door. 

At another time her mother might have been startled at her passiveobedience. Still more would she have been startled had she seen herdaughter's face now, behind the closed door--with her little mouth setover her clenched teeth. And yet it was her own child, and Lanty was hermother's real daughter; the same pioneer blood filled their veins, theblood that had never nourished cravens or degenerates, but had givenitself to sprinkle and fertilize desert solitudes where man mightfollow. Small wonder, then, that this frontier-born Lanty, whose firstinfant cry had been answered by the yelp of wolf and scream of panther;whose father's rifle had been leveled across her cradle to cover thestealthy Indian who prowled outside, small wonder that she should feelherself equal to these "man's doin's, " and prompt to take a part. Foreven in the first shock of the news of the capture she recalled thefact that the barn was old and rotten, that only that day the fillyhad kicked a board loose from behind her stall, which she, Lanty, had lightly returned to avoid "making a fuss. " If his captors had notnoticed it, or trusted only to their guards, she might make the openingwide enough to free him!

Two hours later the guard nearest the now sleeping house, a farm handof the Fosters', saw his employer's daughter slip out and cautiouslyapproach him. A devoted slave of Lanty's, and familiar with herimpulses, he guessed her curiosity, and was not averse to satisfy itand the sense of his own importance. To her whispers of affected, half-terrified interest, he responded in whispers that the captive wasreally in the filly's stall, securely bound by his wrists behind hisback, and his feet "hobbled" to a post. That Lanty couldn't see him, forit was dark inside, and he was sitting with his back to the wall, as hecouldn't sleep comf'ble lyin' down. Lanty's eyes glowed, but her facewas turned aside. 

"And ye ain't reckonin' his friends will come and rescue him?" saidLanty, gazing with affected fearfulness in the darkness. 

"Not much! There's two other guards down in the corral, and I'd fire mygun and bring 'em up. "

But Lanty was gazing open-mouthed towards the ridge. "What's that wavin'on the ridge?" she said in awe-stricken tones. 

She was pointing to the petticoat, --a vague, distant, moving objectagainst the horizon. 

"Why, that's some o' the wash on the line, ain't it?"

"Wash--TWO DAYS IN THE WEEK!" said Lanty sharply. "Wot's gone of you?"

"Thet's so, " muttered the man, "and it wan't there at sundown, I'llswear! P'r'aps I'd better call the guard, " and he raised his rifle. 

"Don't, " said Lanty, catching his arm. "Suppose it's nothin', they'lllaugh at ye. Creep up softly and see; ye ain't afraid, are ye? If yeare, give me yer gun, and I'LL go. "

This settled the question, as Lanty expected. The man cocked his piece, and bending low began cautiously to mount the acclivity. Lanty waiteduntil his figure began to fade, and then ran like fire to the barn. 

She had arranged every detail of her plan beforehand. Crouching besidethe wall of the stall she hissed through a crack in thrilling whispers, "Don't move. Don't speak for your life's sake. Wait till I hand you backyour knife, then do the best you can. " Then slipping aside the loosenedboard she saw dimly the black outline of curling hair, back, shoulders, and tied wrists of the captive. Drawing the knife from her pocket, withtwo strokes of its keen cutting edge she severed the cords, threw theknife into the opening, and darted away. Yet in that moment she knewthat the man was instinctively turning towards her. But it was one thingto free a horse-thief, and another to stop and "philander" with him. 

She ran halfway up the ridge, and met the farm hand returning. It wasonly a bit of washing after all, and he was glad he hadn't fired hisgun. On the other hand, Lanty confessed she had got "so skeert" beingalone, that she came to seek him. She had the shivers; wasn't herhand cold? It was, but thrilling even in its coldness to the bashfullyadmiring man. And she was that weak and dizzy, he must let her lean onhis arm going down; and they must go SLOW. She was sure he was cold, too, and if he would wait at the back door she would give him a drink ofwhiskey. Thus Lanty, with her brain afire, her eyes and ears straininginto the darkness, and the vague outline of the barn beyond. Anothermoment was protracted over the drink of whiskey, and then Lanty, with afaint archness, made him promise not to tell her mother of her escapade, and she promised on her part not to say anything about his "stalkinga petticoat on the clothesline, " and then shyly closed the door andregained her room. HE must have got away by this time, or have beendiscovered; she believed they would not open the barn door until thereturn of the posse. 

She was right. It was near daybreak when they returned, and, againcrouching low beside her window, she heard, with a fierce joy, thesudden outcry, the oaths, the wrangling voices, the summoning of herfather to the front door, and then the tumultuous sweeping away again ofthe whole posse, and a blessed silence falling over the rancho. And thenLanty went quietly to bed, and slept like a three-year child!

Perhaps that was the reason why she was able at breakfast to listen withlazy and even rosy indifference to the startling events of the night; tothe sneers of the farm hands at the posse who had overlooked the knifewhen they searched their prisoner, as well as the stupidity of thecorral guard who had never heard him make a hole "the size of a house"in the barn side! Once she glanced demurely at Silas Briggs--the farmhand and the poor fellow felt consoled in his shame at the remembranceof their confidences. 

But Lanty's tranquillity was not destined to last long. There was againthe irruption of exciting news from the highroad; the Mexican leader hadbeen recaptured, and was now safely lodged in Brownsville jail! Thosewho were previously loud in their praises of the successful horse-thiefwho had baffled the vigilance of his pursuers were now equally keenin their admiration of the new San Francisco deputy who, in turn, hadoutwitted the whole gang. It was HE who was fertile in expedients; HEwho had studied the whole country, and even risked his life among thegang, and HE who had again closed the meshes of the net around theescaped outlaw. He was already returning by way of the rancho, and mightstop there a moment, --so that they could all see the hero. Such was thepower of success on the country-side! Outwardly indifferent, inwardlybitter, Lanty turned away. She should not grace his triumph, if she keptin her room all day! And when there was a clatter of hoofs on the roadagain, Lanty slipped upstairs. 

But in a few moments she was summoned. Captain Lance Wetherby, AssistantChief of Police of San Francisco, Deputy Sheriff and ex-U. S. Scout, had requested to see Miss Foster a few moments alone. Lanty knew whatit meant, --her secret had been discovered; but she was not the girl toshirk the responsibility! She lifted her little brown head proudly, andwith the same resolute step with which she had left the house the nightbefore, descended the stairs and entered the sitting-room. At first shesaw nothing. Then a remembered voice struck her ear; she started, lookedup, and gasping, fell back against the door. It was the stranger whohad given her the dagger, the stranger she had met in the run!--thehorse-thief himself! No! no! she saw it all now--she had cut loose thewrong man!

He looked at her with a smile of sadness--as he drew from hisbreast-pocket that dreadful dagger, the very sight of which Lanty nowloathed! "This is the SECOND time, Miss Foster, " he said gently, "thatI have taken this knife from Murietta, the Mexican bandit: once when Idisarmed him three weeks ago, and he escaped, and last night, when hehad again escaped and I recaptured him. After I lost it that night Iunderstood from you that you had found it and were keeping it for me. "He paused a moment and went on: "I don't ask you what happened lastnight. I don't condemn you for it; I can believe what a girl of yourcourage and sympathy might rightly do if her pity were excited; I onlyask--why did you give HIM back that knife I trusted you with?"

"Why? Why did I?" burst out Lanty in a daring gush of truth, scorn, andtemper. "BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE THAT HORSE-THIEF. There!"

He drew back astonished, and then suddenly came that laugh that Lantyremembered and now hailed with joy. "I believe you, by Jove!" he gasped. "That first night I wore the disguise in which I have tracked him andmingled with his gang. Yes! I see it all now--and more. I see that toYOU I owe his recapture!"

"To me!" echoed the bewildered girl; "how?"

"Why, instead of making for his cave he lingered here in the confines ofthe ranch! He thought you were in love with him, because you freed himand gave him his knife, and stayed to see you!"

But Lanty had her apron to her eyes, whose first tears were fillingtheir velvet depths. And her voice was broken as she said, --

"Then he--cared--a--good deal more for me--than some people!"

But there is every reason to believe that Lanty was wrong! At leastlater events that are part of the history of Foster's Rancho and theFoster family pointed distinctly to the contrary. 

AN ALI BABA OF THE SIERRAS

Johnny Starleigh found himself again late for school. It was alwayshappening. It seemed to be inevitable with the process of going toschool at all. And it was no fault "o' his. " Something was alwaysoccurring, --some eccentricity of Nature or circumstance was invariablystarting up in his daily path to the schoolroom. He may not have been"thinkin' of squirrels, " and yet the rarest and most evasive of thatspecies were always crossing his trail; he may not have been "huntin'honey, " and yet a wild bees' nest in the hollow of an oak absolutelyobtruded itself before him; he wasn't "bird-catchin', " and yet there wasa yellow-hammer always within stone's throw. He had heard how grown menhunters always saw the most wonderful animals when they "hadn't gota gun with 'em, " and it seemed to be his lot to meet them in hisrestricted possibilities on the way to school. If Nature was thuscapricious with his elders, why should folk think it strange if she wasas mischievous with a small boy?

On this particular morning Johnny had been beguiled by the unmistakablefootprints--so like his own!--of a bear's cub. What chances he had ofever coming up with them, or what he would have done if he had, he didnot know. He only knew that at the end of an hour and a half he foundhimself two miles from the schoolhouse, and, from the position of thesun, at least an hour too late for school. He knew that nobody wouldbelieve him. The punishment for complete truancy was little worse thanfor being late. He resolved to accept it, and by way of irrevocabilityat once burnt his ships behind him--in devouring part of his dinner. 

Thus fortified in his outlawry, he began to look about him. He was on athickly wooded terrace with a blank wall of "outcrop" on one side nearlyas high as the pines which pressed close against it. He had never seenit before; it was two or three miles from the highroad and seemed to bea virgin wilderness. But on close examination he could see, with theeye of a boy bred in a mining district, that the wall of outcrop had notescaped the attention of the mining prospector. There were marks of hispick in some attractive quartz seams of the wall, and farther on, a moreambitious attempt, evidently by a party of miners, to begin a tunnel, shown in an abandoned excavation and the heap of debris before it. Ithad evidently been abandoned for some time, as ferns already forcedtheir green fronds through the stones and gravel, and the yerba buenavine was beginning to mat the surface of the heap. But the boy's fancywas quickly taken by the traces of a singular accident, and one whichhad perhaps arrested the progress of the excavators. The roots of alarge pine-tree growing close to the wall had been evidently loosened bythe excavators, and the tree had fallen, with one of its largest rootsstill in the opening the miners had made, and apparently blocking theentrance. The large tree lay, as it fell--midway across another but muchsmaller outcrop of rock which stood sharply about fifteen feet abovethe level of the terrace--with its gaunt, dead limbs in the air at a lowangle. To Johnny's boyish fancy it seemed so easily balanced on the rockthat but for its imprisoned root it would have made a capital see-saw. This he felt must be looked to hereafter. But here his attention wasarrested by something more alarming. His quick ear, attuned like ananimal's to all woodland sounds, detected the crackling of underwoodin the distance. His equally sharp eye saw the figures of two menapproaching. But as he recognized the features of one of them he drewback with a beating heart, a hushed breath, and hurriedly hid himself inthe shadow. For he had seen that figure once before--flying beforethe sheriff and an armed posse--and had never forgotten it! It was thefigure of Spanish Pete, a notorious desperado and sluice robber!

Finding he had been unobserved, the boy took courage, and hissmall faculties became actively alive. The two men came on togethercautiously, and at a little distance the second man, whom Johnny did notknow, parted from his companion and began to loiter up and down, lookingaround as if acting as a sentinel for the desperado, who advanceddirectly to the fallen tree. Suddenly the sentinel uttered anexclamation, and Spanish Pete paused. The sentinel was examining theground near the heap of debris. 

"What's up?" growled the desperado. 

"Foot tracks! Weren't here before. And fresh ones, too. "

Johnny's heart sank. It was where he had just passed. 

Spanish Pete hurriedly joined his companion. 

"Foot tracks be ----!" he said scornfully. "What fool would be crawlin'round here barefooted? It's a young b'ar!"

Johnny knew the footprints were his own. Yet he recognized the truthof the resemblance; it was uncomplimentary, but he felt relieved. Thedesperado came forward, and to the boy's surprise began to climb thesmall ridge of outcrop until he reached the fallen tree. Johnny saw thathe was carrying a heavy stone. "What's the blamed fool goin' to do?" hesaid to himself; the man's evident ignorance regarding footprintshad lessened the boy's awe of him. But the stranger's next essay tookJohnny's breath away. Standing on the fallen tree trunk at its axis onthe outcrop, he began to rock it gently. To Johnny's surprise itbegan to move. The upper end descended slowly, lifting the root in theexcavation at the lower end, and with it a mass of rock, and revealing acavern behind large enough to admit a man. Johnny gasped. The desperadocoolly deposited the heavy stone on the tree beyond its axis on therock, so that it would keep the tree in position, leaped from the treeto the rock, and quickly descended, at which he was joined by theother man, who was carrying two heavy chamois-leather bags. They bothproceeded to the opening thus miraculously disclosed, and disappeared init. 

Johnny sat breathless, wondering, expectant, but not daring to move. Themen might come out at any moment; he had seen enough to know that theirenterprise as well as their cave was a secret, and that the desperadowould subject any witness to it, however innocent or unwilling, tohorrible penalties. The time crept slowly by, --he heard every rap of awoodpecker in a distant tree; a blue jay dipped and lighted on a branchwithin his reach, but he dared not extend his hand; his legs wereinfested by ants; he even fancied he heard the dry, hollow rattle of arattlesnake not a yard from him. And then the entrance of the cavewas darkened, and the two men reappeared. Johnny stared. He would haverubbed his eyes if he had dared. They were not the same men! Did thecave contain others who had been all the while shut up in its darkrecesses? Was there a band? Would they all swarm out upon him? Should herun for his life?

But the illusion was only momentary. A longer look at them convincedhim that they were the same men in new clothes and disguised, and as oneremounted the outcrop Johnny's keen eyes recognized him as Spanish Pete. He merely kicked away the stone; the root again descended gently overthe opening, and the tree recovered its former angle. The two hurriedaway, but Johnny noticed that they were empty-handed. The bags had beenleft behind. 

The boy waited patiently, listening with his ear to the ground, like anIndian, for the last rustle of fern and crackle of underbrush, andthen emerged, stiff and cramped from his concealment. But he no longerthought of flight; curiosity and ambition burned in his small veins. Hequickly climbed up the outcrop, picked up the fallen stone, and in spiteof its weight lifted it to the prostrate tree. Here he paused, and fromhis coign of vantage looked and listened. The solitude was profound. Then mounting the tree and standing over its axis he tried to rock it asthe others had. Alas! Johnny's heart was stout, his courage unlimited, his perception all-embracing, his ambition boundless; but his actualavoirdupois was only that of a boy of ten. The tree did not move. ButJohnny had played see-saw before, and quietly moved towards its highestpart. It slowly descended under the changed centre of gravity, and theroot arose, disclosing the opening as before. Yet here the little heropaused. He waited with his eyes fixed on the opening, ready to fly onthe sallying out of any one who had remained concealed. He then placedthe stone where he had stood, leaped down, and ran to the opening. 

The change from the dazzling sunlight to the darkness confused him atfirst, and he could see nothing. On entering he stumbled over somethingwhich proved to be a bottle in which a candle was fitted, and a box ofmatches evidently used by the two men. Lighting the candle he could nowdiscern that the cavern was only a few yards long, the beginning of atunnel which the accident to the tree had stopped. In one corner lay theclothes that the men had left, and which for a moment seemed all thatthe cavern contained, but on removing them Johnny saw that they werethrown over a rifle, a revolver, and the two chamois-leather bagsthat the men had brought there. They were so heavy that the boycould scarcely lift them. His face flushed; his hands trembled withexcitement. To a boy whose truant wanderings had given him a fairknowledge of mining, he knew that weight could have but one meaning!Gold! He hurriedly untied the nearest bag. But it was not the gold ofthe locality, of the tunnel, of the "bed rock"! It was "flake gold, "the gold of the river! It had been taken from the miners' sluices inthe distant streams. The bags before him were the spoils of the sluicerobber, --spoils that could not be sold or even shown in the districtwithout danger, spoils kept until they could be taken to Marysville orSacramento for disposal. All this might have occurred to the mind of anyboy of the locality who had heard the common gossip of his elders, butto Johnny's fancy an idea was kindled peculiarly his own! Here was acavern like that of the "Forty Thieves" in the story book, and he wasthe "Ali Baba" who knew its secret! He was not obliged to say "OpenSesame, " but he could say it if he liked, if he was showing it off toanybody!

Yet alas he also knew it was a secret he must keep to himself. He hadnobody to trust it to. His father was a charcoal-burner of small means;a widower with two children, Johnny and his elder brother Sam. Thelatter, a flagrant incorrigible of twenty-two, with a tendency todissipation and low company, had lately abandoned his father's roof, only to reappear at intervals of hilarious or maudlin intoxication. He had always been held up to Johnny as a warning, or with the gloomyprognosis that he, Johnny, was already following in his tortuousfootsteps. Even if he were here he was not to be thought of as aconfidant. Still less could he trust his father, who would be sure tobungle the secret with sheriffs and constables, and end by bringing downthe vengeance of the gang upon the family. As for himself, he could notdispose of the gold if he were to take it. The exhibition of a singleflake of it to the adult public would arouse suspicion, and as it wasJohnny's hard fate to be always doubted, he might be connected with thegang. As a truant he knew he had no moral standing, but he also hadthe superstition--quite characteristic of childhood--that being inpossession of a secret he was a participant in its criminality--andbound, as it were, by terrible oaths! And then a new idea seized him. He carefully put back everything as he had found it, extinguished thecandle, left the cave, remounted the tree, and closed the opening againas he had seen the others do it, with the addition of murmuring "ShutSesame" to himself, and then ran away as fast as his short legs couldcarry him. 

Well clear of the dangerous vicinity, he proceeded more leisurely forabout a mile, until he came to a low whitewashed fence, inclosing asmall cultivated patch and a neat farmhouse beyond. Here he paused, and, cowering behind the fence, with extraordinary facial contortionsproduced a cry not unlike the scream of a blue jay. Repeating it atintervals, he was presently relieved by observing the approach of anankeen sunbonnet within the inclosure above the line of fence. Stoppingbefore him, the sun-bonnet revealed a rosy little face, more thanusually plump on one side, and a neck enormously wrapped in a scarf. Itwas "Meely" (Amelia) Stryker, a schoolmate, detained at home by "mumps, "as Johnny was previously aware. For, with the famous indiscretion ofsome other great heroes, he was about to intrust his secret and hisdestiny to one of the weaker sex. And what were the minor possibilitiesof contagion to this?

"Playin' hookey ag'in?" said the young lady, with a cordial and evenexpansive smile, exclusively confined to one side of her face. 

"Um! So'd you be ef you'd bin whar I hev, " he said with harrowingmystery. 

"No!--say!" said Meely eagerly. 

At which Johnny, clutching at the top of the fence, with hurried breathtold his story. But not all. With the instinct of a true artist hewithheld the manner in which the opening of the cave was revealed, saidnothing about the tree, and, I grieve to say, added the words "OpenSesame" as the important factor to the operation. Neither did he mentionthe name of Spanish Pete. For all of which he was afterwards dulygrateful. 

"Meet me at the burnt pine down the crossroads at four o'clock, " he saidin conclusion, "and I'll show ye. "

"Why not now?" said Meely impatiently. 

"Couldn't. Much as my life is worth! Must keep watching out! You come atfour. "

And with an assuring nod he released the fence and trotted off. Hereturned cautiously in the direction of the cave; he was by no meanssure that the robbers might not return that day, and his mysteriousrendezvous with Meely veiled a certain prudence. And it was well! For ashe stealthily crept around the face of the outcrop, hidden in the ferns, he saw from the altered angle of the tree that the cavern was opened. He remained motionless, with bated breath. Then he heard the sound ofsubdued voices from the cavern, and a figure emerged from the opening. Johnny grasped the ferns rigidly to check the dreadful cry that rose tohis lips at its sight. For that figure was his own brother!

There was no mistaking that weak, wicked face, even then flushed withliquor! Johnny had seen it too often thus. But never before as a thief'sface! He gave a little gasp, and fell back upon that strange reserve ofapathy and reticence in which children are apt to hide their emotionsfrom us at such a moment. He watched impassively the two other men whofollowed his brother out to give him a small bag and some instructions, and then returned within their cave, while his brother walked quicklyaway. He watched him disappear; he did not move, for even if he hadfollowed him he could not bear to face him in his shame. And then out ofhis sullen despair came a boyish idea of revenge. It was those two menwho had made his brother a thief!

He was very near the tree. He crept stealthily on his hands and kneesthrough the bracken, and as stealthily climbed the wedge of outcrop, and then leaped like a wild cat on the tree. With incredible activity helifted the balancing stone, and as the tree began to move, in a flashof perception transferred it to the other side of its axis, and feltthe roots and debris, under that additional weight, descend quickly withsomething like a crash over the opening. Then he took to his heels. Heran so swiftly that all unknowingly he overtook a figure, who, turning, glanced at him, and then disappeared in the wood. It was his second andlast view of his brother, as he never saw him again!

But now, strange to say, the crucial and most despairing moment of hisday's experience had come. He had to face Meely Stryker under the burntpine, and the promise he could not keep, and to tell her that he hadlied to her. It was the only way to save his brother now! His smallwits, and alas! his smaller methods, were equal to the despairing task. As soon as he saw her waiting under the tree he fell to capering anddancing with an extravagance in which hysteria had no small part. "Sold!sold! sold again, and got the money!" he laughed shrilly. 

The girl looked at him with astonishment, which changed gradually toscorn, and then to anger. Johnny's heart sank, but he redoubled hisantics. 

"Who's sold?" she said disdainfully. 

"You be. You swallered all that stuff about Ali Baba! You wanted to beMorgy Anna! Ho! ho! And I've made you play hookey--from home!"

"You hateful, horrid, little liar!"

Johnny accepted his punishment meekly--in his heart gratefully. "Ireckoned you'd laugh and not get mad, " he said submissively. The girlturned, with tears of rage and vexation in her eyes, and walked away. Johnny followed at a humble distance. Perhaps there was somethinginstinctively touching in the boy's remorse, for they made it up beforethey reached her fence. 

Nevertheless Johnny went home miserable. Luckily for him, his father wasabsent at a Vigilance Committee called to take cognizance of the latesluice robberies, and although this temporarily concealed his offenseof truancy, the news of the vigilance meeting determined him to keephis lips sealed. He lay all night wondering how long it would take therobbers to dig themselves out of the cave, and whether they suspectedtheir imprisonment was the work of an enemy or only an accident. Forseveral days he avoided the locality, and even feared the vengefulappearance of Spanish Pete some night at his father's house. It wasnot until the end of a fortnight that he had the courage to revisit thespot. The tree was in its normal position, but immovable, and a greatquantity of fresh debris at the mouth of the cave convinced him that therobbers, after escaping, had abandoned it as unsafe. His brother did notreturn, and either the activity of the Vigilance Committee or the lackof a new place of rendezvous seemed to have dispersed the robbers fromthe locality, for they were not heard of again. 

The next ten years brought an improvement to Mr. Starleigh's fortunes. Johnny Starleigh, then a student at San Jose, one morning found anewspaper clipping in a letter from Miss Amelia Stryker. It read asfollows: "The excavators in the new tunnel in Heavystone Ridge latelydiscovered the skeletons of two unknown men, who had evidently beencrushed and entombed some years previously, by the falling of a largetree over the mouth of their temporary refuge. From some river goldfound with them, they were supposed to be part of the gang of sluicerobbers who infested the locality some years ago, and were hiding fromthe Vigilants. "

For a few days thereafter Johnny Starleigh was thoughtful and reserved, but he did not refer to the paragraph in answering the letter. Hedecided to keep it for later confidences, when Miss Stryker shouldbecome Mrs. Starleigh. 

MISS PEGGY'S PROTEGES

The string of Peggy's sunbonnet had become untied--so had her rightshoe. These were not unusual accidents to a country girl of ten, but asboth of her hands were full she felt obliged to put down what she wascarrying. This was further complicated by the nature of her burden--ahalf-fledged shrike and a baby gopher--picked up in her walk. It wasimpossible to wrap them both in her apron without serious peril to oneor the other; she could not put either down without the chance of itsescaping. "It's like that dreadful riddle of the ferryman who had totake the wolf and the sheep in his boat, " said Peggy to herself, "thoughI don't believe anybody was ever so silly as to want to take a wolfacross the river. " But, looking up, she beheld the approach of SamBedell, a six-foot tunnelman of the "Blue Cement Lead, " and, hailinghim, begged him to hold one of her captives. The giant, loathing thelittle mouse-like ball of fur, chose the shrike. "Hold him by the feet, for he bites AWFUL, " said Peggy, as the bird regarded Sam with thediabolically intense frown of his species. Then, dropping the gopherunconcernedly in her pocket, she proceeded to rearrange her toilet. Thetunnelman waited patiently until Peggy had secured the nankeen sunbonnetaround her fresh but freckled cheeks, and, with a reckless displayof yellow flannel petticoat and stockings like peppermint sticks, haddouble-knotted her shoestrings viciously when he ventured to speak. 

"Same old game, Peggy? Thought you'd got rather discouraged with your'happy family, ' arter that new owl o' yours had gathered 'em in. "

Peggy's cheek flushed slightly at this ungracious allusion to a formercollection of hers, which had totally disappeared one evening after theintroduction of a new member in the shape of a singularly venerable andpeaceful-looking horned owl. 

"I could have tamed HIM, too, " said Peggy indignantly, "if Ned Myers, who gave him to me, hadn't been training him to ketch things, and neverlet on anything about it to me. He was a reg'lar game owl!"

"And wot are ye goin' to do with the Colonel here?" said Sam, indicatingunder that gallant title the infant shrike, who, with his claws deeplyimbedded in Sam's finger, was squatting like a malignant hunchback, andresisting his transfer to Peggy. "Won't HE make it rather lively for theothers? He looks pow'ful discontented for one so young. "

"That's his nater, " said Peggy promptly. "Jess wait till I tame him. Ef he'd been left along o' his folks, he'd grow up like 'em. He's a'butcher bird'--wot they call a 'nine-killer '--kills nine birds a day!Yes! True ez you live! Sticks 'em up on thorns outside his nest, jestlike a butcher's shop, till he gets hungry. I've seen 'em!"

"And how do you kalkilate to tame him?" asked Sam. 

"By being good to him and lovin' him, " said Peggy, stroking the head ofthe bird with infinite gentleness. 

"That means YOU'VE got to do all the butchering for him?" said thecynical Sam. 

Peggy shook her head, disdaining a verbal reply. 

"Ye can't bring him up on sugar and crackers, like a Polly, " persistedSam. 

"Ye ken do anythin' with critters, if you ain't afeerd of 'em and love'em, " said Peggy shyly. 

The tall tunnelman, looking down into the depths of Peggy's sunbonnet, saw something in the round blue eyes and grave little mouth that madehim think so too. But here Peggy's serious little face took a shade ofdarker concern as her arm went down deeper into her pocket, and her eyesgot rounder. 

"It's--it's--BURRERED OUT!" she said breathlessly. 

The giant leaped briskly to one side. "Hol' on, " said Peggyabstractedly. With infinite gravity she followed, with her fingers, aseam of her skirt down to the hem, popped them quickly under it, andproduced, with a sigh of relief, the missing gopher. 

"You'll do, " said Sam, in fearful admiration. "Mebbe you'll make suthin'out o' the Colonel too. But I never took stock in that there owl. Hewas too durned self-righteous for a decent bird. Now, run along aforeanythin' else fetches loose ag'in. So long!"

He patted the top of her sunbonnet, gave a little pull to the shortbrown braid that hung behind her temptingly, --which no miner was everknown to resist, --and watched her flutter off with her spoils. He haddone so many times before, for the great, foolish heart of the BlueCement Ridge had gone out to Peggy Baker, the little daughter of theblacksmith, quite early. There were others of the family, notablytwo elder sisters, invincible at picnics and dances, but Peggy was asnecessary to these men as the blue jay that swung before them in thedim woods, the squirrel that whisked across their morning path, or thewoodpecker who beat his tattoo at their midday meal from the hollowpine above them. She was part of the nature that kept them young. Hertruancies and vagrancies concerned them not: she was a law to herself, like the birds and squirrels. There were bearded lips to hail herwherever she went, and a blue or red-shirted arm always stretched out inany perilous pass or dangerous crossing. 

Her peculiar tastes were an outcome of her nature, assisted by hersurroundings. Left a good deal to herself in her infancy, she madeplayfellows of animated nature around her, without much reference toselection or fitness, but always with a fearlessness that was the resultof her own observation, and unhampered by tradition or other children'stimidity. She had no superstition regarding the venom of toads, thepoison of spiders, or the ear-penetrating capacity of earwigs. She hadexperiences and revelations of her own, --which she kept sacredly toherself, as children do, --and one was in regard to a rattlesnake, partlyinduced, however, by the indiscreet warning of her elders. She wascautioned NOT to take her bread and milk into the woods, and was toldthe affecting story of the little girl who was once regularly visited bya snake that partook of HER bread and milk, and who was ultimately foundrapping the head of the snake for gorging more than his share, and not"taking a 'poon as me do. " It is needless to say that this incautiouscaution fired Peggy's adventurous spirit. SHE took a bowlful of milk tothe haunt of a "rattler" near her home, but, without making the pretenseof sharing it, generously left the whole to the reptile. After repeatingthis hospitality for three or four days, she was amazed one morning onreturning to the house to find the snake--an elderly one with a dozenrattles--devotedly following her. Alarmed, not for her own safety northat of her family, but for the existence of her grateful friend indanger of the blacksmith's hammer, she took a circuitous route leadingit away. Then recalling a bit of woodland lore once communicated to herby a charcoal-burner, she broke a spray of the white ash, and laid itbefore her in the track of the rattlesnake. He stopped instantly, andremained motionless without crossing the slight barrier. She repeatedthis experiment on later occasions, until the reptile understood her. She kept the experience to herself, but one day it was witnessed by atunnelman. On that day Peggy's reputation was made!

From this time henceforth the major part of Blue Cement Ridge becameserious collectors for what was known as "Peggy's menagerie, " and twoof the tunnelmen constructed a stockaded inclosure--not half a milefrom the blacksmith's cabin, but unknown to him--for the reception ofspecimens. For a long time its existence was kept a secret between Peggyand her loyal friends. Her parents, aware of her eccentric tastes onlythrough the introduction of such smaller creatures as lizards, toads, and tarantulas into their house, --which usually escaped from their tincans and boxes and sought refuge in the family slippers, --had frownedupon her zoological studies. Her mother found that her woodland ramblesentailed an extraordinary wear and tear of her clothing. A pinaforereduced to ribbons by a young fox, and a straw hat half swallowed by amountain kid, did not seem to be a natural incident to an ordinarywalk to the schoolhouse. Her sisters thought her tastes "low, " andher familiar association with the miners inconsistent with their owndignity. But Peggy went regularly to school, was a fair scholar inelementary studies (what she knew of natural history, in fact, quitestartled her teachers), and being also a teachable child, was allowedsome latitude. As for Peggy herself, she kept her own faith unshaken;her little creed, whose shibboleth was not "to be afraid" of God'screatures, but to "love 'em, " sustained her through reprimand, tornclothing, and, it is to be feared, occasional bites and scratches fromthe loved ones themselves. 

The unsuspected contiguity of the "menagerie" to the house had itsdrawbacks, and once nearly exposed her. A mountain wolf cub, broughtespecially for her from the higher northern Sierras with great troubleand expense by Jack Ryder, of the Lone Star Lead, unfortunately escapedfrom the menagerie just as the child seemed to be in a fair way oftaming it. Yet it had been already familiarized enough with civilizationto induce it to stop in its flight and curiously examine theblacksmith's shop. A shout from the blacksmith and a hurled hammer sentit flying again, with Mr. Baker and his assistant in full pursuit. Butit quickly distanced them with its long, tireless gallop, and they wereobliged to return to the forge, lost in wonder and conjecture. For theblacksmith had recognized it as a stranger to the locality, and as aman of oracular pretension had a startling theory to account for itspresence. This he confided to the editor of the local paper, and thenext issue contained an editorial paragraph: "Our presage of a severewinter in the higher Sierras, and consequent spring floods in thevalleys, has been startlingly confirmed! Mountain wolves have beenseen in Blue Cement Ridge, and our esteemed fellow citizen, Mr. EphraimBaker, yesterday encountered a half-starved cub entering his premises insearch of food. Mr. Baker is of the opinion that the mother of thecub, driven down by stress of weather, was in the immediate vicinity. "Nothing but the distress of the only responsible mother of the cub, Peggy, and loyalty to her, kept Jack Ryder from exposing the absurditypublicly, but for weeks the camp fires of Blue Cement Ridge shook withthe suppressed and unhallowed joy of the miners, who were in the guiltysecret. 

But, fortunately for Peggy, the most favored of her cherishedpossessions was not obliged to be kept secret. That one exception wasan Indian dog! This was also a gift, and had been procured with great"difficulty" by a "packer" from an Indian encampment on the Oregonfrontier. The "difficulty" was, in plain English, that it had beenstolen from the Indians at some peril to the stealer's scalp. It wasa mongrel to all appearances, of no recognized breed or outwardsignificance, yet of a quality distinctly its own. It was absolutely andtotally uncivilized. Whether this was a hereditary trait, or the resultof degeneracy, no one knew. It refused to enter a house; it would notstay in a kennel. It would not eat in public, but gorged ravenouslyand stealthily in the shadows. It had the slink of a tramp, and in itspatched and mottled hide seemed to simulate the rags of a beggar. It hadthe tirelessness without the affected limp of a coyote. Yet it had noneof the ferocity of barbarians. With teeth that could gnaw through thestoutest rope and toughest lariat, it never bared them in anger. Itwas cringing without being amiable or submissive; it was gentle withoutbeing affectionate. 

Yet almost insensibly it began to yield to Peggy's faith and kindness. Gradually it seemed to single her out as the one being in this vastwhite-faced and fully clothed community that it could trust. Itpresently allowed her to half drag, half lead it to and fro from school, although on the approach of a stranger it would bite through the ropeor frantically endeavor to efface itself in Peggy's petticoats. It wastrying, even to the child's sweet gravity, to face the ridicule excitedby its appearance on the road; and its habit of carrying its tailbetween its legs--at such an inflexible curve that, on the authorityof Sam Bedell, a misstep caused it to "turn a back somersault"--waspainfully disconcerting. But Peggy endured this, as she did the greaterdangers of the High Street in the settlement, where she had often, ather own risk, absolutely to drag the dazed and bewildered creature fromunder the wheels of carts and the heels of horses. But this shynesswore off--or rather was eventually lost in the dog's complete and utterabsorption in Peggy. His limited intelligence and imperfect perceptionswere excited for her alone. His singularly keen scent detected herwherever or how remote she might be. Her passage along a "blind trail, "her deviations from the school path, her more distant excursions, were all mysteriously known to him. It seemed as if his senses wereconcentrated in this one faculty. No matter how unexpected or unfamiliarthe itinerary, "Lo, the poor Indian"--as the men had nicknamed him (inpossible allusion to his "untutored mind")--always arrived promptly andsilently. 

It was to this singular faculty that Peggy owed one of her strangestexperiences. One Saturday afternoon she was returning from an errand tothe village when she was startled by the appearance of Lo in her path. For the reason already given, she no longer took him with her to theseactive haunts of civilization, but had taught him on such occasions toremain as a guard outside the stockade which contained her treasures. After reading him a severe lecture on this flagrant abandonment of histrust, enforced with great seriousness and an admonitory forefinger, she was concerned to see that the animal appeared less agitated by herreproof than by some other disturbance. He ran ahead of her, insteadof at her heels, as was his usual custom, and barked--a thing he rarelydid. Presently she thought she discovered the cause of this in theappearance from the wood of a dozen men armed with guns. They seemed tobe strangers, but among them she recognized the deputy sheriff of thesettlement. The leader noticed her, and, after a word or two with theothers, the deputy approached her. 

"You and Lo had better be scooting home by the highroad, outer this--orye might get hurt, " he said, half playfully, half seriously. 

Peggy looked fearlessly at the men and their guns. 

"Look ez ef you was huntin'?" she said curiously. 

"We are!" said the leader. 

"Wot you huntin'?"

The deputy glanced at the others. "B'ar!" he replied. 

"Ba'r!" repeated the child with the quick resentment which a palpablefalsehood always provoked in her. "There ain't no b'ar in ten miles! Seeyourself huntin' b'ar! Ho!"

The man laughed. "Never you mind, missy, " said the deputy, "you trotalong!" He laid his hand very gently on her head, faced her sunbonnettowards the near highway, gave the usual parting pull to her brownpigtail, added, "Make a bee-line home, " and turned away. 

Lo uttered the first growl known in his history. Whereat Peggy said, with lofty forbearance, "Serve you jest right ef I set my dog on you. "

But force is no argument, and Peggy felt this truth even of herself andLo. So she trotted away. Nevertheless, Lo showed signs of hesitation. After a few moments Peggy herself hesitated and looked back. The menhad spread out under the trees, and were already lost in the woods. Butthere was more than one trail through it, and Peggy knew it. 

And here an alarming occurrence startled her. A curiously striped brownand white squirrel whisked past her and ran up a tree. Peggy's roundeyes became rounder. There was but one squirrel of that kind in all thelength and breadth of Blue Cement Ridge, and that was in the menagerie!Even as she looked it vanished. Peggy faced about and ran back to theroad in the direction of the stockade, Lo bounding before her. Butanother surprise awaited her. There was the clutter of short wingsunder the branches, and the sunlight flashed upon the iris throat of awood-duck as it swung out of sight past her. But in this singleglance Peggy recognized one of the latest and most precious of heracquisitions. There was no mistake now! With a despairing little cry toLo, "The menagerie's broke loose!" she ran like the wind towards it. Shecared no longer for the mandate of the men; the trail she had taken wasout of their sight; they were proceeding so slowly and cautiously thatshe and Lo quickly distanced them in the same direction. She would haveyet time to reach the stockade and secure what was left of her treasuresbefore they came up and drove her away. Yet she had to make a longcircuit to avoid the blacksmith's shop and cabin, before she saw thestockade, lifting its four-foot walls around an inclosure a dozen feetsquare, in the midst of a manzanita thicket. But she could see alsobroken coops, pens, cages, and boxes lying before it, and stopped once, even in her grief and indignation, to pick up a ruby-throated lizard, one of its late inmates that had stopped in the trail, stiffened tostone at her approach. The next moment she was before the rooflesswalls, and then stopped, stiffened like the lizard. For out of thatpeaceful ruin which had once held the wild and untamed vagabonds ofearth and sky, arose a type of savagery and barbarism the child hadnever before looked upon, --the head and shoulders of a hunted, desperateman!

His head was bare, and his hair matted with sweat over his forehead; hisface was unshorn, and the black roots of his beard showed against thedeadly pallor of his skin, except where it was scratched by thorns, or where the red spots over his cheek bones made his cheeks look asif painted. His eyes were as insanely bright, he panted as quickly, heshowed his white teeth as perpetually, his movements were as convulsive, as those captured animals she had known. Yet he did not attempt to fly, and it was only when, with a sudden effort and groan of pain, he halflifted himself above the stockade, that she saw that his leg, bandagedwith his cravat and handkerchief, stained a dull red, dragged helplesslybeneath him. He stared at her vacantly for a moment, and then lookedhurriedly into the wood behind her. 

The child was more interested than frightened, and more curious thaneither. She had grasped the situation at a glance. It was the hunted andthe hunters. Suddenly he started and reached for his rifle, which he hadapparently set down outside when he climbed into the stockade. He hadjust caught sight of a figure emerging from the wood at a distance. Butthe weapon was out of his reach. 

"Hand me that gun!" he said roughly. 

But Peggy did not stir. The figure came more plainly and quiteunconsciously into full view, an easy shot at that distance. 

The man uttered a horrible curse, and turned a threatening face onthe child. But Peggy had seen something like that in animals SHE hadcaptured. She only said gravely, --

"Ef you shoot that gun you'll bring 'em all down on you!"

"All?" he demanded. 

"Yes! a dozen folks with guns like yours, " said Peggy. "You jest crouchdown and lie low. Don't move! Watch me. "

The man dropped below the stockade. Peggy ran swiftly towards theunsuspecting figure, evidently the leader of the party, but deviatedslightly to snatch a tiny spray from a white-ash tree. She never knewthat in that brief interval the wounded man, after a supreme effort, hadpossessed himself of his weapon, and for a moment had covered HER withits deadly muzzle. She ran on fearlessly until she saw that she hadattracted the attention of the leader, when she stopped and began towave the white-ash wand before her. The leader halted, conferred withsome one behind him, who proved to be the deputy sheriff. Stepping outhe advanced towards Peggy, and called sharply, "I told you to get out of this! Come, be quick!"

"You'd better get out yourself, " said Peggy, waving her ash spray, "andquicker, too. "

The deputy stopped, staring at the spray. "Wot's up?"

"Rattlers. "

"Where?"

"Everywhere round ye--a reg'lar nest of 'em! That's your way round!" Shepointed to the right, and again began beating the underbrush with herwand. The men had, meantime, huddled together in consultation. It wasevident that the story of Peggy and her influence on rattlesnakes waswell known, and, in all probability, exaggerated. After a pause, thewhole party filed off to the right, making a long circuit of the unseenstockade, and were presently lost in the distance. Peggy ran back to thefugitive. The fire of savagery and desperation in his eyes had gone out, but had been succeeded by a glazing film of faintness. 

"Can you--get me--some water?" he whispered. 

The stockade was near a spring, --a necessity for the menagerie. Peggybrought him water in a dipper. She sighed a little; her "butcherbird"--now lost forever--had been the last to drink from it!

The water seemed to revive him. "The rattlesnakes scared the cowards, "he said, with an attempt to smile. "Were there many rattlers?"

"There wasn't ANY, " said Peggy, a little spitefully, "'cept YOU--atwo-legged rattler!"

The rascal grinned at the compliment. 

"ONE-legged, you mean, " he said, indicating his helpless limb. 

Peggy's heart relented slightly. "Wot you goin' to do now?" she said. "You can't stay on THERE, you know. It b'longs to ME!" She was generous, but practical. 

"Were those things I fired out yours?"

"Yes. "

"Mighty rough of me. "

Peggy was slightly softened. "Kin you walk?"

"No. "

"Kin you crawl?"

"Not as far as a rattler. "

"Ez far ez that clearin'?"

"Yes. "

"There's a hoss tethered out in that clearin'. I kin shift him to thisend. "

"You're white all through, " said the man gravely. 

Peggy ran off to the clearing. The horse belonged to Sam Bedell, buthe had given Peggy permission to ride it whenever she wished. This wasequivalent, in Peggy's mind, to a permission to PLACE him where shewished. She consequently led him to a point nearest the stockade, and, thoughtfully, close beside a stump. But this took some time, and whenshe arrived she found the fugitive already there, very thin and weak, but still smiling. 

"Ye kin turn him loose when you get through with him; he'll find his wayback, " said Peggy. "Now I must go. "

Without again looking at the man, she ran back to the stockade. Then shepaused until she heard the sound of hoofs crossing the highway in theopposite direction from which the pursuers had crossed, and knew thatthe fugitive had got away. Then she took the astonished and stillmotionless lizard from her pocket, and proceeded to restore the brokencoops and cages to the empty stockade. 

But she never reconstructed her menagerie nor renewed her collection. People said she had tired of her whim, and that really she was gettingtoo old for such things. Perhaps she was. But she never got old enoughto reveal her story of the last wild animal she had tamed by kindness. Nor was she quite sure of it herself, until a few years afterwards onCommencement Day at a boarding-school at San Jose, when they pointed outto her one of the most respectable trustees. But they said he was oncea gambler, who had shot a man with whom he had quarreled, and was nearlycaught and lynched by a Vigilance Committee. 

THE GODDESS OF EXCELSIOR

When the two isolated mining companies encamped on Sycamore Creekdiscovered on the same day the great "Excelsior Lead, " they met arounda neutral camp fire with that grave and almost troubled demeanor whichdistinguished the successful prospector in those days. Perhaps the term"prospectors" could hardly be used for men who had labored patientlyand light-heartedly in the one spot for over three years to gain a dailyyield from the soil which gave them barely the necessaries of life. Perhaps this was why, now that their reward was beyond their mostsanguine hopes, they mingled with this characteristic gravity anambition and resolve peculiarly their own. Unlike most successfulminers, they had no idea of simply realizing their wealth and departingto invest or spend it elsewhere, as was the common custom. On thecontrary, that night they formed a high resolve to stand or fall bytheir claims, to develop the resources of the locality, to build up atown, and to devote themselves to its growth and welfare. And to thispurpose they bound themselves that night by a solemn and legal compact. 

Many circumstances lent themselves to so original a determination. Thelocality was healthful, picturesque, and fertile. Sycamore Creek, aconsiderable tributary of the Sacramento, furnished them a generouswater supply at all seasons; its banks were well wooded andinterspersed with undulating meadow land. Its distance from stage-coachcommunication--nine miles--could easily be abridged by a wagon road overa practically level country. Indeed, all the conditions for a thrivingsettlement were already there. It was natural, therefore, that the mostsanguine anticipations were indulged by the more youthful of the twentymembers of this sacred compact. The sites of a hotel, a bank, theexpress company's office, stage office, and court-house, with othernecessary buildings, were all mapped out and supplemented by a theatre, a public park, and a terrace along the river bank! It was only whenClinton Grey, an intelligent but youthful member, on offering a plan ofthe town with five avenues eighty feet wide, radiating from a centralplaza and the court-house, explained that "it could be commanded byartillery in case of an armed attack upon the building, " that it wasfelt that a line must be drawn in anticipatory suggestion. Nevertheless, although their determination was unabated, at the end of six monthslittle had been done beyond the building of a wagon road and theimportation of new machinery for the working of the lead. Thepeculiarity of their design debarred any tentative or temporary efforts;they wished the whole settlement to spring up in equal perfection, so that the first stage-coach over the new road could arrive upon thecompleted town. "We don't want to show up in a 'b'iled shirt' and a plughat, and our trousers stuck in our boots, " said a figurative speaker. Nevertheless, practical necessity compelled them to build the hotelfirst for their own occupation, pending the erection of their privatedwellings on allotted sites. The hotel, a really elaborate structurefor the locality and period, was a marvel to the workmen and casualteamsters. It was luxuriously fitted and furnished. Yet it was inconnection with this outlay that the event occurred which had a singulareffect upon the fancy of the members. 

Washington Trigg, a Western member, who had brought up the architect andbuilder from San Francisco, had returned in a state of excitement. Hehad seen at an art exhibition in that city a small replica of a famousstatue of California, and, without consulting his fellow members, hadordered a larger copy for the new settlement. He, however, made up forhis precipitancy by an extravagant description of his purchase, whichimpressed even the most cautious. "It's the figger of a mighty prettygirl, in them spirit clothes they allus wear, holding a divinin' rod forfindin' gold afore her in one hand; all the while she's hidin' behindher, in the other hand, a branch o' thorns out of sight. The ideabein'--don't you see?--that blamed old 'forty-niners like us, orordinary greenhorns, ain't allowed to see the difficulties they've gotto go through before reaching a strike. Mighty cute, ain't it? It'sto be made life-size, --that is, about the size of a girl of that kind, don't you see?" he explained somewhat vaguely, "and will look powerfulfetchin' standin' onto a pedestal in the hall of the hotel. " In reply tosome further cautious inquiry as to the exact details of the raimentand of any possible shock to the modesty of lady guests at the hotel, hereplied confidently, "Oh, THAT'S all right! It's the regulation uniformof goddesses and angels, --sorter as if they'd caught up a sheet or acloud to fling round 'em before coming into this world afore folks;and being an allegory, so to speak, it ain't as if it was me or youprospectin' in high water. And, being of bronze, it"--

"Looks like a squaw, eh?" interrupted a critic, "or a cursed Chinaman?"

"And if it's of metal, it will weigh a ton! How are we going to get itup here?" said another. 

But here Mr. Trigg was on sure ground. "I've ordered it cast holler, and, if necessary, in two sections, " he returned triumphantly. "A childcould tote it round and set it up. "

Its arrival was therefore looked forward to with great expectancy whenthe hotel was finished and occupied by the combined Excelsior companies. It was to come from New York via San Francisco, where, however, there was some delay in its transshipment, and still further delay atSacramento. It finally reached the settlement over the new wagonroad, and was among the first freight carried there by the newexpress company, and delivered into the new express office. Thebox--a packing-case, nearly three feet square by five feet long--boresuperficial marks of travel and misdirection, inasmuch as the originaladdress was quite obliterated and the outside lid covered with correctedlabels. It was carried to a private sitting-room in the hotel, whereits beauty was to be first disclosed to the president of the unitedcompanies, three of the committee, and the excited and triumphantpurchaser. A less favored crowd of members and workmen gatheredcuriously outside the room. Then the lid was carefully removed, revealing a quantity of shavings and packing paper which still hid theoutlines of the goddess. When this was promptly lifted a stare of blankastonishment fixed the faces of the party! It was succeeded by a quick, hysteric laugh, and then a dead silence. 

Before them lay a dressmaker's dummy, the wire and padded model onwhich dresses are fitted and shown. With its armless and headless bust, abruptly ending in a hooped wire skirt, it completely filled the sidesof the box. 

"Shut the door, " said the president promptly. 

The order was obeyed. The single hysteric shriek of laughter had beenfollowed by a deadly, ironical silence. The president, with supernaturalgravity, lifted it out and set it up on its small, round, disk-likepedestal. 

"It's some cussed fool blunder of that confounded express company, "burst out the unlucky purchaser. But there was no echo to his outburst. He looked around with a timid, tentative smile. But no other smilefollowed his. 

"It looks, " said the president, with portentous gravity, "like thebeginnings of a fine woman, that MIGHT show up, if you gave her time, into a first-class goddess. Of course she ain't all here; other boxeswith sections of her, I reckon, are under way from her factory, and willmeander along in the course of the year. Considerin' this as a sample--Ithink, gentlemen, " he added, with gloomy precision, "we are prepared toaccept it, and signify we'll take more. "

"It ain't, perhaps, exactly the idee that we've been led to expect fromprevious description, " said Dick Flint, with deeper seriousness; "forinstance, this yer branch of thorns we heard of ez bein' held behind heris wantin', as is the arms that held it; but even if they had arrived, anybody could see the thorns through them wires, and so give the hullshow away. "

"Jam it into its box again, and we'll send it back to the confoundedexpress company with a cussin' letter, " again thundered the wretchedpurchaser. 

"No, sonny, " said the president with gentle but gloomy determination, "we'll fasten on to this little show jest as it is, and see whatfollows. It ain't every day that a first-class sell like this is workedoff on us ACCIDENTALLY. "

It was quite true! The settlement had long since exhausted everypossible form of practical joking, and languished for a new sensation. And here it was! It was not a thing to be treated angrily, nor lightly, nor dismissed with that single hysteric laugh. It was capable of thegreatest possibilities! Indeed, as Washington Trigg looked around on theimperturbably ironical faces of his companions, he knew that they feltmore true joy over the blunder than they would in the possession of thereal statue. But an exclamation from the fifth member, who was examiningthe box, arrested their attention. 

"There's suthin' else here!"

He had found under the heavier wrapping a layer of tissue-paper, andunder that a further envelope of linen, lightly stitched together. Aknife blade quickly separated the stitches, and the linen was carefullyunfolded. It displayed a beautifully trimmed evening dress of pale bluesatin, with a dressing-gown of some exquisite white fabric armed withlace. The men gazed at it in silence, and then the one single expressionbroke from their lips, --

"Her duds!"

"Stop, boys, " said "Clint" Grey, as a movement was made to lift thedress towards the model, "leave that to a man who knows. What's theuse of my having left five grown-up sisters in the States if I haven'tbrought a little experience away with me? This sort of thing ain't to be'pulled on' like trousers. No, sir!--THIS is the way she's worked. "

With considerable dexterity, unexpected gentleness, and some taste, he shook out the folds of the skirt delicately and lifted it over thedummy, settling it skillfully upon the wire hoops, and drawing thebodice over the padded shoulders. This he then proceeded to fasten withhooks and eyes, --a work of some patience. Forty eager fingers stretchedout to assist him, but were waved aside, with a look of pained decorumas he gravely completed his task. Then falling back, he bade the othersdo the same, and they formed a contemplative semicircle before thefigure. 

Up to that moment a delighted but unsmiling consciousness of their ownabsurdities, a keen sense of the humorous possibilities of theoriginal blunder, and a mischievous recognition of the mortification ofTrigg--whose only safety now lay in accepting the mistake in the samespirit--had determined these grown-up schoolboys to artfully protracta joke that seemed to be providentially delivered into their hands. ButNOW an odd change crept on them. The light from the open window thatgave upon the enormous pines and the rolling prospect up to thedim heights of the Sierras fell upon this strange, incongruous, yetperfectly artistic figure. For the dress was the skillful creation of agreat Parisian artist, and in its exquisite harmony of color, shape, and material it not only hid the absurd model, but clothed it with analarming grace and refinement! A queer feeling of awe, of shame, and ofunwilling admiration took possession of them. Some of them--fromremote Western towns--had never seen the like before; those who HAD hadforgotten it in those five years of self-exile, of healthy independence, and of contiguity to Nature in her unaffected simplicity. All had beenfamiliar with the garish, extravagant, and dazzling femininity ofthe Californian towns and cities, but never had they known anythingapproaching the ideal grace of this type of exalted, even if artificial, womanhood. And although in the fierce freedom of their little republicthey had laughed to scorn such artificiality, a few yards of satin andlace cunningly fashioned, and thrown over a frame of wood and wire, touched them now with a strange sense of its superiority. The betterto show its attractions, Clinton Grey had placed the figure near afull-length, gold-framed mirror, beside a marble-topped table. Yet howcheap and tawdry these splendors showed beside this work of art! Howcruel was the contrast of their own rough working clothes to thismiracle of adornment which that same mirror reflected! And even whenClinton Grey, the enthusiast, looked towards his beloved woods forrelief, he could not help thinking of them as a more fitting frame forthis strange goddess than this new house into which she had strayed. Their gravity became real; their gibes in some strange way had vanished. 

"Must have cost a pile of money, " said one, merely to break anembarrassing silence. 

"My sister had a friend who brought over a dress from Paris, not ashigh-toned as that, that cost five hundred dollars, " said Clinton Grey. 

"How much did you say that spirit-clad old rag of yours cost--thorns andall?" said the president, turning sharply on Trigg. 

Trigg swallowed this depreciation of his own purchase meekly. "Sevenhundred and fifty dollars, without the express charges. "

"That's only two-fifty more, " said the president thoughtfully, "if wecall it quits. "

"But, " said Trigg in alarm, "we must send it back. "

"Not much, sonny, " said the president promptly. "We'll hang on to thisuntil we hear where that thorny old chump of yours has fetched up and isactin' her conundrums, and mebbe we can swap even. "

"But how will we explain it to the boys?" queried Trigg. "They'rewaitin' outside to see it. "

"There WON'T be any explanation, " said the president, in the same toneof voice in which he had ordered the door shut. "We'll just say thatthe statue hasn't come, which is the frozen truth; and this box onlycontained some silk curtain decorations we'd ordered, which is onlyhalf a lie. And, " still more firmly, "THIS SECRET DOESN'T GO OUT OF THISROOM, GENTLEMEN--or I ain't your president! I'm not going to let yougive yourselves away to that crowd outside--you hear me? Have you everallowed your unfettered intellect to consider what they'd say aboutthis, --what a godsend it would be to every man we'd ever had a 'pull' onin this camp? Why, it would last 'em a whole year; we'd never hear theend of it! No, gentlemen! I prefer to live here without shootin' myfellow man, but I can't promise it if they once start this joke aginus!"

There was a swift approval of this sentiment, and the five members shookhands solemnly. 

"Now, " said the president, "we'll just fold up that dress again, and putit with the figure in this closet"--he opened a large dressing-chestin the suite of rooms in which they stood--"and we'll each keep a key. We'll retain this room for committee purposes, so that no one need seethe closet. See? Now take off the dress! Be careful there! You're nothandlin' pay dirt, though it's about as expensive! Steady!"

Yet it was wonderful to see the solicitude and care with which the dresswas re-covered and folded in its linen wrapper. 

"Hold on, " exclaimed Trigg, --as the dummy was lifted into thechest, --"we haven't tried on the other dress!"

"Yes! yes!" repeated the others eagerly; "there's another!"

"We'll keep that for next committee meeting, gentlemen, " said thepresident decisively. "Lock her up, Trigg. "

The three following months wrought a wonderful change inExcelsior, --wonderful even in that land of rapid growth and progress. Their organized and matured plans, executed by a full force of workmenfrom the county town, completed the twenty cottages for the members, thebank, and the town hall. Visitors and intending settlers flocked overthe new wagon road to see this new Utopia, whose founders, holding theland and its improvements as a corporate company, exercised the rightof dictating the terms on which settlers were admitted. The feminineinvasion was not yet potent enough to affect their consideration, eitherthrough any refinement or attractiveness, being composed chiefly of theindustrious wives and daughters of small traders or temporary artisans. Yet it was found necessary to confide the hotel to the management of Mr. Dexter Marsh, his wife, and one intelligent but somewhat plain daughter, who looked after the accounts. There were occasional lady visitors atthe hotel, attracted from the neighboring towns and settlements byits picturesqueness and a vague suggestiveness of its being awatering-place--and there was the occasional flash in the decorousstreet of a Sacramento or San Francisco gown. It is needless to say thatto the five men who held the guilty secret of Committee Room No. 4 itonly strengthened their belief in the super-elegance of their hiddentreasure. At their last meeting they had fitted the second dress--whichturned out to be a vapory summer house-frock or morning wrapper--overthe dummy, and opinions were divided as to its equality with the first. However, the same subtle harmony of detail and grace of proportioncharacterized it. 

"And you see, " said Clint Grey, "it's jest the sort o' rig in which aman would be most likely to know her--and not in her war-paint, whichwould be only now and then. "

Already "SHE" had become an individuality!

"Hush!" said the president. He had turned towards the door, at whichsome one was knocking lightly. 

"Come in. "

The door opened upon Miss Marsh, secretary and hotel assistant. She hada business aspect, and an open letter in her hand, but hesitated atthe evident confusion she had occasioned. Two of the gentlemen hadabsolutely blushed, and the others regarded her with inane smiles oraffected seriousness. They all coughed slightly. 

"I beg your pardon, " she said, not ungracefully, a slight color cominginto her sallow cheek, which, in conjunction with the gold eye-glasses, gave her, at least in the eyes of the impressible Clint, a certainpiquancy. "But my father said you were here in committee and I mightconsult you. I can come again, if you are busy. "

She had addressed the president, partly from his office, hiscomparatively extreme age--he must have been at least thirty!--andpossibly for his extremer good looks. He said hurriedly, "It's just aninformal meeting;" and then, more politely, "What can we do for you?"

"We have an application for a suite of rooms next week, " she said, referring to the letter, "and as we shall be rather full, father thoughtyou gentlemen might be willing to take another larger room for yourmeetings, and give up these, which are part of a suite--and perhaps notexactly suitable"--

"Quite impossible!" "Quite so!" "Really out of the question, " said themembers, in a rapid chorus. 

The young girl was evidently taken aback at this unanimity ofopposition. She stared at them curiously, and then glanced around theroom. "We're quite comfortable here, " said the president explanatorily, "and--in fact--it's just what we want. "

"We could give you a closet like that which you could lock up, and amirror, " she suggested, with the faintest trace of a smile. 

"Tell your father, Miss Marsh, " said the president, with dignifiedpoliteness, "that while we cannot submit to any change, we fullyappreciate his business foresight, and are quite prepared to see thatthe hotel is properly compensated for our retaining these rooms. " As theyoung girl withdrew with a puzzled curtsy he closed the door, placed hisback against it, and said, --

"What the deuce did she mean by speaking of that closet?"

"Reckon she allowed we kept some fancy drinks in there, " said Trigg;"and calkilated that we wanted the marble stand and mirror to put ourglasses on and make it look like a swell private bar, that's all!"

"Humph, " said the president. 

Their next meeting, however, was a hurried one, and as the presidentarrived late, when the door closed smartly behind him he was met by theworried faces of his colleagues. 

"Here's a go!" said Trigg excitedly, producing a folded paper. "Thegame's up, the hull show is busted; that cussed old statue--the reg'larold hag herself--is on her way here! There's a bill o' lading and theexpress company's letter, and she'll be trundled down here by express atany moment. "

"Well?" said the president quietly. 

"Well!" replied the members aghast. "Do you know what that means?"

"That we must rig her up in the hall on a pedestal, as we reckoned todo, " returned the president coolly. 

"But you don't sabe, " said Clinton Grey; "that's all very well as to thehag, but now we must give HER up, " with an adoring glance towards thecloset. 

"Does the letter say so?"

"No, " said Trigg hesitatingly, "no! But I reckon we can't keep BOTH. "

"Why not?" said the president imperturbably, "if we paid for 'em?"

As the men only stared in reply he condescended to explain. 

"Look here! I calculated all these risks after our last meeting. Whileyou boys were just fussin' round, doin' nothing, I wrote to the expresscompany that a box of women's damaged duds had arrived here, while wewere looking for our statue; that you chaps were so riled at bein'sold by them that you dumped the whole blamed thing in the creek. But Iadded, if they'd let me know what the damage was, I'd send 'em a draftto cover it. After a spell of waitin' they said they'd call it squarefor two hundred dollars, considering our disappointment. And I sent thedraft. That's spurred them up to get over our statue, I reckon. And, nowthat it's coming, it will set us right with the boys. "

"And SHE, " said Clinton Grey again, pointing to the locked chest, "belongs to us?"

"Until we can find some lady guest that will take her with the rooms, "returned the president, a little cynically. 

But the arrival of the real statue and its erection in the hotelvestibule created a new sensation. The members of the Excelsior Companywere loud in its praises except the executive committee, whose coolnesswas looked upon by the others as an affectation of superiority. Itawakened the criticism and jealousy of the nearest town. 

"We hear, " said the "Red Dog Advertiser, " "that the long-promised statuehas been put up in that high-toned Hash Dispensary they call a hotelat Excelsior. It represents an emaciated squaw in a scanty blanketgathering roots, and carrying a bit of thorn-bush kindlings behind her. The high-toned, close corporation of Excelsior may consider this a fairallegory of California; WE should say it looks mighty like a propheticforecast of a hard winter on Sycamore Creek and scarcity of provisions. However, it isn't our funeral, though it's rather depressing to thecasual visitor on his way to dinner. For a long time this work ofart was missing and supposed to be lost, but by being sternly andpersistently rejected at every express office on the route, it was atlast taken in at Excelsior. "

There was some criticism nearer home. 

"What do you think of it, Miss Marsh?" said the president politely tothat active young secretary, as he stood before it in the hall. Theyoung woman adjusted her eye-glasses over her aquiline nose. 

"As an idea or a woman, sir?"

"As a woman, madam, " said the president, letting his brown eyes slipfor a moment from Miss Marsh's corn-colored crest over her straight butscant figure down to her smart slippers. 

"Well, sir, she could wear YOUR boots, and there isn't a corset inSacramento would go round her. "

"Thank you!" he returned gravely, and moved away. For a moment a wildidea of securing possession of the figure some dark night, and, incompany with his fellow-conspirators, of trying those beautiful clothesupon her, passed through his mind, but he dismissed it. And thenoccurred a strange incident, which startled even his cool, Americansanity. 

It was a beautiful moonlight night, and he was returning to a bedroomat the hotel which he temporarily occupied during the painting ofhis house. It was quite late, he having spent the evening with a SanFrancisco friend after a business conference which assured him of theremarkable prosperity of Excelsior. It was therefore with some humanexaltation that he looked around the sleeping settlement which hadsprung up under the magic wand of their good fortune. The full moon hadidealized their youthful designs with something of their own youthfulcoloring, graciously softening the garish freshness of paint andplaster, hiding with discreet obscurity the disrupted banks and brokenwoods at the beginning and end of their broad avenues, paving the roughriver terrace with tessellated shadows, and even touching the rapidstream which was the source of their wealth with a Pactolean glitter. 

The windows of the hotel before him, darkened within, flashed in themoonbeams like the casements of Aladdin's palace. Mingled with hisambition, to-night, were some softer fancies, rarely indulged by him inhis forecast of the future of Excelsior--a dream of some fair partnerin his life, after this task was accomplished, yet always of some onemoving in a larger world than his youth had known. Rousing the halfsleeping porter, he found, however, only the spectral gold-seeker inthe vestibule, --the rays of his solitary candle falling upon herdivining-rod with a quaint persistency that seemed to point to thestairs he was ascending. When he reached the first landing the risingwind through an open window put out his light, but, although thestaircase was in darkness, he could see the long corridor aboveilluminated by the moonlight throughout its whole length. He had nearlyreached it when the slow but unmistakable rustle of a dress in thedistance caught his ear. He paused, not only in the interest ofdelicacy, but with a sudden nervous thrill he could not account for. Therustle came nearer--he could hear the distinct frou-frou of satin; andthen, to his bewildered eyes, what seemed to be the figure of thedummy, arrayed in the pale blue evening dress he knew so well, passedgracefully and majestically down the corridor. He could see the shapelyfolds of the skirt, the symmetry of the bodice, even the harmony of thetrimmings. He raised his eyes, half affrightedly, prepared to seethe headless shoulders, but they--and what seemed to be a head--wereconcealed in a floating "cloud" or nubia of some fleecy tissue, asif for protection from the evening air. He remained for an instantmotionless, dazed by this apparent motion of an inanimate figure; butas the absurdity of the idea struck him he hurriedly but stealthilyascended the remaining stairs, resolved to follow it. But he was only intime to see it turn into the angle of another corridor, which, when hehad reached it, was empty. The figure had vanished!

His first thought was to go to the committee room and examine the lockedcloset. But the key was in his desk at home, he had no light, and theroom was on the other side of the house. Besides, he reflected thateven the detection of the figure would involve the exposure of the verysecret they had kept intact so long. He sought his bedroom, and wentquietly to bed. But not to sleep; a curiosity more potent than any senseof the trespass done him kept him tossing half the night. Who was thiswoman whom the clothes fitted so well? He reviewed in his mind theguests in the house, but he knew none who could have carried off thismasquerade so bravely. 

In the morning early he made his way to the committee room, but as heapproached was startled to observe two pairs of boots, a man's and awoman's, conjugally placed before its door. Now thoroughly indignant, he hurried to the office, and was confronted by the face of the fairsecretary. She colored quickly on seeing him--but the reason wasobvious. 

"You are coming to scold me, sir! But it is not my fault. We were fullyesterday afternoon when your friend from San Francisco came here withhis wife. We told him those were YOUR rooms, but he said he would makeit right with you--and my father thought you would not be displeasedfor once. Everything of yours was put into another room, and the closetremains locked as you left it. "

Amazed and bewildered, the president could only mutter a vague apologyand turn away. Had his friend's wife opened the door with another key insome fit of curiosity and disported herself in those clothes? If so, sheDARE not speak of her discovery. 

An introduction to the lady at breakfast dispelled this faint hope. Shewas a plump woman, whose generous proportions could hardly have beenconfined in that pale blue bodice; she was frank and communicative, withno suggestion of mischievous concealment. 

Nevertheless, he made a firm resolution. As soon as his friends lefthe called a meeting of the committee. He briefly informed them of theaccidental occupation of the room, but for certain reasons of his ownsaid nothing of his ghostly experience. But he put it to them plainlythat no more risks must be run, and that he should remove the dressesand dummy to his own house. To his considerable surprise this suggestionwas received with grave approval and a certain strange relief. 

"We kinder thought of suggesting it to you before, " said Mr. Triggslowly, "and that mebbe we've played this little game long enough--forsuthin's happened that's makin' it anything but funny. We'd have toldyou before, but we dassent! Speak out, Clint, and tell the presidentwhat we saw the other night, and don't mince matters. "

The president glanced quickly and warningly around him. "I thought, " hesaid sternly, "that we'd dropped all fooling. It's no time for practicaljoking now!"

"Honest Injun--it's gospel truth! Speak up, Clint!"

The president looked on the serious faces around him, and was himselfslightly awed. 

"It's a matter of two or three nights ago, " said Grey slowly, "thatTrigg and I were passing through Sycamore Woods, just below the hotel. It was after twelve--bright moonlight, so that we could see everythingas plain as day, and we were dead sober. Just as we passed under thesycamores Trigg grabs my arm, and says, 'Hi!' I looked up, and there, not ten yards away, standing dead in the moonlight, was that dummy! Shewas all in white--that dress with the fairy frills, you know--and had, what's more, A HEAD! At least, something white all wrapped around it, and over her shoulders. At first we thought you or some of the boyshad dressed her up and lifted her out there for a joke, and left herto frighten us! So we started forward, and then--it's the gospeltruth!--she MOVED AWAY, gliding like the moonbeams, and vanished amongthe trees!"

"Did you see her face?" asked the president. 

"No; you bet! I didn't try to--it would have haunted me forever. "

"What do you mean?"

"This--I mean it was that GIRL THE BOX BELONGED TO! She's deadsomewhere--as you'll find out sooner or later--AND HAS COME BACK FOR HERCLOTHES! I've often heard of such things before. "

Despite his coolness, at this corroboration of his own experience, and impressed by Grey's unmistakable awe, a thrill went through thepresident. For an instant he was silent. 

"That will do, boys, " he said finally. "It's a queer story; butremember, it's all the more reason now for our keeping our secret. Asfor those things, I'll remove them quietly and at once. "

But he did not. 

On the contrary, prolonging his stay at the hotel with plausiblereasons, he managed to frequently visit the committee room or itsvicinity, at different and unsuspected hours of the day and night. More than that, he found opportunities to visit the office, and underpretexts of business connected with the economy of the hotel management, informed himself through Miss Marsh on many points. A few of thesedetails naturally happened to refer to herself, her prospects, hertastes, and education. He learned incidentally, what he had partlyknown, that her father had been in better circumstances, and that shehad been gently nurtured--though of this she made little account in herpride in her own independence and devotion to her duties. But in hisown persistent way he also made private notes of the breadth of hershoulders, the size of her waist, her height, length of her skirt, hermovements in walking, and other apparently extraneous circumstances. Itwas natural that he acquired some supplemental facts, --that hereyes, under her eye-glasses, were a tender gray, and touched with themelancholy beauty of near-sightedness; that her face had a sensitivemobility beyond the mere charm of color, and like most people lackingthis primitive and striking element of beauty, what was really fineabout her escaped the first sight. As, for instance, it was onlyby bending over to examine her accounts that he found that herindistinctive hair was as delicate as floss silk and as electrical. Itwas only by finding her romping with the children of a guest one eveningthat he was startled by the appalling fact of her youth! But about thistime he left the hotel and returned to his house. 

On the first yearly anniversary of the great strike at Excelsior therewere some changes in the settlement, notably the promotion of Mr. Marshto a more important position in the company, and the installation ofMiss Cassie Marsh as manageress of the hotel. As Miss Marsh read theofficial letter, signed by the president, conveying in complimentary butformal terms this testimony of their approval and confidence, her liptrembled slightly, and a tear trickling from her light lashes dimmedher eye-glasses, so that she was fain to go up to her room to recoverherself alone. When she did so she was startled to find a wire dummystanding near the door, and neatly folded upon the bed two elegantdresses. A note in the president's own hand lay beside them. A swiftblush stung her cheek as she read, --

DEAR MISS MARSH, --Will you make me happy by keeping the secret that noother woman but yourself knows, and by accepting the clothes that noother woman but yourself can wear?

The next moment, with the dresses over her arm and the ridiculous dummyswinging by its wires from her other hand, she was flying down thestaircase to Committee Room No. 4. The door opened upon its soleoccupant, the president. 

"Oh, sir, how cruel of you!" she gasped. "It was only a joke of mine. . . . I always intended to tell you. . . . It was very foolish, but itseemed so funny. . . . You see, I thought it was . . . The dress youhad bought for your future intended--some young lady you were going tomarry!"

"It is!" said the president quietly, and he closed the door behind her. 

And it was.