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The Girl Of
The Golden West
David Belasco



IVETRINA
TASS
Harvard College Library
THE GIFT OF
Howard
S. Matt, Jr.
A FRIEND OF THE LIBRARY





NASIR
WA
******** masa s
enance






IN MA
She turns and faces the Western Hills :-“Cali-
fornia, my Golden West”


° The Girl of the
Golden West
NOVELIZED FROM THE PLAY
BY
DAVID BELASCO
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
J. N. MARCHAND
SOWIE

NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1911


Alaitlilien
VARVARD COLLES
JUN 26 1939
118KARY
Howard L.mot, ŷn
Copyright, 1911,
BY DODD, MEAD & Co.
All rights reserved
Published, October, 1911


ILLUSTRATIONS
She turns and faces the Western Hills:
“ California, my Golden West". . Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
“ Boys ... I vouch to Cloudy for Mr. Johnson " 126
“Mr. Johnson, come down"
MII. Joinson, come down
.
.
•
:
254
“This is our verdict and we are prepared to stand by it” 334





“In those strange days, people coming from
God knows where, joined forces in that far
Western land, and, according to the rude cus-
tom of the camp, their very names were soon
lost and unrecorded, and here they struggled,
laughed, gambled, cursed, killed, loved and
worked out their strange destinies in a manner
incredible to us of to-day. Of one thing only
are we sure — they lived!”
Early History of California.





I
It was when coming back to the mines, after a trip
to Monterey, that the Girl first met him. It hap-
pened, too, just at a time when her mind was ripe to
receive a lasting impression. But of all this the boys
of Cloudy Mountain Camp heard not a word, need-
less to say, until long afterwards.
Lolling back on the rear seat of the stage, her
eyes half closed, — the sole passenger now, and with
the seat in front piled high with boxes and baskets
containing rebozos, silken souvenirs, and other finery
purchased in the shops of the old town,- the Girl
was mentally reviewing and dreaming of the delights
of her week's visit there,- a visit that had been a
revelation to one whose sole experience of the world
had until now been derived from life in a rough min-
ing camp. Before her half-closed eyes still shim-
mered a vista of strange, exotic scenes and people,
the thronging crowds of carnivals and fêtes; the
Mexican girls swaying through the movements of the
fandango to the music of guitars and castanets; the
great rodeo with its hundreds of vaqueros, which
was held at one of the ranchos just outside the town;
and, lastly, and most vividly of all, the never-to-be-
forgotten thrill of her first bull-fight.
Still ringing in her ears was the piercing note of the


2 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
bugle which instantly silenced the expectant throng;
the hoarse roar that greeted the entrance of the bull,
and the thunder of his hoofs when he made his first
mad charge. She saw again, with marvellous fidel-
ity, the whole colour-scheme just before the death
of the big, brave beast: the huge arena in its un-
rivalled setting of mountain, sea and sky; the eager
multitude, tense with expectancy; the silver-mounted
bridles and trappings of the horses; the ma
capes of the capadors; the gaily-dressed banderil-
leros, poising their beribboned barbs; the red flag and
long, slender, flashing sword of the cool and ever
watchful matador; and, most prominent of all to her
eyes, the brilliant, gold-laced packets of the gentle-
men-picadors, who, after the Mexican fashion,- so
she had been told, — deemed it in nowise beneath
them to enter the arena in person.
And so it happened that now, as the stage swung
round a corner, and a horseman suddenly appeared
at a point where two roads converged, and was evi-
dently spurring his horse with the intent of coming
up with the stage, it was only natural that, even be-
fore he was near enough to be identified, the cabal-
lero should already have become a part of the pag-
eant of her mental picture.
Up to the moment of the stranger's appearance,
nothing had happened to break the monotony of her
long return journey towards Cloudy Mountain
ro
CO


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 3
Camp. Far back in the distance now lay the Mis-
sion where the passengers of the stage had been
hospitably entertained the night before; still further
back the red-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls of
the little pueblo of San Jose, — a veritable bower of
roses; and remotest of all, the crosses of San Carlos
and the great pines, oaks and cypresses, which bor-
dered her dream-memory of the white-beach crescent
formed by the waves of Monterey Bay.
The dawn of each day that swept her further from
her week in wonderland had ushered in the match-
less spring weather of California, - the brilliant sun-
shine, the fleecy clouds, the gentle wind with just a
tang in it from the distant mountains; and as the
stage rolled slowly northward through beautiful
valleys, bright with yellow poppies and silver-white
lupines, every turn of the road varied her view of the
hills lying under an enchantment unlike that of any
other land. Yet strange and full of interest as every
mile of the river country should have been to a girl
accustomed to the great forest of the Sierras, she had
gazed upon it for the most part with unseeing eyes,
while her thoughts turned, magnet-like, backward to
the delights and the bewilderment of the old Mexi-
can town. So now, as the pursuing horseman swept
rapidly nearer, each swinging stride of the powerful
horse, each rhythmic movement of the graceful rider
brought nearer and more vivid the vision of a hand-


4 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
some picador holding off with his lance a thoroughly
maddened bull until the crowd roared forth its ap-
preciation.
“See, Senorita," said the horseman, at last gal-
loping close to the coach and lifting his sombrero,
“ A beautiful bunch of syringa,” and then, with his
face bent towards her and his voice full of appeal,
he added in lower tone: “ for you!”
For a brief second, the Girl was too much taken
back to find the adequate words with which to accept
the stranger's offering. Notwithstanding that in his
glance she could read, as plainly as though he had
spoken: “I know I am taking a liberty, but please
don't be angry with me," there was something in his
sweeping bow and grace of manner that, coupled
with her vague sense of his social advantage, discon-
certed her. A second more, however, and the em-
barrassment had passed, for on lifting her eyes to his
again she saw that her memory had not played her
false; beyond all chance of a mistake, he was the man
who, ten days earlier, had peered into the stage, as
she was nearing Monterey, and later, at the bull-
fight, had found time to shoot admiring glances at
her between his daring feats of horsemanship.
Therefore, genuine admiration was in her eyes and
extreme cordiality in her voice when, after a word
or two of thanks, she added, with great frankness:
“But it strikes me sort o' forcible that I've seen


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 5.
you before.” Then, with growing enthusiasm:
“My, but that bull-fight was jest grand! You were
fine! I'm right glad to know you, sir."
The caballero's face flushed with pleasure at her
free-and-easy reception of him, while an almost in-
audible “ Gracias " fell from his lips. At once he
knew that his first surmise, that the Girl was an
American, had been correct. Not that his experi-
ence in life had furnished him with any parallel, for
the Girl constituted a new and unique type. But he
was well aware that no Spanish lady would have re-
ceived the advances of a stranger in like fashion.
It was inevitable, therefore, that for the moment he
should contrast, and not wholly to her advantage, the
Girl's unconventionality with the enforced reserve
of the dulcineas who, custom decrees, may not be
courted save in the presence of duennas. But the
next instant he recalled that there were, in Sacra-
mento, young women whose directness it would never
do to mistake for boldness; and, to his credit be
it said, — he was quick to perceive that, however in-
different the Girl seemed to the customary formality
of introduction, there was no suggestion of indelicacy
about her. All that her frank and easy manner sug-
gested was that she was a child of nature, spontane-
ous and untrammelled by the dictates of society, and
normally and healthily at home in the company of the
opposite sex.


6 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“And she is even more beautiful than I sup-
posed,” was the thought that went through his mind.
And yet, the Girl was not beautiful, at least if
judged by Spanish or Californian standards. Un-
like most of their women, she was fair, and her type
purely American. Her eyes of blue were lightly
but clearly browed and abundantly fringed; her hair
of burnished gold was luxuriant and wavy, and
framed a face of singularly frank and happy expres-
sion, even though the features lacked regularity.
But it was a face, so he told himself, that any man
would trust, — a face that would make a man the
better for looking at it, - a face which reflected a
soul that no environment could make other than pure
and spotless. And so there was, perhaps, a shade
more of respect and a little less assurance in his man-
ner when he asked:
“And you like Monterey ?".
“I love it! Ain't it romantic — an', my, what a
fine time the girls there must have!”
The man laughed; the Girl's enthusiasm amused
him.
“Have you had a fine trip so far?” he asked, for
want of something better to say.
“Mercy, yes! This 'ere stage is a pokey ol'
thing, but we've made not bad time, considerin'."
“I thought you were never going to get here!"
The Girl shot a coquettish glance at him.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 7
“How did you know I was comin' on this 'ere
stage?"
“I did not know,"— the stranger broke off and
thought a moment. He may have been asking him-
self whether it were best for him to be as frank as
she had been and admit his admiration for her; at
last, encouraged perhaps by a look in the Girl's blue
eyes, he ventured: “ But I've been riding along this
road every day since I saw you. I felt that I must
see you again."
“You must like me powerful well. . . ? "
This remark, far from being a question, was accom-
panied with all the physiognomical evidences of an
assertion.
The stranger shot a surprised glance at her, out
of the corner of his eye. Then he admitted, in all
truthfulness :
“Of course I do. Who could help . . .?"
“Have you tried not to?” questioned the Girl,
smiling in his face now, and enjoying in the full this
stolen intimacy.
“Ah, Senorita, why should I ... ? All I
know is that I do."
The Girl became reflective; presently she ob-
served:
“How funny it seems, an yet, p'r’aps not so
strange after all. The boys — all my boys at the
camp like me — I'm glad you do, too."


8 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Meanwhile the good-natured and loquaciously-in-
clined driver had turned his head and was subjecting
the man cantering alongside of his stage to a rigid
inspection. With his knowledge of the various
types of men in California at that time, he had no
difficulty in placing the status of this straight-limbed,
broad-shouldered, young fellow as a native Califor-
nian. Moreover, it made no difference to him
whether his passenger had met an old acquaintance
or not; it was sufficient for him to observe that the
lady, as well as himself — for the expression on her
face could by no means be described as bored or
scornful — liked the stranger's appearance; and so
the better to take in all the points of the magnificent
horse which the young Californian was riding, not
to mention a commendable desire to give his only
passenger a bit of pleasant diversion on the long
journey, he slowed his horse down to a walk.
“But where do you live? You have a rancho
near here?" the Girl was now asking.
“My father has — I live with him."
“Any sisters ?"
“No,- no sisters or brothers. My mother was
an American; she died a few years ago." And so
saying, his glance sought and obtained an answering
one full of sympathy.
" I'm downright sorry for you,” said the Girl with
feeling; and then in the next breath she added:
was


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 9
" But I'm pleased you're - you're half Ameri-
can."
ore
“And you, Señorita ?”.
“I'm an orphan — my family are all dead," re-
plied the Girl in a low voice. “But I have my
boys,” she went on more cheerfully, “an' what more
do I need?” And then before he had time to ask
her to explain what she meant by the boys, she cried
out: “Oh, jest look at them wonderful berries over
yonder! La, how I wish I could pick 'em!”
"Perhaps you may," the stranger hastened to say,
and instantly with his free hand he made a move-
ment to assist her to alight, while with the other he
checked his horse; then, with his eyes resting appeal-
ingly upon the driver, he inquired: “ It is possible,
is it not, Señor?"
Curiously enough, this apparently proper request
was responsible for changing the whole aspect of
things. For, keenly desirous to oblige him, though
she was, there was something in the stranger's eyes
as they now rested upon her that made her feel sud-
denly shy; a flood of new impressions assailed her:
she wanted to evade the look and yet foster it; but
the former impulse was the stronger, and for the
first time she was conscious of a growing feeling of
restraint. Indeed, some inner voice told her that
it would not be quite right for her to leave the stage.
True, she belonged to Cloudy Mountain Camp
cas


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST II
turned to speak, but the tender, sorrowful expression
that she saw on the young man's face kept her silent.
“That is one of my father's men,” he said, some-
what solemnly. “His presence here may mean that
I must leave you. The road to our ranch begins
there. I fear that something may be wrong."
The Girl shot him a look of sympathetic inquiry,
though she said nothing. To tell the truth, the first
thought that entered her mind at his words was one
of concern that their companionship was likely to
cease abruptly. During the silence that preceded
his outspoken premonition of trouble, she had been
studying him closely. She found herself admiring:
his aquiline features, his olive-coloured skin with its:
healthful pallor, the lazy, black Spanish eyes behind
which, however tranquil they generally were, it was
easy for her to discern, when he smiled, that reck-
less and indomitable spirit which appeals to women
all the world over.
As the stage approached the motionless horseman,
the young man cried out to the vaquero, for such he
was, and asked in Spanish whether he had a message
for him; an answer came back in the same language,
the meaning of which the Girl failed to comprehend.
A moment later her companion turned to her and
said:
“ It is as I feared."
Once more a silence fell upon them. For a half
women


'12 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
mile or so, apparently deep in thought, he continued
to canter at her side; at last he spoke what was in his
mind.
“I hate to leave you, Señorita," he said.
In an instant the light went out of the Girl's eyes,
and her face was as serious as his own when she re-
plied:
“Well, I guess I ain't particularly crazy to have
you go neither.”
The unmistakable note of regret in the Girl's voice
flattered as well as encouraged him to go further and
ask:
“Will you think of me some time?"
The Girl laughed.
“What's the good o' my thinkin' o' you? I seen
you talkin' with them gran' Monterey ladies an' I
guess you won't be thinkin' often o' me. Like 's
not by to-morrow you'll ’ave clean forgot me," she
said with forced carelessness.
“I shall never forget you," declared the young
man with the intense fervour that comes so easily to
the men of his race.
At that a half-mistrustful, half-puzzled look
crossed the Girl's face. Was this handsome stranger
finding her amusing? There was almost a resentful
glitter in her eyes when she cried out:
“I 'mos' think you're makin' fun o' me!”
“No, I mean every word that I say," he hastened


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 13
em
as
to assure her, looking straight into her eyes where
he could scarcely have failed to read something
which the Girl had not the subtlety to conceal.
“Oh, I guess I made you say that!" she returned,
making a child-like effort to appear to disbelieve
him.
The stranger could not suppress a smile; but the
next moment he was serious, and asked:
“And am I never going to see you again? Won't
you tell me where I can find you?”
Once more the Girl was conscious of a feeling of
embarrassment. Not that she was at all ashamed
of being “The Girl of The Polka Saloon,” for that
never entered her mind; but she suddenly realised
that it was one thing to converse pleasantly with a
young man on the highway and another to let him
come to her home on Cloudy Mountain. Only too
well could she imagine the cool reception, if it
stopped at that, that the boys of the camp there
would accord to this stylish stranger. As a conse-
quence, she was torn by conflicting emotions: an
overwhelming desire to see him again, and a dread
of what might happen to him should he descend
upon Cloudy Mountain with all his fine airs and
graces.
“I guess I'm queer —"she began uncertainly
and then stopped in sudden surprise. Too long had
she delayed her answer. Already the stage had left
CON


14 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
him some distance behind. Unperceived by her a
shade of annoyance had passed over the Californi-
an's face at her seeming reluctance to tell him where
she lived. The quick of his Spanish pride was
touched; and with a wave of his sombrero he had
pulled his horse down on his haunches. Of no avail
now was her resolution to let him know the where-
abouts of the camp at any cost, for already his
“Adios, Señorita," was sounding faintly in her ears.
With a little cry of vexation, scarcely audible, the
young woman flung herself back on the seat. She
was only a girl with all a girl's ways, and like most
of her sex, however practical her life thus far, she
was not without dreams of a romance. This meet-
ing with the handsome caballero was the nearest she
had come to having one. True, there was scarcely
a man at Cloudy but what had tried at one time or
another to go beyond the stage of good comrade-
ship; but none of them had approached the idealistic
vision of the hero that was all the time lying dormant
in her mind. Of course, being a girl, and almost a
queen in her own little sphere, she accepted their
rough homage in a manner that was befitting to such
an exalted personage, and gave nothing in return.
But now something was stirring within her of which
she knew nothing; a feeling was creeping over her
that she could not analyse; she was conscious only
of the fact that with the departure of this attractive
S


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 15.
stranger, who had taken no pains to conceal his ad-
miration for her, her journey had been robbed of all
its joy.
A hundred yards further on, therefore, she could
not resist the temptation to put her head out of the
stage and look back at the place where she had last
seen him.
He was still sitting quietly on his horse at the
place where they had parted so unceremoniously, his
face turned in her direction - horse and rider sil-
houetted against the western sky which showed a
crimson hue below a greenish blue that was sapphire
further from the horizon.


II
Not until a turn of the road hid the stage from
sight did the stranger fix his gaze elsewhere. Even
then it was not easy for him, and there had been a
moment when he was ready to throw everything to
the winds and follow it. But when on the point of
doing so there suddenly flashed through his mind the
thought of the summons that he had received. And
so, not unlike one who had come to the conclusion
that it was indeed a farewell, he waved his hand re-
signedly in the direction that the stage had taken and,
calling to his vaquero, he gave his horse a thrust of
the long rowel of his spur and galloped off towards
the foothills of the Sierras.
For some miles the riders travelled a road which
wound through beautiful green fields; but master and
man were wholly indifferent, seeing neither the wild
flowers lining each side of the road nor the sycamores
and live oaks which were shining overhead from the
recent rains. In the case of the young man every
foot of the way to his father's rancho was familiar.
All hours of the day and night he had made the trip
to the highway, for with the exception of the few
years that had been given to his education in foreign
lands, his whole life had been passed on the rancho.
Scarcely less acquainted with the road than his young
16


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
:
17
IS
e
1
master was the vaquero, so neither gave a glance at
the country through which they were passing, but.
side by side took the miles in silence.
An hour passed with the young man still wrapt in
thought. The truth was, though he was scarcely
ready to admit it, he had been hard hit. In more
ways than one the Girl had made a deep impression
on him. Not only had her appearance awakened his
interest to the point of enthusiasm, but there was
something irresistibly attractive to him in her lack of
affectation and audacious frankness. Over and over
again he thought of her happy face, her straightfor-
ward way of looking at things and, last but not least,
her evident pleasure in meeting him. And when he
reflected on the hopelessness of their ever meeting
again, a feeling of depression seized him. But his
nature — always a buoyant one — did not permit
him to remain downcast very long.
By this time they were nearing the foothills. A
little while longer and the road that they were trav-
elling became nothing more than a bridle path. In-
deed, so dense did the chaparral presently become
that it would have been utterly impossible for one
unacquainted with the way to keep on it. Animal
life was to be seen everywhere. At the approach of
the riders innumerable rabbits scurried away; quail
whirred from bush to bush; and, occasionally, a deer
broke from the thickets.
ver


18 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
At the end of another hour of hard riding they
were forced to slacken their pace. In front of them
the ground could be seen, in the light of a fast disap-
pearing moon, to be gradually rising. Another mile
or two and vertical walls of rock rose on each side
of them; while great ravines, holding mountain tor-
rents, necessitated their making a short detour for
the purpose of finding a place where the stream could
ibe safely forded. Even then it was not an easy task
on account of the boulder-enclosing whirlpools whose
waters were whipped into foam by the wind that
swept through the forest.
At a point of the road where there was a break
in the chaparral, a voice suddenly cried out in
Spanish:
“Who comes ? "
“Follow us !" was the quick answer without draw-
ing rein; and, instantly, on recognition of the young
master's voice, a mounted sentinel spurred his horse
out from behind an overhanging rock and closed in
behind them. And as they were challenged thus sev-
eral times, it happened that presently there was quite
a little band of men pushing ahead in the darkness
that had fallen.
And so another hour passed. Then, suddenly,
there sprung into view the dark outlines of a low
structure which proved to be a corral, and finally
they made their way through a gate and came upon


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST. 19
a long adobe house, situated in a large clearing and
having a kind of courtyard in front of it.
In the centre of this courtyard was what evidently
had once been a fountain, though it had long since
dried up. Around it squatted a group of vaqueros,
all smoking cigarettes and some of them lazily twist-
ing lariats out of horsehair. Close at hand a dozen
or more wiry little mustangs stood saddled and bri-
dled and ready for any emergency. In colour, one
or two were of a peculiar cream and had silver white
manes, but the rest were greys and chestnuts. It was
evident that they had great speed and bottom. All
in all, what with the fierce and savage faces of the
men scattered about the courtyard, the remoteness
of the adobe, and the care taken to guard against sur-
prise, old Bartolini's hacienda was an establishment
not unlike that of the feudal barons or a nest of ban-
ditti according to the point of view.
At the sound of the fast galloping horses, every
man on the ground sprang to his feet and ran to his
horse. For a second only they stood still and list-
ened intently; then, satisfied that all was well and
that the persons approaching belonged to the rancho,
they returned to their former position by the foun-
tain — all save an Indian servant, who caught the
bridle thrown to him by the young man as he swung
himself out of the saddle. And while this one led
his horse noiselessly away, another of the same race


20 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
preceded him along a corridor until he came to the
Maestro's room.
Old Ramerrez Bartolini, or Ramerrez, as he was
known to his followers, was dying. His hair, pure
white and curly, was still as luxuriant as when he was
a young man. Beneath the curls was a patrician,
Spanish face, straight nose and brilliant, piercing,
black eyes. His gigantic frame lay on a heap of
stretched rawhides which raised him a few inches
from the floor. This simple couch was not necessa-
rily an indication of poverty, though his property
had dwindled to almost nothing, for in most Spanish
adobes of that time, even in some dwellings of the
very rich, there were no beds. Over him, as well as
under him, were blankets. On each side of his head,
fixed on the wall, two candles were burning, and al-
most within reach of his hand there stood a rough
altar, with crucifix and candles, where a padre was
making preparations to administer the Last Sacra-
ments.
In the low-studded room the only evidence reinain-
ing of prosperity were some fragments of rich and
costly goods that once had been piled up there. In
former times the old Spaniard had possessed these in
profusion, but little was left now. Indeed, whatever
property he had at the present time was wholly in
cattle and horses, and even these were comparatively,
IISI
few.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 21
There had been a period, not so very long ago at
that, when old Ramerrez was a power in the land.
In all matters pertaining to the province of Alta Cal-
ifornia his advice was eagerly sought, and his opin-
ion carried great weight in the councils of the Span-
iards. Later, under the Mexican regime, the re-
spect in which his name was held was scarcely less;
but with the advent of the Americanos all this was
changed. Little by little he lost his influence, and
nothing could exceed the hatred which he felt for the
race that he deemed to be responsible for his down-
fall.
It was odd, in a way, too, for he had married an
American girl, the daughter of a sea captain who had
visited the coast, and for many years he had held her
memory sacred. And, curiously enough, it was be-
cause of this enmity, if indirectly, that much of his
fortune had been wasted.
Fully resolved that England — even France or
Russia, so long as Spain was out of the question —
should be given an opportunity to extend a protecto-
rate over his beloved land, he had sent emissaries to
Europe and supplied them with moneys — far more
than he could afford — to give a series of lavish en-
tertainments at which the wonderful richness and fer-
tility of California could be exploited. At one time
it seemed as if his efforts in that direction would meet
with success. His plan had met with such favour


22 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
from the authorities in the City of Mexico that Gov-
ernor Pico had been instructed by them to issue a
grant for several million of acres. But the United
States Government was quick to perceive the hidden
meaning in the extravagances of these envoys in Lon-
don, and in the end all that was accomplished was the
hastening of the inevitable American occupation.
From that time on it is most difficult to imagine
the zeal with which he endorsed the scheme of the
native Californians for a republic of their own. He
was a leader when the latter made their attack on the
Americans in Sonoma County and were repulsed with
the loss of several killed. One of these was Ramer-
rez' only brother, who was the last, with the excep-
tion of himself and son, of a proud, old, Spanish
family. It was a terrible blow, and increased, if
possible, his hatred for the Americans. Later the
old man took part in the battle of San Pasquale and
the Mesa. In the last engagement he was badly
wounded, but even in that condition he announced his
intention of fighting on and bitterly denounced his
fellow-officers for agreeing to surrender. As a mat-
ter of fact, he escaped that ignominy. For, taking
advantage of his great knowledge of the country, he
contrived to make his way through the American
lines with his few followers, and from that time
may be said to have taken matters into his own
hand.
is.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 23
Old Ramerrez was conscious that his end was
merely a matter of hours, if not minutes. Over and
over again he had had himself propped up by his at-
tendants with the expectation that his command to
bring his son had been obeyed. No one knew better
than he how impossible it would be to resist another
spasm like that which had seized him a little while
after his son had ridden off the rancho early that
morning. Yet he relied once more on his iron con-
stitution, and absolutely refused to die until he had
laid upon his next of kin what he thoroughly believed
to be a stern duty. Deep down in heart, it is true,
he was vaguely conscious of a feeling of dread lest
his cherished revenge should meet with opposition;
but he refused to harbour the thought, believing, not
unnaturally, that, after having imposed his will upon
others for nearly seventy years, it was extremely un-
likely that his dying command should be disobeyed
by his son. And it was in the midst of these death-
bed reflections that he heard hurried footsteps and
knew that his boy had come at last.
When the latter entered the room his face wore an
agonised expression, for he feared that he had ar-
rived too late. It was a relief, therefore, to see his
father, who had lain still, husbanding his little re-
maining strength, open his eyes and make a sign,
which included the padre as well as the attendants,
that he wished to be left alone with his son.
m


24 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“ Art thou here at last, my son ? " said the old
man the moment they were alone.
“Ay, father, I came as soon as I received your
message.”
“ Come nearer, then, I have much to say to you,
and I have not long to live. Have I been a good
father to you, my lad?”
The young man knelt beside the couch and kissed
his father's hand, while he murmured an assent.
At the touch of his son's lips a chill struck the old
man's heart. It tortured him to think how little the
boy guessed of the recent history of the man he was
bending over with loving concern; how little he di-
vined of the revelation that must presently be made
to him. For a moment the dying man felt that, after
all, perhaps it were better to renounce his vengeance,
for it had been suddenly borne in upon him that the
boy might suffer acutely in the life that he intended
him to live; but in another moment he had taken him-
self to task for a weakness that he considered must
have been induced by his dying condition, and he
sternly banished the thought from his mind.
“My lad," he began, “you promise to carry out
my wishes after I am gone?".
“Ay, father, you know that I will. What do you
wish me to do?"
The old man pointed to the crucifix.
“You swear it?"


26 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
s are
with solicitude. “They are unscrupulous — many
of them, but all are not so."
“Bah!” ejaculated the old man; “ the gringos are
all alike. I hate them all, I -" The old man was
unable to finish. He gasped for breath. But de-
spite his son's entreaties to be calm, he presently cried
out:
“Do you know who you are?” And not wait-
ing for a reply he went on with: “Our name is one
of the proudest in Spain — none better! The curse
of a long line of ancestors will be upon you if you
tamely submit — not make these Americans suffer
for their seizure of this, our rightful land — our
beautiful California !”
More anxiously than ever now the son regarded
his father. His inspection left no doubt in his mind
that the end could not be far off. With great ear-
nestness he implored him to lie down; but the dying
man shook his head and continued to grow more and
more excited.
“Do you know who I am ?” he demanded.
“No— you think you do, but you don't. There
was a time when I had plenty of money. It pleased
me greatly to pay all your expenses — to see that
you received the best education possible both at home
and abroad. Then the gringos came. Little by lit-
tle these cursed Americanos have taken all that I had
from me. But as they have sown so shall they reap.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 27
I have taken my revenge, and you shall take more!"
He paused to get his breath; then in a terrible voice
he cried: “Yes, I have robbed — robbed! For
the last three years, almost, your father has been a
bandit !"
The son sprang to his feet.
“A bandit? You, father, a Ramerrez, a ban-
dit?”
“Ay, a bandit, an outlaw, as you also will be when
I am no more, and rob, rob, rob, these Americanos.
It is my command and—you — have — sworn ..."
The son's eyes were rivetted upon his father's face
as the old man fell back, completely exhausted, upon
his couch of rawhides. With a strange conflict of
emotions, the young man remained standing in si-
lence for a few brief seconds that seemed like hours,
while the pallor of death crept over the face before
him, leaving no doubt that, in the solemnity of the
moment his father had spoken nothing but the literal
truth. It was a hideous avowal to hear from the
dying lips of one whom from earliest childhood he
had been taught to revere as the pattern of Spanish
honour and nobility. And yet the thought now up-
permost in young Ramerrez's mind was that oddly
enough he had not been taken by surprise. Never
by a single word had any one of his father's follow-
ers given him a hint of the truth. So absolute, so
feudal was the old man's mastery over his men that
11


28 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
not a whisper of his occupation had ever reached his
son's ears. Nevertheless, he now told himself that
in some curious, instinctive way, he had known,-
or rather, had refused to know, putting off the hour
of open avowal, shutting his eyes to the accumulating
facts that day by day had silently spoken of lawless-
ness and peril. Three years, his father had just said;
well, that explained how it was that no suspicions had
ever awakened until after he had completed his ed-
ucation and returned home from his travels. But
since then a child must have noted that something
was wrong: the grim, sinister faces of the men, con-
stantly on guard, as though the old hacienda were in
a state of siege; the altered disposition of his father,
always given to gloomy moods, but lately doubly si-
lent and saturnine, full of strange savagery and
smouldering fire. Yes, somewhere in the back of
his mind he had known the whole, shameful truth;
had known the purpose of those silent, stealthy ex-
cursions, and equally silent returns, and more than
once the broken heads and bandaged arms that co-
incided so oddly with some new tale of a daring hold-
up that he was sure to hear of, the next time that he
chanced to ride into Monterey. For three years,
young Ramerrez had known that sooner or later he
would be facing such a moment as this, called upon
to make the choice that should make or mar him for
life. And now, for the first time he realised why
W


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 29
he had never voiced his suspicions, never questioned,
never hastened the time of decision, - it was because
even now he did not know which way he wished to
decide! He knew only that he was torn and racked
by terrible emotions, that on one side was a mighty
impulse to disregard the oath he had blindly taken
and refuse to do his father's bidding; and on the
other, some new and unguessed craving for excite-
ment and danger, some inherited lawlessness in his
blood, something akin to the intoxication of the
arena, when the thunder of the bull's hoofs rang in
his ears. And so, when the old man's lips opened
once more, and shaped, almost inaudibly, the solemn
words:
“You have sworn,” the scales were turned and
the son bowed his head in silence.
A moment later and the room was filled with men
who fell on their knees. On every face, save one,
there was an expression of overwhelming grief and
despair; but on that one, ashen grey as it was with
the agony of approaching death, there was a look of
contentment as he made a sign to the padre that he
was now ready for him to administer the last rites of
his church.


III
The Polka Saloon!
How the name stirs the blood and rouses the im-
agination!
No need to be a Forty-Niner to picture it all as if
there that night: the great high and square room
lighted by candles and the warm, yellow light of
kerosene lamps; the fireplace with its huge logs
blazing and roaring; the faro tables with the little
rings of miners around them; and the long, pine bar
behind which a typical barkeeper of the period was
busily engaged in passing the bottle to the men
clamorous for whisky in which to drink the health
of the Girl.
And the spirit of the place! When and where
was there ever such a fine fellowship — transform-
ing as it unquestionably did an ordinary saloon into
a veritable haven of good cheer for miners weary
after a long and often discouraging day in the
gulches?
In a word, the Polka was a marvellous tribute to its
girl-proprietor's sense of domesticity. Nothing
that could insure the comfort for her patrons was
omitted. Nothing, it would seem, could occur that
would disturb the harmonious aspect of the scene.
But alas! the night was yet young.
30


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 31
Now the moment for which not a few of that
good-humoured and musically-inclined company were
waiting arrived. Clear above the babel of voices
sounded a chord, and the poor old concertina player
began singing in a voice that was as wheezy as his
instrument:
“ Camp town ladies sing this song
Dooda! Dooda!
Camp town race track five miles long
Dooda! Dooda! Day!”
Throughout the solo nothing more nerve-racking
or explosive than an occasional hilarious whoop
punctuated the melody. For once, at any rate, it
seemed likely to go the distance; but no sooner did
the chorus, which had been taken up, to a man, by
the motley crowd and was rip-roaring along at a
great rate, reach the second line than there sounded
the reports of a fusillade of gun-shots from the di-
rection of the street. The effect was magical: every
voice trailed off into uncertainty and then ceased.
Instantly the atmosphere became charged with
tension; a hush fell upon the room, the joyous light
of battle in every eye, if nothing else, attesting the
approach of the foe; while all present, after listen-
ing contemptuously to a series of wild and unearthly
yells which announced an immediate arrival, sprang


32 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
to their feet and concentrated their glances on the
entrance of the saloon through which there presently
burst a party of lively boys from The Ridge.
A psychological moment followed, during which
the occupants of The Polka Saloon glared fiercely at
the newcomers, who, needless to say, returned their
hostile stares. The chances of war, judging from
past performances, far outnumbered those of peace.
But as often happens in affairs of this kind when
neither side is unprepared, the desire for gun-play
gave way to mirthless laughter, and, presently, the
hilarious crowd from the rival camp, turning
abruptly on their heels, betook themselves en masse
into the dance-hall.
For the briefest of periods, there was a look of
keen disappointment on the faces of the Cloudy
Mountain boys as they gazed upon the receding
figures of their sworn enemies; but almost in as little
time as it takes to tell it there was a tumultuous lin-
ing up at the bar, the flat surface of which soon
resounded with the heavy blows dealt it by the fists
of the men desirous of accentuating the rhythm when
roaring out:
“ Gwine to run all night,
Gwine to run all day,
Bet my money on a bob-tail nag,
Somebody bet on the bay!”


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 33
Among those standing at the bar, and looking out
of bleared eyes at a flashy lithograph tacked upon
the wall which pictured a Spanish woman in short
skirts and advertised “Espaniola Cigaroos,” were
two miners: one with curly hair and a pink-and-
white complexion; the other, tall, loose-limbed and
good-natured looking. They were known respect-
ively as Handsome Charlie and Happy Halliday,
and had been arguing in a maudlin fashion over the
relative merits of Spanish and American beauties.
The moment the song was concluded they banged
their glasses significantly on the bar; but since it was
an unbroken rule of the house that at the close of
the musician's performance he should be rewarded
by a drink, which was always passed up to him, they
needs must wait. The little barkeeper paid no at-
tention to their demands until he had satisfied the
thirst of the old concertina player who, presently,
could be seen drawing aside the bear-pelt curtain and
passing through the small, square opening of the
partition which separated the Polka Saloon from its
dance-hall.
“Not goin', old Dooda Day, are you?” The
question, almost a bellow, which, needless to say,
was unanswered, came from Sonora Slim who, with
his great pal Trinidad Joe, was playing faro at a
table on one side of the room. Apparently, both
were losing steadily to the dealer whose chair, placed


34 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
nora now
up against the pine-boarded wall, was slightly raised
above the floor. This last individual was as fat
and unctuous looking as his confederate, the Look-
out, was thin and sneaky; moreover, he bore the
sobriquet of The Sidney Duck and, obviously, was
from Australia.
“Say, what did the last eight do?” Sonora now
asked, turning to the case-keeper.
“Lose."
“Well, let the tail go with the hide,” returned
Sonora, resignedly.
“And the ace — how many times did it win?"
inquired Trinidad.
"Four times," was the case-keeper's answer.
All this time a full-blooded Indian with long,
blue-black hair, very thick and oily, had been watch-
ing the game with excited eyes. His dress was part
Indian and part American, and he wore all kinds of
imitation jewelry including a huge scarf-pin which
flashed from his vivid red tie. Furthermore, he pos-
sessed a watch, - a large, brassy-looking article, —
which he brought out on every possible occasion.
When not engaged in helping himself to the dregs
that remained in the glasses carelessly left about the
room, he was generally to be found squatted down
on the floor and playing a solitaire of his own de-
vising. But now he reached over Sonora's shoul-
wa
answer.
vi


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 35
der and put some coins on the table in front of the
dealer.
“Give Billy Jackrabbit fer two dolla' Mexican
chip,” he demanded in a guttural voice.
The Sidney Duck did as requested. While he
was shuffling the cards for a new deal, the players
beat time with their feet to the music that floated in
from the dance-hall. The tune seemed to have an
unusually exhilarating effect on Happy Halliday, for
letting out a series of whoops he staggered off to-
wards the adjoining room with the evident intention
of getting his fill of the music, not forgetting to yell
back just before he disappeared:
“ Root hog or die, boys !”.
Happy's boisterous exit caused a peculiar expres-
sion to appear immediately on Handsome's face,
which might be interpreted as one of envy at his
friend's exuberant condition; at all events, he pro-
ceeded forthwith to order several drinks, gulping
them down in rapid succession.
Meanwhile, at the faro table, the luck was going
decidedly against the boys. In fact, so much so,
that there was a dangerous note in Sonora's voice
when, presently, he blurted out:
“See here, gambolier Sid, you're too lucky!”.
“You bet!" approved Trinidad, and then added:
“More chips, Australier!”


36
GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
ence was I
But Trinidad's comment, as well as his request,
only brought forth the oily smile that The Sidney
Duck always smiled when any reference was made
to his game. It was his policy to fawn upon all and
never permit himself to think that an insult was in-
tended. So he gathered in Trinidad's money and
gave him chips in return. For some seconds the men
played on without anything disturbing the game ex-
cept the loud voice of the caller of the wheel-of-
fortune in the dance-hall. But the boys were to hear
something more from there besides, “Round goes
the wheell” For, all at once there came to their
ears the sounds of an altercation in which it was not
difficult to recognise the penetrating voice of Happy
Halliday.
“Now, git, you loafer!” he was saying in tones
that left no doubt in the minds of his friends that
Happy was hot under the collar over something.
A shot followed.
“Missed, by the Lord Harry!” ejaculated
Happy, deeply humiliated at his failure to increase
the mortuary record of the camp.
The incident, however, passed unnoticed by the
faro players; not a man within sound of the shot, for
that matter, inquired what the trouble was about;
and even Nick, picking up his tray filled with glasses
and a bottle, walked straightway into the dance-hall


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 37
looking as if the matter were not worth a moment's
thought.
At Nick's going the Indian's face brightened; it
gave him the opportunity for which he had been
waiting. Nobly he maintained his reputation as a
thief by quietly going behind the bar and lifting
from a box four cigars which he stowed away in his
pockets. But even that, apparently did not satisfy
him, for when he espied the butt of a cigar, Aung
into the sawdust on the floor by a man who had just
come in, he picked it up before squatting down again
to resume his card playing.
The newcomer, a man of, say, forty years, came
slowly into the room without a word of salutation
to anyone. In common with his fellow-miners, he
wore a flannel shirt and boots. The latter gave
every evidence of age as did his clothes which, never-
theless, were neat. His face wore a mild, gentle
look and would have said that he was companionable
enough; yet it was impossible not to see that he was
not willingly seeking the cheer of the saloon but came
there solely because he had no other place to go.
In a word, he had every appearance of a man down
on his luck.
Men were continually coming in and going out,
but no one paid the slightest attention to him, even
though a succession of audible sighs escaped his lips.


38 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
.
At length he went over to the counter and took a
sheet or two of the paper, which was kept there
for the few who desired to write home, – a quill-
pen and ink; and picking up a small wooden box he
seated himself upon it before a desk — which had
been built from a rude packing-case — and began
wearily and laboriously to write.
“The lone star now rises!”
It was the stentorian voice of the caller of the
wheel-of-fortune. One would have thought that the
sound would have had the effect of a thunder-clap
upon the figure at the desk; but he gave no sign what-
ever of having heard it; nor did he see the suspicious
glance which Nick, entering at that moment, shot at
Billy Jackrabbit who was stealing noiselessly towards
the dance-hall where the whoops were becoming so
frequent and evincing such exuberance of spirits that
the ubiquitous, if generally unconcerned, Nick felt it
incumbent to give an explanation of them.
“Boys from The Ridge cuttin' up a bit,” he ten-
dered apologetically, and took up a position at the
end of the bar where he could command a view of
both rooms.
As a partial acknowledgment that he had heard
Nick's communication, Sonora turned round slightly
in his seat at the faro table and shot a glance towards
the dance-hall. Contempt showed on his rugged
W
mm


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 39
features when he turned round again and addressed
the stocky, little man sitting at his elbow.
“Well, I don't dance with men for partners !
When I shassay, Trin, I want a feminine piece of
flesh an' blood ”— he sneered, and then went on to
amplify —“with garters on."
“You bet!" agreed his faithful, if laconic pal, on
feeling the other's playful dig in his ribs.
The subject of men dancing together was a never-
ceasing topic of conversation between these two
cronies. But whatever the attitude of others Sonora
knew that Trinidad would never fail him when it
came to nice discriminations of this sort. His refer-
ence to an article of feminine apparel, however, was
responsible for his recalling the fact that he had not
as yet received his daily assurance from the presid-
ing genius of the bar that he stood well in the estima-
tion of the only lady in the camp. Therefore, leav-
ing the table, he went over to Nick and whispered:
“Has the Girl said anythin' about me to-day,
Nick?”
Now the rôle of confidential adviser to the boys
was not a new one to the barkeeper, nor was any-
one in the camp more familiar than he with their
good qualities as well as their failings. Every
morning before going to work in the placers it was
their custom to stop in at The Polka for their first
was
Dr was


40 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
was
man
drink — which was, generally,“ on the house." In-
variably, Nick received them in his shirt-sleeves,–
for that matter he was the proud possessor of the
sole “ biled shirt " in the camp,— and what with his
red flannel undershirt that extended far below the
line of his cuffs, his brilliantly-coloured waistcoat
and tie, and his hair combed down very low in a cow-
lick over his forehead, he was indeed an odd little
figure of a man as he listened patiently to the boys'
grievances and doled out sympathy to them. On
the other hand, absolutely devoted to the fair pro-
prietress of the saloon,—though solely in the char-
acter of a good comrade, — he never ceased trying
to advance her interests; and since one and all of her
customers believed themselves to be in love with her,
one of his most successful methods was to flatter
each one in turn into thinking that he had made a
tremendous impression upon her. It was not a diffi-
cult thing to do inasmuch as long custom and repeti-
tion had made him an adept at highly-coloured
lying.
“Well, you got the first chance," asseverated
Nick, dropping his voice to a whisper.
Sonora grinned from ear to ear; he expanded his
broad chest and held his head proudly; and waving
his hand in lordly fashion he sung out:
“ Cigars for all hands and drinks, too, Nick!"
The genial prevaricator could scarcely restrain


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 41
himself from laughing outright as he watched the
other return to his place at the faro table; and when,
in due course, he served the concoctions and passed
around the high-priced cigars, there was a smile on
his face which said as plainly as if spoken that So-
nora was not the only person present that had reason
to be pleased with himself.
Then occurred one of those terpsichorean per-
formances which never failed to shock old Sonora's
sense of the fitness of things. For the next moment
two Ridge boys, dancing together, waltzed through
the opening between the two rooms and, letting out
ear-piercing whoops with every rotation, whirled
round and round the room until they brought up
against the bar where they, breathlessly, called for
drinks.
An angry lull fell upon the room; the card game
stopped. However, before anyone seated there
could give vent to his resentment at this boisterous
intrusion of the men from the rival camp, the smooth,
oily and inviting voice of the unprincipled Sidney
Duck, scenting easy prey because of their inebriated
condition, called out in its cockney accent:
“ 'Ello, boys — 'ow's things at The Ridge ?"
“Wipes this camp off the earth!" returned a
voice that was provocative in the extreme - a reply
that instantly brought every man at the faro table to
his feet. For a time, at least, it seemed as if the


42 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
boys from The Ridge would get the trouble they
were looking for.
A murmur of angry amazement arose, while
Sonora, his watery blue eyes glinting, followed up
his explosive, “What!" with a suggestive movement
towards his hip. But quick as he was Nick was still
quicker and had The Ridge boy, as well as Sonora,
covered before their hands had even reached their
guns.
“You . . .!" the little barkeeper's sentence
was bristled out and contained along with the exple-
tives some comparatively mild words which gave the
would-be combatants to understand that any such
foolishness would not be tolerated in The Polka
unless he himself “ 'lowed it to be ne'ssary.”
Not unnaturally The Ridge boys failed to see any-
thing offensive in language that had a gun behind it;
and realising the futility of any further attempt to
get away with a successful disturbance they wisely
yielded to superior quickness at the draw. With a
whoop of resignation they rushed back to the dance-
hall where the voice of the caller was exhorting the
gents — whose partners were mostly big, husky,
hairy-faced men clumsily enacting parts generally
assigned to members of the gentler sex — to
swing:
“With the right-hand gent, first partner swing
with the left-hand gent, first partner swing with the


44 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST,
ISICI
linen duster, his face half-blacked, and banjo in hand,
acknowledged the words of welcome with a broad
grin as he stood bowing in the centre of the room.
That Jake Wallace was a typical camp minstrel
from the top of his dusty stove-pipe hat to the sole
of his flapping negro shoes, one could see with half
an eye as he made his way to a small platform - a
musician's stand — at one end of the bar; nor could
there be any question about his being a prudent one,
for the musician did not seat himself until he had
carefully examined the sheet-iron shield inside the
railing, which was attached in such a way that it
could be sprung up by working a spring in the floor
and render him fairly safe from a chance shot dur-
ing a fracas.
“My first selection, friends, will be "The Lit-
tle – announced the Minstrel with a smile as he
begun to tune his instrument.
“Aw, give us 'Old Dog Tray,'” cut in Sonora,
impatiently from his seat at the card table.
Jake bowed his ready acquiescence to the request
and kept right on tuning up.
“I say, Nick, have you saw the Girl?” asked
Trinidad in a low voice, taking advantage of the
interval to stroll over to the bar.
Mysteriously, Nick's eyes wandered about the
room to see if anyone was listening; at length, with
marvellous insincerity, he said:
Scene


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 45.
“You've got the first chance, Trin; I gave 'er
your message."
Trinidad Joe fairly beamed upon him.
“Whisky for everybody, Nick!” he ordered
bumptuously; and as before the little barkeeper's
face wore an expression of pleasure not a whit less
than that of the man whom, presently, he followed
to the faro table with a bottle and four glasses.
As soon as Trinidad had seated himself the Min-
strel struck a chord and announced impressively:
"Old Dog Tray,' gents,' or Echoes from Home'!"
He cleared his throat, and the next instant in quaver-
ing tones he warbled:
“ How of-ten do I pic-ture
The old folks down at home,
And of-ten wonder if they think of me,
Would an-gel mother know me,
If back there I did roam,
Would old dog Tray re-member me."
At the first few words of his song the man at the
desk who, up to this time, had been wholly oblivious
to what was taking place, arose from his seat, put the
ink-bottle back on the bar, opened a cigar-box there
and took from it a stamp, which he put on his letter.
This he carried to a mail-box attached to the door;
then, returning, he threw himself dejectedly down in


46 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
a chair and put his head in his hands, where it re-
mained throughout the song.
At the conclusion of his solo, the Minstrel's emo-
tions were seemingly deeply stirred by his own melo-
dious voice and he gasped audibly; whereupon, Nick
came to his relief with a stiff drink which, apparently,
went to the right spot, for presently the singer's voice
rang out vigorously: “Now, boys!”
No second invitation was needed, and the chorus
was taken up by all, the singers beating time with
their feet and chips.
ALL.
“Oh, mother, an-gel mother, are you waitin'
there beside the lit-tle cottage on the
lea-"
JAKE.
“On the lea—"
ALL.
“How often would she bless me in all them
days so fair —
Would old dog Tray re-member me —”
SONORA.
“Re-member me.”
All the while the miners had been singing, the sad
and morose-looking individual had been steadily
growing more and more disconsolate; and when


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 47.
Sonora rumbled out the last deep note in his big,
bass voice, he heaved a great sob and broke down
completely.
In surprised consternation everyone turned in the
direction from whence had come the sound. But it
was Sonora who, affected both by the pathos of the
song and the sight of the pathetic figure before them,
quietly went over and laid a hand upon the other's
arm.
“Why, Larkins — Jim — what's the trouble —
what's the matter?” he asked, a thousand thoughts
fluttering within his breast. “I wouldn't feel so
bad.”
With a desperate effort Larkins, his face twitch-
ing perceptibly, the lines about his eyes deepening,
struggled to control himself. At last, after taking in
the astonished faces about him, he plunged into his
tale of woe.
“Say, boys, I'm homesick — I'm broke — and
what's more, I don't care who knows it.” He paused,
his fingers opening and closing spasmodically, and
for a moment it seemed as if he could not continue
- a moment of silence in which the Minstrel began
to pick gently on his banjo the air of Old Dog Tray.
“I want to go home!” suddenly burst from the
unfortunate man's lips. “I'm tired o' drillin' rocks;
I want to be in the fields again; I want to see the
grain growin'; I want the dirt in the furrows at home;


48 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
I want old Pensylvanny; I want my folks; I'm done,
boys, I'm done, I'm done. . . .!" And with
these words he buried his face in his hands.
“Oh, mother, an-gel mother, are you waitin' —”
sang the Minstrel, dolefully.
Men looked at one another and were distressingly,
affected; The Polka had never witnessed a more pain-
ful episode. Throwing a coin at the Minstrel,
Sonora stopped him with an impatient gesture; the
latter nodded understandingly at the same time that
Nick, apparently indifferent to Larkin's collapse, be-
gan to dance a jig behind the bar. A look of scowl-
ing reproach instantly appeared on Sonora's face.
It was uncalled-for since, far from being heartless
and indifferent to the man's misfortunes, the little
barkeeper had taken this means to distract the
miner's attention from the pitiful sight.
“Boys, Jim Larkins 'lows he's goin' back East,"
announced Sonora. “ Chip in every mother's son
o you."
Immediately every man at the faro table demanded
cash from The Sidney Duck; a moment later they,
as well as the men who were not playing cards, threw
their money into the hat which Sonora passed around.
It was indeed a well-filled hat that Sonora held out
to the weeping man.
“Here you are, Jim,” he said simply.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 49
tu
The sudden transition from poverty to compara-
tive affluence was too much for Larkins! Looking
through tear-dimmed eyes at Sonora he struggled
for words with which to express his gratitude, but
they refused to come; and at last with a sob he
turned away. At the door, however, he stopped
and choked out: “ Thank you, boys, thank you."
The next moment he was gone.
At once a wave of relief swept over the room.
Indeed, the incident was forgotten before the un-
fortunate man had gone ten paces from The Polka,
for then it was that Trinidad suddenly rose in his
seat, lunged across the table for The Sidney Duck's
card-box, and cried out angrily:
“You're cheatin'l That ain't a square deal!
You're a cheat!"
In a moment the place was in an uproar. Every
man at the table sprung to his feet; chairs were kicked
over; chips flew in every direction; guns came from
every belt; and so occupied were the men in watch-
ing The Sidney Duck that no one perceived the Look-
out sneak out through the door save Nick, who was
returning from the dance-hall with a tray of empty
glasses. But whether or not he was aware that the
Australian's confederate was bent upon running
away he made no attempt to stop him, for in com-
mon with every man present, including Sonora and
Trinidad, who had seized the gambler and brought


150
GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
him out in front of his card-table, Nick's eyes were
fastened upon another man whom none had seen
enter, but whose remarkable personality, now as
often, made itself felt even though he spoke not a
word.
“Lift his hand!” cried Sonora, looking as if for
sanction at the newcomer, who stood in the centre of
the room, calmly smoking a huge cigar.
Forcing up The Sidney Duck's arms, Trinidad
threw upon the table a deck of cards which he had
found concealed about the other's person, bursting
out with:
“There! Look at that, the infernal, good-for-
nothin' cheat!”
“String 'im up!” suggested Sonora, and as be-
fore he shot a questioning look at the man, who was
regarding the scene with bored interest.
“You bet!” shouted Trinidad, pulling at the
Australian's arm.
“For 'eaven's sake, don't, don't, don't!" wailed
The Sidney Duck, terror-stricken.
The Sheriff of Manzaneta County, for such was
the newcomer's office, raised his steely grey eyes in-
quisitorially to Nick's who, with a hostile stare at
the Australian, emitted:
“ Chicken lifter!”
“String 'im! String 'im!” insisted Trinidad, at
the same time dragging the culprit towards the door.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 51
“No, boys, no!” cried the unfortunate wretch,
struggling uselessly to break away from his captors.
At this stage the Sheriff of Manzaneta County
took a hand in the proceedings, and drawled out:
“Well, gentlemen -" He stopped short and
seemingly became reflective.
Instantly, as was their wont whenever the Sheriff
spoke, all eyes fixed themselves upon him. Indeed,
it needed but a second glance at this cool, deliberate
individual to see how great was his influence
upon them. He was tall, — fully six feet one,-
thin, and angular; his hair and moustache were
black enough to bring out strongly the unhealthy
pallor of his face; his eyes were steel grey and
were heavily fringed and arched; his nose straight
and his mouth hard, determined, but just, the lips of
which were thin and drawn tightly over brilliantly-
white teeth; and his soft, pale hands were almost
feminine looking except for the unusual length of his
fingers. On his head was a black beaver hat with a
straight brim; a black broadcloth suit — cut after
the “ 'Frisco " fashion of the day — gave every evi-
dence that its owner paid not a little attention to it.
From the bosom of his white, puffed shirt an enor-
mous diamond, held in place by side gold chains,
flashed forth; while glittering on his fingers was
another stone almost as large. Below his trousers
could plainly be seen the highly-polished boots; the
O-


52 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
heels and instep being higher than those generally in
use. In a word, it was impossible not to get the im-
pression that he was scrupulously immaculate and
careful about his attire. And his voice — the voice
that tells character as nothing else does — was smooth
and drawling, though fearlessness and sincerity could
easily be detected in it. Such was Mr. Jack Rance,
Gambler and Sheriff of Manzaneta County.
“This is a case for you, Jack Rance," suddenly
spoke up Sonora.
“Yes," chimed in Trinidad; and then as he gave
the Australian a rough shake, he added: “Here's
the Sheriff to take charge of you."
But Mr. Jack Rance, the Sheriff of Manzaneta
County, was never known to move otherwise than
slowly, deliberately. Taking from his pocket a
smoothly-creased handkerchief he proceeded to dust
languidly first one and then the other of his boots;
and not until he had succeeded in flicking the last
grain of dust from them did he take up the business in
hand.
“Gentlemen, what's wrong with the cyards ?” he
now began in his peculiar drawling voice.
Sonora pointed to the faro table.
“ The Sidney Duck's cheated!” he said — an ac-
cusation which was responsible for a renewal of out-
cries and caused a number of men to pounce upon
the faro dealer.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 53
Trinidad ran a significant hand around his collar.
“String 'im! Come on, you —!” once more he
cried. But on seeing the Sheriff raise a restraining
hand he desisted from pulling the Australian along.
“Wait a minute !" commanded the Sheriff.
The miners with the prisoner in their midst stood
stock-still. Now the Sheriff's features lost some of
their usual inscrutability and for a moment became
hard and stern. Slowly he let his eyes wander com-
prehensively about the saloon: first, they travelled to
a small balcony — reached by a ladder drawn down
or up at will — decorated with red calico curtains,
garlands of cedar and bittersweet, while the railing
was ornamented with a wildcat's skin and a stuffed
fawn's head; from the ceiling with its strings of red
peppers, onions and apples they fell on a stuffed griz-
zly bear, which stood at the entrance to the dance-
hall, with a little green parasol in its paw and an
old silk hat upon its head; from it they shifted to the
gaudy bar with its paraphernalia of fancy glasses,
show-cases of coloured liquors and its pair of scales
for weighing the gold dust; and from that to a keg,
the top of which could be withdrawn without en-
gendering the slightest suspicion that it represented
other than an ordinary receptacle for liquor. Two
notices tacked upon the wall also caught and held
his glance, his eyes dwelling most affectionately on
the one reading: “A Real Home For The Boys."


54 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
That there was such a thing as sentiment in the
make-up of the Sheriff of Manzaneta County few
people, perhaps, would have believed. Neverthe-
less, at the thought that this placard inspired, he dis-
missed whatever inclination he might have had to
deal leniently with the culprit, and calmly observed:
“There is no reason, gentlemen, of being in a
hurry. I've got something to say about this. I
don't forget, although I am the Sheriff of Manzan-
eta County, that I'm running four games. But it's
men like The Sidney Duck here that casts reflections
on square-minded, sporting men like myself. And
worse — far worse, gentlemen, he casts reflections
on The Polka, the establishment of the one decent
woman in Cloudy."
“You bet!" affirmed Nick, indignantly.
“Yes, a lady, d'you hear me? " stormed Sonora,
addressing the prisoner; then: “You lily-livered
skunk!”
"Oh, let's string 'im up!” urged Trinidad.
“Yes, come on, you ...!" was Hand-
some's ejaculation, contriving, at last, to get his
hands on the faro dealer.
But again the Sheriff would have none of it.
“Hold on, hold on —” he began and paused to
philosophise: “ After all, gents, what's death? A
kick and you're off;” and then went on: “ I've
thought of a worse punishment. Give him his coat."


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 55
Surprised and perplexed at this order, Handsome,
reluctantly, assisted the culprit into his coat.
“Put him over there," the Sheriff now ordered.
Whereupon, obedient to the instructions of that
personage, The Sidney Duck was roughly put down
into a chair; and while he was firmly held into it,
Rance strolled nonchalantly over to the faro table
and picked out a card from the deck there. Return-
ing, he quickly plucked a stick-pin from the prisoner's
scarf, saying, while he suited his action to his words:
“See, now I place the deuce of spades over his
heart as a warning. He can't leave the camp, and
he never plays cyards again -- see?” And while
the men, awed to silence, stood looking at one an-
other, he instructed Handsome to pass the word
through the camp.
"Ow, now, don't si that! Don't si that!” bawled
out the card sharp.
The sentence met with universal approval. Rance
waved an authoritative hand towards the door; and
the incident, a few seconds later, passed into its place
in the camp records. Albeit, in those seconds, and
while the men were engrossed in the agreeable task
of ejecting The Sidney Duck, The Polka harboured
another guest, no less unwelcome, who made his way
unobserved through the saloon to become an unob-
trusive spectator of the doings in the dance-hall.


IV
In the space of six months one can do little or much
harm. The young bandit,- for he had kept his
oath to his father,— flattered himself that he had
done much. In all the mining camps of the Sierras
the mere mention of the name of Ramerrez brought
forth execrations. Not a stage started out with its
precious golden freight without its passengers hav-
ing misgivings that they would be held up before
reaching Sacramento. Messengers armed with shot-
guns were always to be found at their post beside the
drivers; yet, despite all precautions, not a week
passed without a report that the stage out of this or
that camp, had been attacked and the passengers
forced to surrender their money and valuables. Un-
der no circumstances, however, were any of Ramer-
rez's own countrymen molested. If, by any chance,
the road agent made a mistake and stopped a party
of native Californians or Mexicans, they were at
once permitted to proceed on their way with the ban-
dit-leader's profuse apologies.
But it was altogether different with Americans.
The men of that race were compelled to surrender
their gold; although so far as he was concerned,
their women were exempt from robbery. As a mat-
ter of fact, he had few chances to show his chivalry,
hen
56


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 57
CII
since few women were living, at that time, in the
Sierras. Nevertheless, it happened in rare instances
that a stage was held up which contained one or two
of them, and they were never known to complain of
his treatment. And so far, at least, he had con-
trived to avoid any serious bloodshed. Two or
three messengers, it is true, had been slightly
wounded; but that was the most that his worst en-
emies could charge against him.
As for Ramerrez's own attitude towards the life
he was leading, it must be confessed that, the plunge
once taken, his days and nights were too full of ex-
citement and adventure to leave him time to brood.
Somewhat to his own surprise, he had inherited his
father's power of iron domination. Young as he
was, not one of his father's seasoned band of cut-
throats ever questioned his right or his ability to com-
mand. At first, no doubt, they followed him
through a rude spirit of loyalty; but after a short time
it was because they had found in him all the qualities
of a leader of men, one whose plans never miscarried.
Fully two-thirds of the present band were vassals, as
it were, in his family, while all were of Spanish or
Mexican descent. In truth, Ramerrez himself was
the only one among them who had any gringo blood
in his veins. And hence not a tale of the outlaw's
doings was complete without the narrator insisting
upon it that the leader of the band — the road agent


58
GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
himself — closely resembled an American. One
and all of his victims agreed that he spoke with an
American accent, while the few who had been able
to see his features on a certain occasion when the red
bandanna, which he wore about his face, had fallen,
never failed to maintain that he looked like an
American.
As a matter of fact, Ramerrez not only bore the
imprint of his mother's race in features and in speech,
but the more he made war upon them, the more he
realised that it was without any real feeling of hos-
tility. In spite of his early training and in spite of
his oath, he could not share his father's bitterness.
True, the gringos had wrecked the fortunes of his
house; it was due to them that his sole inheritance
was an outlaw's name and an outlaw's leadership,
And yet, despite it all, there was another fact that
he could not forget, — the fact that he himself was
one half gringo, one half the same race as that of
the unforgotten Girl whom he had met on the road
to Sacramento. Indeed, it had been impossible to
forget her, for she had stirred some depth in him,
the existence of which he had never before suspected.
He was haunted by the thought of her attractive
face, her blue eyes and merry, contagious laugh.
For the hundredth time he recalled his feelings on
that glorious day when he had intercepted her on the
great highway. And with this memory would come
was


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 59
a sudden shame of himself and occupation,- a re-
alisation of the barrier which he had deliberately
put between the present and the past. Up to the
hour when he had parted from her, and had remained
spellbound, seated on his horse at the fork of the
roads, watching the vanishing coach up to the last
minute, he was still a Spanish gentleman, still worthy
in himself, — whatever his father had done, — to of-
fer his love and his devotion to a pure and honest
girl. But now he was an outlaw, a road agent going
from one robbery to another, likely at any time to
stain his hand with the life-blood of a fellow man.
And this pretence that he was stealing in a righteous
cause, that he was avenging the wrongs that had
been done to his countrymen,- why, it was the rank-
est hypocrisy! He knew in his heart that vengeance
and race hatred had nothing whatever to do with it.
It was because he loved it like a game, a game of un-
foreseen, unguessed danger. The fever of it was
in his blood, like strong drink,- and with every
day's adventure, the thirst for it grew stronger.
Yet, however personally daring, Ramerrez was
the last person in the world to trust to chance for his
operations, more than was absolutely necessary. He
handled his men with shrewd judgment and strict
discipline. Furthermore, never was an attack made
that was not the outcome of a carefully matured plan.
A prime factor in Ramerrez' success had from the


60 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
first been the information which he was able to ob-
tain from the Mexicans, not connected with his band,
concerning the places that the miners used as tem-
porary depositories for their gold; and it was infor-
mation of this sort that led Ramerrez and his men
to choose a certain Mexican settlement in the moun-
tains as a base of operations: namely, the tempting
fact that a large amount of gold was stored nightly
in the Polka Saloon, at the neighbouring camp on
Cloudy Mountain.
And there was still another reason.
Despite the fact that his heart had been genuinely
touched by the many and unusual attractions of the
Girl, it is not intended to convey the idea that he was
austere or incapable of passion for anyone else. For
that was not so. Although, to give the bandit his
due, he had remained quite exemplary, when one con-
siders his natural charm as well as the fascination
which his adventurous life had for his country-
women. Unfortunately, however, in one of his
weak moments, he had foolishly permitted himself to
become entangled with a Mexican woman — Nina
Micheltoreña, by name — whose jealous nature now
threatened to prove a serious handicap to him. It
was a particularly awkward situation in which he
found himself placed, inasmuch as this woman had
furnished him with much valuable information. In
fact, it was she who had called his attention to the
woman-
Om


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 61
probable spoils to be had in the American camp
near by. It can readily be imagined, therefore, that
it was not without a premonition of trouble to come
that he sought the Mexican settlement with the in-
tention of paying her a hundred-fold for her val-
uable assistance in the past and then be through with
her for good and all.
The Mexican or greaser settlements had little in
them that resembled their American neighbours. In
the latter there were few women, for the long dis-
tance that the American pioneers had to travel be-
fore reaching the gold-fields of California, the hard-
ships that they knew had to be encountered, deterred
them from bringing their wives and daughters. But
with the Mexicans it was wholly different. The
number of women in their camps almost equalled
that of the men, and the former could always be
seen, whenever the weather permitted, strolling
about or sitting in the doorways chatting with their
neighbours, while children were everywhere. In
fact, everything about the Mexican settlements con
veyed the impression that they had come to stay — a
decided contrast to the transient appearance of the
camps of the Americans.
It was one evening late in the fall that Ramerrez
and his band halted just outside of this particular
Mexican settlement. And after instructing his men


62 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
where they should meet him the following day, he
sent them off to enjoy themselves for the night with
their friends. For, Ramerrez, although exercising
restraint over his band, never failed to see to it that
they had their pleasures as well as their duties — a
trait in his character that had not a little to do with
his great influence over his men. And so it hap-
pened that he made his way alone up the main street
to the hall where a dance was going on.
The scene that met his eyes on entering the long,
low room was a gay one. It was a motley crowd
gathered there in which the Mexicans, not unnatu-
rally, predominated. Here and there, however, were
native Californians, Frenchmen, Germans and a few
Americans, the latter conspicuous by the absence of
colour in their dress; for with the exception of an
occasional coatless man in a red or blue shirt, they
wore faded, old, black coats,— frequently frock-
coats, at that, which certainly contrasted unfavour-
ably, at least so far as heightening the gaiety of the
scene was concerned, with the green velvet jackets,
brilliant waistcoats with gold filigree and silver but-
tons and red sashes of the Mexicans. That there
was not a man present but what was togged out in
his best and was armed, it goes without saying, even
if the weapons of the Mexicans were in the form of
murderous knives concealed somewhere about their


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 63
persons instead of belts with guns and knives openly
displayed, as was the case with the Americans.
At the time of the outlaw's entrance into the
dance-hall the fandango was over. But presently
the fiddles, accompanied by guitars, struck up a
waltz, and almost instantly some twenty or more men
and women took the floor; those not engaged in
dancing surrounding the dancers, clapping their
hands and shouting their applause. In order to see
if the woman he sought was present, it was neces-
sary for Ramerrez to push to the very front of the
crowd of lookers-on, where he was not long in ob-
serving that nearly all the women present were of
striking appearance and danced well; likewise, he
noted, that none compared either in looks or grace
with Nina Micheltoreña who, he had to acknowl-
edge, even if his feelings for her were dead, was a
superb specimen of a woman.
Good blood ran in the veins of Nina Michelto-
reña. It is not in the province of this story to tell
how it was that a favourite in the best circles of
Monterey came to be living in a Mexican camp in
the Sierras. Suffice it to say that her fall from grace
had been rapid, though her dissolute career had in
no way diminished her beauty. Indeed, her features
were well-nigh perfect, her skin transparently clear,
if dark, and her form was suppleness itself as she


64 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
1
S
s
danced. And that she was the undisputed belle of
the evening was made apparent by the number of
men who watched her with eyes that marvelled at
her grace when dancing, and surrounded her when-
ever she stopped, each pleading with her to accept
him as a partner.
Almost every colour of the rainbow had a place
in her costume for the occasion: The bodice was of
light blue silk; the skirt orange; encircling her small
waist was a green sash; while her jet-black hair was
fastened with a crimson ribbon. Diamonds flashed
from the earrings in her ears as well as from the
rings on her fingers. All in all, it was scarcely to
be wondered at that her charms stirred to the very
depths the fierce passion of the desperate characters
about her.
That Ramerrez dreaded the interview which he
had determined to have with his confederate can
easily be understood by anyone who has ever tried
to sever his relations with an enamoured woman.
In fact the outlaw dreaded it so much that he de-
cided to postpone it as long as he could. And so,
after sauntering aimlessly about the room, and com-
ing, unexpectedly, across a woman of his acquaint-
ance, he began to converse with her, supposing, all
the time, that Nina Micheltoreña was too occupied
with the worshippers at her shrine to perceive that
he was in the dance-hall. But it was decidedly a case


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 65
move
was
of the wish being father to the thought: Not a
movement had he made since he entered that she
was not cognisant of it and, although she hated to ac-
knowledge it to herself, deep down in her heart she
was conscious that he was not as thoroughly under
the sway of her dark eyes as she would have wished.
Something had happened in the last few weeks that
had brought about a change in him, but just what it
was she was unable to determine. There were mo-
ments when she saw plainly that he was much more
occupied with his daring plans than he was with
thoughts of her. So far, it was true, there had been
no evidences on his part of any hesitation in confid-
ing his schemes to her. Of that she was positive.
But, on the other hand, she had undoubtedly lost
some of her influence over him. It did not lessen
her nervousness to realise that he had been in the hall
for some time without making any effort to see her.
Besides, the appointment had been of his own mak-
ing, inasmuch as he had sent word by one of his
band that she should meet him to-night in this place.
Furthermore, she knew that he had in mind one of
the boldest projects he had yet attempted and
needed, to insure success, every scrap of knowledge
that she possessed. In the meantime, while she
waited for him to seek her out, she resolved to show
him the extent of her power to fascinate others;
and from that moment never had she seemed more


66 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
-
-
--
attractive and alluring to her admirers, in all of
whom she appeared to excite the fiercest of passions.
In fact, one word whispered in an ear by those
voluptuous lips and marvellously sweet, musical
voice, and the recipient would have done her bidding,
even had she demanded a man's life as the price of
her favour.
It is necessary, however, to single out one man as
proving an exception to this sweeping assertion, al-
though this particular person seemed no less devoted
than the other men present. He was plainly an
American and apparently a stranger to his country-
men as well as to the Mexicans. His hair was white
and closely cropped, the eyebrows heavy and very
black, the lips nervous and thin but denoting great
determination, and the face was tanned to the colour
of old leather, sufficiently so as to be noticeable even
in a country where all faces were tanned, swarthy,
and dark. One would have thought that this big,
heavy, but extremely-active man whose clothes, not-
withstanding the wear and tear of the road, were
plainly cut on “ 'Frisco " patterns, was precisely the
person calculated to make an impression upon a
woman like Nina Micheltoreña; and, yet, oddly
enough, he was the only man in the room whose at-
tentions seemed distasteful to her. It could not be
accounted for on the ground of his nationality, for
she danced gladly with others of his race. Nor did
race.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 67
it look like caprice on her part. On the contrary,
there was an expression on her face that resembled
something like fear when she refused to be cajoled
into dancing with him. At length, finding her ada-
mant, the man left the room.
But as time went by and still Ramerrez kept aloof,
Nina Micheltoreña's excitement began to increase
immeasureably. To such a woman the outlaw's
neglect could mean but one thing — another
woman. And, finally, unable to control herself any
longer, she made her way to where the woman with
whom Ramerrez had been conversing was standing
alone.
“What has the Señor been saying to you ? " she
demanded, jealousy and ungovernable passion blaz-
ing forth from her eyes.
“Nothing of interest to you," replied the other
with a shrug of her shoulders.
“It's a lie!” burst from Nina's lips. “I heard
him making love to you! I was standing near and
heard every tone, every inflection of his voice! I
saw how he looked at you!” And so crazed was
she by jealousy that her face became distorted and
almost ugly, if such a thing were possible, and her
great eyes filled with hatred.
The other woman laughed scornfully.
“Make your man stay away from me then — if
you can," she retorted.
Wom


68 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
. At that the infuriated Nina drew a knife and
cried:
“Swear to me that you'll not see him to-night,
or "
The sentence was never finished. Quick as light-
ning Ramerrez stepped in and caught Nina's up-
raised arm. For one instant her eyes Aashed fire at
him; another, and submissive to his will, she slipped
the knife somewhere in the folds of her dress and
the attention that she had succeeded in attracting was
diverted elsewhere. Those who had rushed up ex-
pecting a tragedy returned, once more, to their
dancing.
“I have been looking for you, Nina,” he said, tak-
ing her to one side. “I want to speak with you."
Nina laughed airily, but only another woman
would have been able to detect the danger lurking in
that laugh.
“Have you just come in?" she inquired casually.
“ It is generally not difficult to find me when there
is dancing." And then with a significant smile:
“But perhaps there were so many men about me that
I was completely hidden from the view of the Señor."
Ramerrez bowed politely his belief in the truth
of her words; then he said somewhat seriously:
“I see a vacant table over in the corner where
we can talk without danger of being overheard.
Come!” He led the way, the woman following
lerrez


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 69
him, to a rough table of pine at the farther end of the
room where, immediately, a bottle and two glasses
were placed before them. When they had pledged
each other, Ramerrez went on to say, in a low voice,
that he had made the appointment in order to de-
liver to her her share for the information that led to
his successful holdup of the stage at a place known as
“ The Forks," a few miles back; and taking from his
pocket a sack of gold he placed it on the table be-
fore her.
There was a silence in which Nina made no move-
ment to pick up the gold; whereupon, Ramerrez re-
peated a little harshly:
“Your share.”
Slowly the woman rose, picking up the sack as
she did so, and with a request that he await her, she
made her way over to the bar where she handed it to
the Mexican in charge with a few words of instruc-
tion. In another moment she was again seated at
the table with him.
"Why did you send for me to meet you here?”
she now asked. “Why did you not come to my
room — surely you knew that there was danger
here?"
Carelessly, Ramerrez let his eyes wander about
the room; no one was paying the slightest attention
to them and, apparently, there being nothing to fear,
he answered:


70 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“From whom?”.
For a brief space of time the woman looked at
him as if she would ferret out his innermost
thoughts; at length, she said with a shrug of the
shoulders:
“ Few here are to be thoroughly trusted. The
woman you were with — she knows you ? "
“I never met her but once before," was his la-
conic rejoinder.
Nina eyed him suspiciously; at last she was satis-
fied that he spoke the truth, but there was still that
cold, abstracted manner of his to be explained.
However, cleverly taking her cue from him she in-
quired in business-like tones:
“And how about The Polka Saloon — the raid
on Cloudy Mountain Camp?"
A shade of annoyance crossed Ramerrez' face.
“I have decided to give that up — at least for a
time.”
Again Nina regarded him curiously; when she
spoke there was a suspicious gleam in her eyes,
though she said lightly:
"Perhaps you're right - it will not be an easy
job."
“Far from it,” quickly agreed the man. “But
the real reason is, that I have planned to go below
for a while."
The woman's eyes narrowed.


72 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
"But to-night," she hazarded, leaning far over
the table and putting her face close to his, her eyes
the while fooded with voluptuousness, "you will
come with me to my room?"
Ramerrez shook his head.
“No, Nina, all that is over."
The woman bit her lips with vexation.
“Are you made of stone? What is the matter
with you to-night? Is there anything wrong with
my beauty? Have you seen anyone handsomer than
I am?"
“No . . ."
“Then why not come? You don't hate ?"
“I don't hate you in the least, but I won't go to
your room."
“So!”
There was a world of meaning in that one word.
For a while she seemed to be reflecting; suddenly
with great earnestness she said:
"Once for all, Ramerrez, listen to me. Rather
than give you up to any other woman I will give you
up to death. Now do you still refuse me?"
“Yes. ..." answered Ramerrez not unkindly
and wholly unmoved by her threat. “We've been
good pals, Nina, but it's best for both that we should
part.”
In the silence that ensued the woman did some
hard thinking. That a man could ever tire of her


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 73
Woman
ever
Once
without some other woman coming into his life never
once entered into her mind. Something told her,
nevertheless, that the woman with whom he had
been conversing was not the woman that she sought;
and at a loss to discover the person to whom he had
transferred his affections, her mind reverted to his
avowed purpose of withdrawing from the proposed
Cloudy Mountain expedition. The more Nina re-
flected on that subject the more convinced she be-
came that, for some reason or other, Ramerrez had
been deceiving her. It was made all the more clear
to her when she recalled that when Ramerrez' mes-
senger had brought his master's message that she
was to meet him, she had asked where the band's
next rendezvous was to be, and that he, knowing full
well that his countrywoman had ever been cognizant
of his master's plans, had freely given the desired in-
formation. Like a flash it came to her now that no
such meeting-place would have been selected for any
undertaking other than a descent upon Cloudy Moun-
tain Camp. Nor was her intuition or reasoning at
fault: Ramerrez had not given up his intention of
getting the miners' gold that he knew from her to be
packed away somewhere in The Polka Saloon; but
what she did not suspect, despite his peculiar be-
haviour, was that he had taken advantage of the
proximity of the two camps to sever his relation,
business and otherwise, with her. And yet, did he


74 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
a
10 sr
but know it, she was destined to play no small part
in his life for the next few weeks !
Nina Micheltoreña had now decided upon her fu-
ture course of action: She would let him think that
his desire to break off all relations with her would
not be opposed. Ever a keen judge of men and
their ways, she was well aware that any effort to re-
claim him to-night would meet with disaster. And
so when Ramerrez, surprised at her long silence,
looked up, he was met with a smiling face and the
words:
“So be it, Ramerrez. But if anything happens,
remember you have only yourself to blame."
Ramerrez was astounded at her cool dismissal of
the subject. To judge by the expression on his face
he had indeed obtained his release far easier than he
had deemed it possible. As a matter of fact, her in-
difference so piqued him that before he was conscious
of his words he had asked somewhat lamely:
“You wish me well? We part as friends ?".
Nina regarded him with well-simulated surprise,
and replied:
“Why, of course — the best of friends. Good
luck, amigo!" And with that she rose and left him.
And so it was that later that evening after assuring
herself that neither Ramerrez nor any of his band
remained in the dance-hall, Nina, her face set and
pale, exchanged a few whispered words with that


76 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
sa
however, another horseman appeared, and laughing
boisterously at themselves they slid their guns back
into their belts and retied their horses, for the man
whom they recognised so quickly, the individual who
saved the situation, as it were, was none other than
Jose Castro, an ex-padrona of the bull-fights and the
second in command to Ramerrez. He was a wiry,
hard-faced and shifty-eyed Mexican, but was as thor-
oughly devoted to Ramerrez as he had been to the
young leader's father. On the other hand, the man
who had caused them to fear that a stranger had sur-
prised them, and that they had been trapped, was
Ramerrez or Johnson — the name that he had as-
sumed for the dangerous work he was about to en-
gage in — and they had failed to know him, dressed
as he was in the very latest fashion prevailing among
the Americans in Sacramento in '49. Nor was it to
be wondered at, for on his head was a soft, brown
hat — large, but not nearly the proportions of a
sombrero; a plain, rough tweed coat and a waistcoat
of a darker tan, which showed a blue flannel shirt be-
neath it; and his legs were encased in boots topped
by dark brown leggings. In a word, his get-up re-
sembled closely the type of American referred to
disdainfully by the miners of that time as a Sacra-
mento guy; whereas, the night before he had taken
great pains to attire himself as gaudily as any of the
Mexicans at the dance, and he had worn a short black


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 77.
jacket of a velvety material that was not unlike cor-
duroy and covered with braid; his breeches were of
the same stuff; above his boots were leather gaiters;
and around his waist was a red sash.
It was now close to four o'clock in the afternoon
and the band began their preparations for the raid.
To the rear of the small, open space where they had
been waiting was a fairly good-sized cave, in the
opening of which they deposited various articles un-
necessary for the expedition. It took only a short
time to do this, and within half an hour from the
time that their leader had so startled them by his
strange appearance, the outlaws were ready to take
the trail for Cloudy Mountain. One comprehensive
glance the psuedo-American — and he certainly
looked the part — shot at his picturesque, if rough-
looking followers, not a few of whom showed red
bandannas under their sombreros or around their
necks — and then with a satisfied expression on his
face — for he had a leader's pride in his men — he
gave the signal and led the way along and down the
steep trail from the tableland. And as from time
to time he glanced back over his shoulders to where
the men were coming along in single file, he could
see that in every eye was a glint of exultation at the
prospect of booty.
After they had gone about three miles they
crossed the black ravine, and from there they began
ive


78 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
WaV6
to ascend. Up and up they went, the path very hard
on the horses, until finally they came to the top of a
pass where it had been arranged that the band should
await further instructions, none going on further save
the two leaders. Here, saddle-girths and guns were
inspected, the last orders given, and with a wave of
the hand in response to the muttered wishes of good
luck, Johnson, — for as such he will be known from
this time on,- followed by Castro, made his way
through the forest towards Cloudy Mountain.
For an hour or so Johnson rode along in that di-
rection, checking the speed of his horse every time
the sun came into view and showed that there was yet
some time before sunset. Presently, he made a sign
to Castro to take the lead, for he had never been in
this locality before, and was relying on his subordi-
nate to find a spot from which he could reconnoitre
the scene of the proposed raid without the slightest
danger of meeting any of the miners.
At a very sharp turn of the road to the left Castro
struck off through the forest to the right and, within
a few minutes, reached a place where the trees had
thinned out and were replaced by the few scrubs that
grew in a spot almost barren. A minute or so more
and the two men, their horses tied, were able to get
an uninterrupted view of Cloudy Mountain.
The scene before them was one of grandeur. Day
was giving place to night, fall to winter, and yet at


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 79
yes
this hour all the winds were stilled. In the distance
gleamed the snow-capped Sierras, range after range
as far as the eye could see to the northwest; in the
opposite direction there stood out against the steel-
blue of the sky a succession of wooded peaks ever
rising higher and higher until culminating in the far-
away white mountains of the south; and below, they
looked upon a ravine that was brownish-green until
the rays of the departing orb touched the leaves with
opal tints.
Now the fast-falling sun flung its banner of gor-
geous colours across the western sky. Immediately a
wonderful light played upon the fleecy cumuli gath-
ered in the upper heavens of the east and changed
them from pearl to brilliant scarlet. For a moment,
also, the purple hills became wonderful piles of dull
gold and copper; a moment more and the magic
hand of the King of Day was withdrawn.
In front of them now, dark, gloomy and threaten-
ing rose Cloudy Mountain, from which the Mining
Camp took its name; and on a plateau near its base
the camp itself could plainly be seen. It consisted
of a group of miners' cabins set among pines, firs
and manzaneta bushes with two larger pine-slab
buildings, and scattered around in various places
were shafts, whose crude timber-hoists appeared
merely as vague outlines in the fast-fading light.
The distance to the camp from where they stood
een.


80 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
was
OC
TOW
een
was not over three miles as the crow flies, but it ap-
peared much less in the rarefied atmosphere.
As the two bandits stood on the edge of the preci-
pice looking across and beyond the intervening gulch
or ravine, here and there a light twinkled out from
the cabins and, presently, a much stronger illumina-
tion shot forth from one of the larger and more pre-
tentious buildings. Castro was quick to call his mas-
ter's attention to it.
“There — that place with the light is The Pal-
metto Hotell" he exclaimed. “And over there —
the one with the larger light is The Polka Saloon!"
For even as he spoke the powerful kerosene lamp
of The Polka Saloon, flanked by a composition
metal reflector, flashed out its light into the gloom en-
veloping the desolate, ominous-looking mountains.
Johnson regarded this building long and thought-
fully. Then his eyes made out a steep trail which
zigzagged from The Polka Saloon up the barren
slopes of the mountain until it reached a cabin
perched on the very top, the steps and porch of
which were held up by poles made of trees. There,
also, a light could be seen, but dimly. It was a
strange place for anyone to erect a dwelling-place,
and he found himself wondering what manner of
person dwelt there. Of one thing he was certain:
whoever it was the mountains were loved for them-
selves, for no mere digger of gold would think of


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 81
erecting a habitation in view of those strange, vast,
and silent heights!
And as he meditated thus, he perceived that the far
off Sierras were forming a background for a sinuous
coil of smoke from the cabin. For some time he:
watched it curling up into the great arch of sky.
It was as if he were hypnotised by it and, in a vague,
· shadowy way, he had a sense of being connected,
- somehow, with the little cabin and its recluse. Was
this feeling that he had a premonition of danger?
Was this a moment of foreboding and distrust of the
situation yet to be revealed? For like most ven-
turesome men he always had a moment before every
one of his undertakings in which his instinct either
urged him forward or held him back.
Suddenly he became conscious that his eyes no
longer saw the smoke. He stared hard to glimpse
it, but it was gone. And with a supreme effort he
wrenched himself free from a sort of paralysis which
was stealing away his senses.
Now the light in the cabin disappeared, and
since the shades of night, for which he had been
waiting, had fallen, he called to the impatient and
wondering Castro, and together they went back to
the trail.
But even as they crossed the gulch and reached
the outskirts of the camp a great white moon rose
from behind the Sierras. To Castro, hidden now


82 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
in the pines, it meant nothing so long as it did
not interfere with his purpose. As a matter of fact
he was already listening intently to the bursts of
song and shouts of revelry that came every now and
then from the nearby saloon. But his master, un-
accountably under the spell of the moon's mystery
and romance, watched it until it shed its silvery and
magic light upon the lone cabin on the top of Cloudy
Mountain, which Fate had chosen for the decisive
scene of his dramatic life.


84 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“Renzo, boys, renzo," finished Trinidad, falling
in place at the table.
At this point the outside door wås unexpectedly.
pushed open, inward, and the Deputy-Sheriff came
into their midst.
“Ashby just rode in with his posse,” he announced
huskily to his superior.
The Sheriff flashed a look of annoyance and in-
quired of the gaunt, hollow-cheeked, muscular Deputy
whose beaver overcoat was thrown open so that his
gun and powder-flask showed plainly in his belt:
“Why, what's he doing here?”
“He's after Ramerrez," answered the Deputy,
eyeing him intently.
Rance received this information in silence and went
on with his shuffling of the cards; presently, uncon-
cernedly, he remarked:
“Ramerrez — Oh, that's the polite road agent
who has been visiting the other camps?”.
“Yes; he's just turned into your county," de-
clared the Deputy, meaningly.
“What?” Sonora looked dumbfounded.
The Deputy nodded and proceeded to the bar.
And while he drained the contents of his glass, the
Minstrel played on his banjo, much to the amuse-
ment of the men, who showed their appreciation by
laughing heartily, the last bars of, “Pop Goes the
Weasel.”


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 85
“Hello, Sheriff !” greeted Ashby, coming in just
as the merriment over the Minstrel's little joke had
died away. Ashby's voice — quick, sharp and de-
cisive — was that of a man accustomed to ordering
men, but his manner was suave, if a trifle gruff.
Moreover, he was a man of whom it could be said,
paradoxical as it may seem, that he was never known
to be drunk nor ever known to be sober. It was
plain from his appearance that he had been some
time on the road.
Rance rose and politely extended his hand. And,
although the greeting between the two men was
none too cordial, yet in their look, as they eyed each
other, was the respect which men have for others en-
gaged more or less in the same business and in whom
they recognise certain qualities which they have in
common. In point of age Ashby was, perhaps, the
senior. As far as reputation was concerned, both
men were accounted nervy and square. Rance in-
troduced him to Sonora and the others, saying:
“ Boys, Mr. Ashby of Wells Fargo."
The latter had a pleasant word or two for the men;
then, turning to the Deputy, he said:
“ And how are you these days ? "
“Fit. And yourself?”.
“Same here.” Turning now to the barkeeper,
Ashby, with easy familiarity, added: “Say, Nick,
give us a drink.”


86 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“Sure!" came promptly from the little bar-
keeper.
“ Everybody 'll have the same?” inquired Ashby,
turning once more to the men.
“The same !" returned the men in chorus.
Thereupon, Nick briskly slapped down a bottle
and four glasses before the Sheriff, and leaving him
to do the honours, disappeared into the dance-hall.
“Well, I trust the Girl who runs The Polka is
well ? " inquired Ashby, pushing his glass near the
bottle.
“ Fine as silk," vouched Sonora, adding in the
next breath: “But, say, Mr. Ashby, how long you
been chasin' up this road agent?".
"Oh, he only took to the road a few months ago,"
was Ashby's answer. “Wells Fargo have had me
and a posse busy ever since. He's a wonder!”.
“Must be to evade you," complimented Sonora,
much to the discomfort of the Sheriff.
“Yes, I can smell a road agent in the wind," de-
clared Ashby somewhat boastfully. “But, Rance,
I expect to get that fellow right here in your county."
The Sheriff looked as if he scouted the idea, and
was about to speak, but checked the word on his
tongue. Then followed a short silence in which the
Deputy, smiling a trifle derisively, went out of the
saloon.
"Is this fellow, a Spaniard?" questioned the


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 87
Sheriff, drawling as usual, but at the same time jerk-
ing his thumb over his shoulder towards a placard
on the wall, which read:
“FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS RE-
WARD FOR THE ROAD AGENT
RAMERREZ, OR INFORMATION
LEADING TO HIS CAPTURE.
(SIGNED) WELLS FARGO.”
“No— can't prove it. The fact of his leading
a crew of greasers and Spaniards signifies nothing.
His name is assumed, I suppose.”
“They say he robs you like a gentleman," re-
marked Rance with some show of interest.
“Well, look out for the greasers up the road!”
was Ashby's warning as he emptied his glass and
put it down before him.
“We don't let them pass through here," shrugged
Rance, likewise putting down his glass on the table.
Ashby now picked up the whisky bottle and car-
ried it over to the deserted faro table before which
he settled himself comfortably in a chair.
“Well, boys, I've had a long ride — wake me up
when The Pony Express goes through!” he called
over his shoulder as he put his coat over him.
But no sooner was he comfortably ensconced for
a snooze than Nick came bustling in with a kettle
of boiling water and several glasses half-filled with


88 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
ra
whisky and lemon. Stopping before Ashby he said
in his best professional manner:
“Re-gards of the Girl — hot whisky straight
with lemming extract."
Ashby took up his glass, as did, in turn, the men at
the other table. But it was Rance who, with arm
uplifted, toasted:
“The Girl, gentlemen, the only Girl in Camp, the
Girl I mean to make Mrs. Jack Rance!”.
Confident that neither would catch him in the act,
Nick winked first at Sonora and then at Trinidad.
That the little barkeeper was successful in making
the former, at least, believe that he possessed the
Girl's affections was manifested by the big miner's
next remark.
"That's a joke, Rance. She makes you look like
a Chinaman."
Rance sprang to his feet, white with rage.
“You prove that!” he shouted.
“In what particular spot will you have it?"
taunted Sonora, as his hand crept for his gun.
Simultaneously every man in the room made a
dash for cover. Nick ducked behind the bar, for,
as he told himself when safely settled there, he was
too old a bird to get anywhere near the line of fire
when two old stagers got to making lead fly about.
Nor was Trinidad slow in arriving at the other end
of the bar where he caromed against Jake, who had


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 89
dropped his banjo and was frantically trying to kick
the spring of the iron shield in an endeavour to pro-
tect himself — a feat which, at last, he succeeded in
performing. But, fortunately, for all concerned,
as the two men stood eyeing each other, their hands
on their hips ready to draw, Nick, from his position
behind the bar, glimpsed through the window the
Girl on the point of entering the saloon.
“Here comes the Girl!” he cried excitedly.
“Aw, leave your guns alone — take your drinks,
quick!”
For a fraction of a second the men looked sheep-
ishly at one another, even Nick appearing a trifle
uncomfortable, as he picked up the kettle and went
off with it.
“Once more we're friends, eh, boys?” said Rance,
with a forced laugh; and then as he lifted his glass
high in the air, he gave the toast:
“The Girl!"
“The Girl!” repeated all — all save Ashby,
whose snores by this time could be heard throughout
the big room — and drained their glasses.


VI
There was a general movement towards the bar
when the fair proprietress of The Polka, who had
lingered longer than usual in her little cabin on top
of the mountain, breezily entered the place by the
main door. In a coarse, blue skirt, and rough, white
flannel blouse, cut away and held in place at the
throat by a crimson ribbon, the Girl made a pretty
picture; it was not difficult to see why the boys of
Cloudy Mountain Camp had a feeling which fell lit-
tle short of adoration for this sun-browned maid,
with the spirit of the mountain in her eyes. That
each in his own way had given her to understand
that he was desperately smitten with her, goes with-
out saying. But, although she accepted their rough
homage as a matter of course, such a thought as fall-
ing in love with anyone of them had never entered
her mind.
As far back, almost, as she could remember, the
Girl had lived among them and had ever been a
true comrade, sharing their disappointments and
thrilling with their successes. Of a nature pure and
simple, she was, nevertheless, frank and outspoken.
Moreover, she knew to a dot what was meant when
someone — bolder than his mates — stretched out
his arms to her. One such exhibition on a man's
arms
n
a
90


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 91
part she was likely to forgive and forget, but the
wrath and scorn that had blazed forth from her blue
eyes on such an occasion had been sufficient to pre-
vent a repetition of the offence. In short, unspoiled
by their coarse flattery, and, to all appearances, happy
and care-free, she attended to the running of The
Polka wholly unsmirched by her environment. .
But a keen observer would not have failed to de-
tect that the Girl took a little less pleasure in her
surroundings than she had taken in them before she
had made the trip to Monterey. Downright glad,
to use her own expression, as she had been on her
return to see the boys of the camp and hear their
boisterous shouts of welcome when the stage drew
up in front of The Polka, she had to acknowledge
that her home-coming was not quite what she ex-
pected. It was as if she had suddenly been startled
out of a beautiful dream wherein she had been listen-
ing to the soft music of her lover's voice and brought
face to face with the actualities of life, which, in her
case, to say the least, were very real.
For hours after leaving her admirer sitting mo-
tionless on his horse on the great highway between
Monterey and Sacramento, the Girl had indulged in
some pertinent thoughts which, if the truth were
known, were anything but complimentary to her be-
haviour. And, however successful she was later on
in persuading herself that he would eventually seek


92 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
her out, there was no question that at first she felt
that the chances of her ever setting eyes on him
again were almost negligible. All the more bitterly,
therefore, did she regret her folly in not having told
him where she lived; particularly so since she as-
sured herself that not only was he the handsomest
man that she had ever seen, but that he was the only
one who had ever succeeded in chaining her atten-
tion. That he had been making love to her with his
eyes, if not with words, she knew only too well —
a fact that had been anything but displeasing to her.
Indeed, far from having felt sorry that she had en-
couraged him, she, unblushingly, acknowledged to
herself that, if she had the thing to do over again,
she would encourage him still more.
Was she then a flirt? Not at all, in the common
acceptation of the word. All her knowledge of the
ways of the world had been derived from Mother
Nature, who had supplied her with a quick and ready
wit to turn aside, with a smile, the protestations of
the boys; had taught her how to live on intimate
terms with them and yet not be intimate; but when it
came to playing at love, which every city maid of
the same age is an adept at, she was strangely igno-
rant. Of a truth, then, it was something far
broader and deeper that had entered into her heart
love. Not infrequently love comes as suddenly


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
93
as this to young women who live in small mining
camps or out-of-the-way places where the men are
practically of a type; it is their unfamiliarity with the
class which a stranger represents when he makes his
appearance in their midst that is responsible, fully
as much as his own personality, for their being at-
tracted to him. It is not impossible, of course,
that if the Girl had met him in Cloudy,— say as a
miner there, — the result would have been precisely
the same. But it is much more likely that the at
tendant conditions of their meeting aided him in ap-
pealing to her imagination, and in touching a chord
in her nature which, under other circumstances,
would not have responded in as many months as there
were minutes on that eventful day.
Little wonder then, that as each succeeding mile
travelled by the stage took her further and further
away from him, something which, as yet, she did not
dare to name, kept tugging at her heartstrings and
which she endeavoured to overcome by listening to
the stage driver's long-winded reminiscences and an-
ecdotes concerning the country through which they
were passing. But, although she made a brave effort
to appear interested, it did not take him long to
realise that something was on his passenger's mind
and, being a wise man, he gradually relapsed into
silence, with the result that, before the long journey
ay
erco


94 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
ended at Cloudy Mountain, she had deceived herself
into believing that she was certain to see her admirer
again.
But as the days grew into weeks, the weeks into
months, and the Girl neither saw nor heard anything
of him, it was inevitable that the picture that he had
left on her mind should begin to grow dim. Never-
theless, it was surprising what a knack his figure had
of appearing before her at various times of the day
and night, when she never failed to compare him
with the miners in the camp, and, needless to say, un-
flatteringly to them. There came a time, it is true,
when she was sorely tempted to tell one of them
something of this new-found friend of hers; but
rightly surmising the effect that her praising of her
paragon would have upon the recipient of her confi-
dences, she wisely resolved to lock up his image in
her heart.
Of course, there were moments, too, when the
Girl regretted that there was no other woman —
some friend of her own sex in the camp — to whom
she could confide her little romance. But since that
boon was denied her, she took to seeking out the
most solitary places to dream of him. In such moods
she would climb to a high crag, a few feet from her
cabin, and with a reminiscent and far-away look in
her eyes she would sit for hours gazing at the great
canyons and gorges, the broad forests and wooded


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 95.
hillsides, the waterfalls flashing silver in the distance,
and, above all, at the wonderously-grand and snow-
capped peaks of the main range.
At other times she would take the trail leading
from the camp to the country below, and after
wandering about aimlessly in the beautiful and mys-
terious forests, she would select some little glen
through which a brook trickled and murmured under-
neath the ferns into a pool, and seating herself on a
clump of velvet moss, the great sugar pines and firs
forming a canopy over her head, she would whisper
her secret thoughts and wild hopes to the gorgeously-
plumed birds and saucy squirrels scampering all about
her. The hours spent thus were as oases in her
otherwise practical existence, and after a while she
would return laden down with great bunches of ferns
and wild flowers which, eventually, found a place on
the walls of The Polka.
Glancing at the bar to see that everything was to
her satisfaction, the Girl greeted the boys warmly,
almost rapturously with:
“Hello, boys! How's everythin'? Gettin' taken
care of?"
“Hello, Girl!" sang out Sonora in what he con-
sidered was his most fetching manner. He had been
the first to reach the coveted position opposite the
Girl, although Handsome, who had followed her in,


96
GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
was leaning at the end of the bar nearest to the
dance-hall.
“Hello, Sonora !” returned the Girl with an
amused smile, for it was impossible with her keen
sense of humour not to see Sonora's attempts to make
himself irresistible to her. Nor did she fail to ob-
serve that Trinidad, likewise, had spruced himself up
a little more than usual, with the same purpose in
mind.
“Hello, Girl!” he said, strolling up to her with a
ludicrous swagger.
“Hello, Trin!" came from the Girl, smilingly.
There was an awkward pause in which both
Sonora and Trinidad floundered about in their minds
for something to say; at length, a brilliant inspiration
came to the former, and he asked:
“Say, Girl, make me a prairie oyster, will you?"
“All, right, Sonora, I'll fix you right up," returned
the Girl, smiling to herself at his effort. But at the
moment that she was reaching for a bottle back of
the bar, a terrific whoop came from the dance-hall,
and ever-watchful lest the boys' fun should get beyond
her control, she called to her factotum to quiet things
down in the next room, concluding warningly:
“They've had about enough."
When the barkeeper had gone to do her bidding,
the Girl picked up an egg, and, poising it over a glass,
she went on:
Cal16


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 97.
“Say, look 'ere, Sonora, before I crack this 'ere
egg, I'd like to state that eggs is four bits apiece.
Only two hens left —” She broke off short, and
turning upon Handsome, who had been gradually
sidling up until his elbows almost touched hers, she
repulsed him a trifle impatiently:
"Oh, run away, Handsome!”
A flush of pleasure at Handsome's evident dis-
comfiture spread over Sonora's countenance, and
comical, indeed, to the Girl, was the majestic air
he took on when he ordered recklessly:
“Oh, crack the egg — I'll stand for it.”
But Sonora's fancied advantage over the others
was of short duration, for the next instant Nick,
stepping quickly forward with a drink, handed it to
the Girl with the words:
“Regards of Blonde Harry."
Again Sonora experienced a feeling akin to jeal-
ousy at what he termed Blonde Harry's impudence.
It almost immediately gave way to a paroxysm of
chuckling; for, the Girl, quickly taking the glass
from Nick's hand, flung its contents into a nearby
receptacle.
“There — tell 'im that it hit the spot!" She
laughed.
Nick roared with the others, but on the threshold
of the dance-hall he paused, hesitated, and finally
came back, and advised in a low tone:


98 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
w arou
"Throw around a few kind words, Girl — good
for the bar.”
The Girl surveyed the barkeeper with playful
disapproval in her eye. However advantageous
might be his method of working up trade, she dis-
dained to follow his advice, and her laughing answer
was:
“Oh, you Nick!"
The peal of laughter that rung in Nick's ears as he
disappeared through the door, awakened Ashby and
brought him instantly to his feet. Despite his size,
he was remarkably quick in his movements, and in no
time at all he was standing before the bar with a
glass, which he had filled from the bottle that had
stood in front of him on the table, and was saying:
“ Compliments of Wells Fargo."
“ Thank you," returned the Girl; and then while
she shook the prairie oyster: “You see we live
high-shouldered here."
“That's what!” put in Sonora with a broad grin.
“What cigars have you?” asked Ashby, at the
conclusion of his round of drinks.
“Regalias, Auroas and Eurekas," reeled off the
Girl with her eye upon Billy Jackrabbit, who had
quietly come in and was sneaking about in an en-
deavour to find something worth pilfering.
“Oh, any will do,” Ashby told her, with a smile;
and while he was helping himself from a box of
see


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 99
Regalias, Nick suddenly appeared, calling out ex-
citedly:
"Man jest come in threatenin' to shoot up the
furniture!”
“Who is it?" calmly inquired the Girl, return-
ing the cigar-box to its place on the shelf.
“ Old man Watson!”
“Leave 'im shoot,- he's good for it!”
“Nick! Nick ! ” yelled several voices in the
dance-hall where old man Watson was surely having
the time of his life.
And still the Girl paid not the slightest attention
to the shooting or the cries of the men; what did
concern her, however, was the fact that the Indian
was drinking up the dregs in the whisky glasses on
the faro table.
“Here, you, Billy Jackrabbit! What are you
doin' here?” she exclaimed sharply, causing that
generally imperturbable redskin to start perceptibly.
“ Did you marry my squaw yet?”
Billy Jackrabbit's face wore as stolid an expres-
sion as ever, when he answered:
“Not so much married squaw — yet.”
“Not so much married ...” repeated the
Girl when the merriment, which his words provoked,
had subsided. “ Come 'ere, you thievin' redskin!"
And when he had slid up to the bar, and she had ex-
tracted from his pockets a number of cigars which
O
mai


100 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
she knew had been pilfered, she added: “You git
up to my cabin an' marry my squaw before I git
there." And at another emphatic “ Git!” the
Indian, much to the amusement of all, started for the
Girl's cabin.
“Here — here's your prairie oyster, Sonora,” at
last said the Girl; and then turning to the Sheriff and
speaking to him for the first time, she called out
gaily: “ Hello, Rance!”
“Hello, Girll” replied the Gambler without even
a glance at her or ceasing to shuffle the cards.
Presently, Sonora pulled out a bag of gold-dust
and told the Girl to clear the slate out of it. She was
in the act of taking the sack when Nick, rushing into
the room and jerking his thumb over his shoulder,
said:
“Say, Girl, there's a fellow in there wants to
know if we can help out on provisions."
“Sure; what does he want?” returned the Girl
with a show of willingness to accommodate him.
“Bread.”
“ Bread? Does he think we're runnin' a
bakery?”
" Then he asked for sardines.”
“Sardines ? Great Gilead! You tell 'im we
have nothin' but straight provisions here. We got
pickled oysters, smokin' tobacco an' the best whisky


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST IOI
101
he ever saw,” rapped out the Girl, proudly, and
turned her attention to the slate.
“You bet!” vouched Trinidad with a nod, as
Nick departed on his errand.
Finally, the Girl, having made her calculations,
opened the counter drawer and brought forth some
silver Mexican dollars, saying:
“Sonora, an' Mr. Ashby, your change!”
Ashby picked up his money, only to throw it in-
stantly back on the bar, and say gallantly:
“Keep the change — buy a ribbon at The Ridge
- compliments of Wells Fargo.".
“ Thank you," smiled the Girl, sweeping the
money into the drawer, but her manner showed
plainly that it was not an unusual thing for the pa-
trons of The Polka to refuse to accept the change.
Not to be outdone, Sonora quickly arose and went
counter where, pointing to his stack of
silver dollars, he said:
“Girl, buy two ribbons at The Ridge;" and then
with a significant glance towards Ashby, he added:
“Fawn's my colour.”
And again, as before, the voice that said, “Thank
you," was colourless, while her eyes rested upon the
ubiquitous Nick, who had entered with an armful
of wood and was intent upon making the room
warmer.
OV


102
102 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Rance snorted disapprovingly at Sonora's prod.
igality. That he considered that both his and
Ashby's attentions to the Girl had gone far enough
was made apparent by the severe manner in which
he envisaged them and drawled out:
“ Play cyards ?”
But to that gentleman's surprise the men did not
move. Instead, Ashby raising a warning finger to
the Girl, went on to advise that she should bank with
them oftener, concluding with:
“And then if this road agent Ramerrez should
drop in, you won't lose so much —”
“The devil you say!”cut in Sonora; while Trini-
dad broke out into a scornful laugh.
“Oh, go on, Mr. Ashby!” smilingly scoffed the
Girl. “I keep the specie in an empty keg now.
But I've took to bankin' personally in my stockin',"
she confided without the slightest trace of em-
barrassment.
“But say, we've got an awful pile this month,"
observed Nick, anxiously, leaving the fireplace and
joining the little ring of men about her. “It makes
me sort o' nervous — why, Sonora's got ten thou-
sand alone fer safe keepin' in that keg an'—".
" Ramerrez' band's everywhere," completed
Ashby with a start, his quick and trained ear having
caught the sound of horses' hoofs.
“But if a road agent did come here, I could offer


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 103
'im a drink an' he'd treat me like a perfect lady,"
contended the Girl, confidently.
“You bet he would, the durned old halibut ! "
was Sonora's comment, while Nick took occasion to
ask the Girl for some tobacco.
“Solace or Honeydew ?" she inquired, her hands
already on the assortment of tobacco underneath the
bar.
“Dew," was Nick's laconic answer.
And then it was that the Girl heard for the first
time the sound of the galloping hoofs; startled for
the moment, she inquired somewhat uneasily:
“Who's this, I wonder ?”
But no sooner were the words spoken than a voice
outside in the darkness sung out sharply:
“Hello!”
“Hello!” instantly returned another voice, which
the Girl recognised at once as being that of the
Deputy.
“ Big holdup last night at The Forks!” the first
voice was now saying.
“Holdup!” repeated several voices outside in
tones of excitement.
“Ramerrez —" went on the first voice, at which
ominous word all, including Ashby, began to ex-
change significant glances as they echoed:
“Ramerrez !"
The name had barely died on their lips, however,


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 105
“Pony Express, I want you!” Satisfied that his
command had been heard he retraced his footsteps
and found Handsome peering eagerly over Sonora's
shoulder.
“So, Sonora, you've got a newspaper," Handsome
was saying.
“Yes, but the infernal thing's two months old,"
returned the other disgustedly.
Handsome laughed, and wheeling round was just
in time to see the door ilung open and a young fellow
advance towards Ashby.
The Pony Express was a young man of not more
than twenty years of age. He was smooth-faced
and unshaven and, needless to say, was light of build,
for these riders were selected for their weight as well
as for their nerve. He wore a sombrero, a buck-
skin hunting-shirt, tight trousers tucked into high
boots with spurs, all of which were weather-beaten
and faded by wind, rain, dust and alkali. A pair
of Colt revolvers could be seen in his holsters, and
he carried in his hands, which were covered with
heavy gloves, a mail pouch — it being the company's
orders not to let his muchilo of heavy leather out of
his hands for a second.
“You drop mail at the greaser settlement?" in-
quired Ashby in his peremptory and incisive manner.
“Yes, sir," quickly responded the young man; and
then volunteered: “It's a tough place."


106 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Ashby scrutinised the newcomer closely before go
ing on with:
“ Know a girl there named Nina Micheltoreña?”
But before The Pony Express had time to reply
the Girl interposed scornfully:
“Nina Micheltoreña? Why, they all know 'er!
She's one o' them Cachuca girls with droopy, Span-
ish eyes! Oh, ask the boys about 'er!” And with
that she started to leave the room, stopping on her
way to clap both Trinidad and Sonora playfully on
the back. “Yes, ask the boys about 'er, they'll tell
you!” And so saying she fled from the room, fol-
lowed by the men she was poking fun at.
“ Hold her letters, you understand?" instructed
Ashby who, with the Sheriff, was alone now with
The Pony Express.
“Yes, sir," he replied earnestly. A moment later
there being no further orders forthcoming he hastily
took his leave.
Ashby now turned his attention to Rance.
“Sheriff,” said he, “to-night I expect to see this
Nina Micheltoreña either here or at The Palmetto."
Rance never raised an eyebrow.
“You do?” he remarked a moment later with
studied carelessness. “Well, the boys had better
look to their watches. I met that lady once."
Ashby shot him a look of inquiry.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 107
“She's looking to that five thousand reward for
Ramerrez," he told him.
Rance's interest was growing by leaps and bounds
though he continued to riffle the cards.
“What? She's after that?”
“Sure thing. She knows something ..."
And having delivered himself of this Ashby strode
over to the opposite side of the room where his coat
and hat were hanging upon an elk horn. While put-
ting them on he came face to face with the Girl who,
having merely glanced in at the dance-hall, was re-
turning to take up her duties behind the bar. “Well,
I'll have a look at that greaser up the road,” he said,
addressing her, and then went on half-jocularly, half-
seriously: “He may have his eye on the find in that
stocking."
“You be darned!” was the Girl's parting shot at
him as he went out into the night.
There was a long and impressive pause in which,
apparently, the Sheriff was making up his mind to
speak of matters scarcely incident to the situation
that had gone before; while fully conscious that she
was to be asked to give him an answer — she whose
answer had been given many times — the Girl stood
at the bar in an attitude of amused expectancy, and
fussing with things there. At length, Rance, glanc-
ing shyly over his shoulder to make sure that they


108 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
were alone, became all at once grave and his voice
fell soft and almost caressingly.
“Say, Girl!"
The young woman addressed stole a look at him
from under her lashes, all the while smiling a wise,
little smile to herself, but not a word did she vouch-
safe in reply.
Again Rance called to her over his shoulder:
“I say, Girl!”
The Girl took up a glass and began to polish it.
At last she deigned to favour him with “Hm?"
which, apparently, he did not hear, for again a si-
lence fell upon them. Finally, unable to bear the
suspense any longer, the Sheriff threw down his cards
on the table, and facing her he said:
“Say, Girl, will you marry me?"
“Nope," returned the Girl with a saucy toss of
the head.
Rance rose and strode over to the bar. Looking
fixedly at her with his steely grey eyes he demanded
the reason.
“'Cause you got a wife in Noo Orleans — or so
the mountain breezes say," was her ready answer.
Rance gave no sign of having heard her. Throw-
ing away the cigar he was smoking he asked in the
most nonchalant manner:
“Give me some of them cigars — my kind.”
a
sa


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 109
Reaching for a box behind her the Girl placed it
before him.
“Them's your kind, Jack."
From an inside pocket of his broadcloth coat
Rance took out an elaborate cigar-case, filled it
slowly, leaving out one cigar which he placed be-
tween his lips. When he had this one going satis-
factorily he rested both elbows on the edge of the
bar, and said bluntly:
“I'm stuck on you."
The Girl's lips parted a little mockingly.
“ Thank you."
Rance puffed away for a moment or two in silence,
and then with sudden determination he went on:
“I'm going to marry you."
“Think so ?” questioned the Girl, drawing her-
self up proudly. And while Rance proceeded to re-
light his cigar, it having gone out, she plumped both
elbows on the bar and looked him straight in the
eye, and announced: “ They ain't a man here
goin' to marry me."
The scene had precisely the appearance of a strug-
gle between two powerful wills. How long they
would have remained with elbows almost touching
and looking into each other's eyes it is difficult to de-
termine; but an interruption came in the person of the
barkeeper, who darted in, calling: “One good cigar!"


110 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Instantly the Girl reached behind her for the box
containing the choicest cigars, and handing one to
Nick, she said:
“Here's your poison — three bits. Why look at
'em,” she went on in the next breath to Rance;
“there's Handsome with two wives I know of some-
where East. And -” She broke off short and
ended with: “ Nick, who's that cigar for?”
“Tommy," he told her.
“Here, give that back!” she cried quickly put-
ting out her hand for it. “Tommy don't know a
good cigar when he's smokin' it.” And so saying
she put the choice cigar back in its place among its
fellows and handed him one from another box with
the remark: “ Same price, Nick."
Nick chuckled and went out.
“An' look at Trin with a widow in Sacramento.
An' you " The Girl broke off short and laughed
in his face. “Oh, not one o? you travellin' under
your own name!”
“One whisky!” ordered Nick, coming into the
room with a rush. Without a word the Girl took
down a bottle and poured it out for him while he
stood quietly looking on, grinning from ear to ear.
For Rance's weakness was known to him as it was
to every other man in Manzaneta County, and he be-
lieved that the Sheriff had taken advantage of his
absence to press his hopeless suit.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST III
111
“Here you be!" sang out the Girl, and passed
the glass over to him.
“He wants it with water,” returned.Nick, with a
snicker.
With a contemptuous gesture the Girl put the bot-
tle back on the shelf.
"No— no you don't; no fancy drinks here!” she
objected.
“ But he says he won't take it without water," pro-
tested Nick, though there was a twinkle in his eye.
“He's a fellow that's jest rode in from The Crossin',
so he says."
The Girl folded her arms and declared in a tone
of finality:
“He'll take it straight or git.”
“ But he won't git," contended Nick chuckling.
There was an ominous silence. Such behaviour
was without a parallel in the annals of Cloudy.
For much less than this, as the little barkeeper very
well knew, many a man had been disciplined by the
Girl. So, with his eyes fixed upon her face, he was
already revelling in the situation by way of anticipa-
tion, and rejoicing in the coming requital for his
own rebuff when the stranger had declined to leave
as ordered. It was merely a question of his wait-
ing for the words which would, as he put it, “take
the fellow down a peg." They were soon forth-
coming.
OWO
2S


112 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“You jest send 'im to me,” commanded the Girl.
" I'll curl his hair for him!”
Nick's face showed that the message was to his
liking. It was evident, also, that he meant to lose
no time in delivering it. A moment after he disap-
peared, Rance, who had been toying with a twenty
dollar gold piece which he took from his pocket,
turned to the Girl and said with great earnestness:
"Girl, I'll give you a thousand dollars on the spot
for a kiss," which offer met with no response other
than a nervous little laugh and the words:
“Some men invite bein' played."
The gambler shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, what are men made for?” said he, Aling-
ing the gold piece down on the bar in payment for
the cigar.
“That's true," placidly commented the Girl, mak-
ing the change.
Rance tried another tack.
“ You can't keep on running this place alone; it's
getting too big for you; too much money circulating
through The Polka. You need a man behind you."
All this was said in short, jerky sentences; moreover,
when she placed his change in front of him he pushed
it back almost angrily.
“Come now, marry me," again he pleaded.
“Nope."
“My wife won't know it."


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 113
“Nope."
“Now, see here, there's just one —”
“Nope — take it straight, Jack, nope . . ."
interrupted the Girl. She had made up her mind
that he had gone far enough; and firmly grabbing
his hand she slipped his change into it.
Without a word the Sheriff dropped the coins into
the cuspidor. The Girl saw the action and her eyes
flashed with anger. The next moment, however,
she looked up at him and said more gently than any
time yet:
“No, Jack, I can't marry you. Ah, come along
-start your game again — go on, Jack.” And
so saying she came out from behind the bar and
went over to the faro table with: “Whoop la!
Mula! Go! Good Lord, look at that faro table!"
But Rance was on the verge of losing control of
himself. There was passion in his steely grey eyes
when he advanced towards her, but although the
Girl saw the look she did not flinch, and met it in a
clear, straight glance.
“Look here, Jack Rance," she said, "let's have
it out right now. I run The Polka 'cause I like it.
My father taught me the business an', well, don't
you worry 'bout me — I can look after m'self. I
carry my little wepping”- and with that she
touched significantly the little pocket of her dress.
“I'm independent, I'm happy, The Polka's payin',
a


114 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
an' it's bully !” she wound up, laughing. Then,
with one of her quick changes of mood, she turned
upon him angrily and demanded: “Say, what the
devil do you mean by proposin' to me with a wife in
Noo Orleans ? Now, this is a respectable saloon,
an' I don't want no more of it.”
A look of gloom came into Rance's eyes.
“I didn't say anything —" he began.
“Push me that Queen," interrupted the Girl,
sharply, gathering up the cards at the faro table, and
pointing to one that was just beyond her reach. But
when Rance handed it to her and was moving silently
away, she added: “Ah, no offence, Jack, but I got
other idees o' married life from what you have."
“Aw, nonsense l " came from the Sheriff in a voice
that was not free from irritation.
The Girl glanced up at him quickly. Her mind
was not the abode of hardened convictions, but was
tender to sentiment, and something in his manner at
once softening her, she said:
“Nonsense? I dunno 'bout that. You see —”
and her eyes took on a far away look —“I had a
home once an' I ain't forgot it – a home up over
our little saloon down in Soledad. I ain't forgot my
father an' my mother an' what a happy kepple they
were. Lord, how they loved each other — it was
beautifull"
Despite his seemingly callous exterior, there was


116 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
her eyes. Ah, she was a lady ...!” Im-
pulsively she rose and walked over to the bar.
“No," she went on, when behind it once more, “I
couldn't share that table an' The Polka with any man
- unless there was a heap o' carin' back of it. No,
I couldn't, Jack, I couldn't ..."
By this time the Sheriff's anger had completely
vanished; dejection was plainly written on every line
of his face.
“Well, I guess the boys were right; I am a China-
man,” he drawled out.
At once the Girl was all sympathy.
“Oh, no you're not, Jack!" she protested, speak-
ing as tenderly as she dared without encouraging
him.
Rance was quick to detect the change in her voice.
Now he leaned over the end of the bar and said in
tones that still held hope:
“Once when I rode in here it was nothing but
Jack, Jack, Jack Rance. By the Eternal, I nearly
got you then!”
“ Did you ?" The Girl was her saucy self again.
Rance ignored her manner, and went on:
“Then you went on that trip to Sacramento and
Monterey and you were different."
In spite of herself the Girl started, which Rance's
quick eye did not fail to note.
“Who's the man? " he blazed.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 117
For answer the Girl burst out into a peal of laugh-
ter. It was forced, and the man knew it.
"I suppose he's one o' them high-toned, Sacra-
mento shrimps !” he burst out gruffly; then he added
meaningly: “Do you think he'd have you?”
At those words a wondering look shone in the
Girl's eyes, and she asked in all seriousness:
“What's the matter with me? Is there anythin'
'bout me a high-toned gent would object to?" And
then as the full force of the insult was borne in upon
her she stepped out from behind the bar, and de-
manded: “Look here, Jack Rance, ain't I always
been a perfect lady ?"
Rance laughed discordantly.
“Oh, heaven knows your character's all right!"
And so saying he seated himself again at the table.
The girl flared up still more at this; she retorted:
“Well, that ain't your fault, Jack Rance!" But
the words were hardly out of her mouth than she
regretted having spoken them. She waited a mo-
ment, and then as he did not speak she murmured an
“Adios, Jack," and took up her position behind the
bar where, if Rance had been looking, he would
have seen her start on hearing a voice in the next
room and fix her eyes in a sort of fascinated wonder,
on a man who, after parting the pelt curtain, came
into the saloon with just a suggestion of swagger in
his bearing.
ТОО


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 119
a
se
was CC
Although, perhaps, not fully appreciating his action,
he was, nevertheless, not unaware that, from the
point of view of the Polka, his refusal to take his.
whisky straight might be regarded as nothing less
than an insult. And now that it was too late he
was inclined, however much he resented an at-
tempt to interfere in a matter which he believed con-
cerned himself solely, to regret the provocation and
challenging words of his entrance if only because of
a realisation that a quarrel would be likely to upset
his plans. On the other hand, with every fraction of
a second that passed he was conscious of becoming
more and more desirous of humbling the man stand-
ing before him and scrutinising him so insolently;
moreover, he felt intuitively that the eyes of the Girl
were on him as well as on the other principal to this
silent but no less ominous conflict going on, and such
being the case it was obviously impossible for him to
withdraw from the position he had taken. As a sort
of compromise, therefore, he said, tentatively:
“I'm the man who wanted water in his whisky."
"You!” exclaimed the Girl; and then added re-
provingly: “Oh, Nick, this gentleman takes his
whisky as he likes it!”
And this from the Girl! The little barkeeper had
all the appearance of a man who thought the world
was coming to an end. He did not accept the Girl's
ultimatum until he had drawn down his face into an.
ance


120 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
expression of mock solemnity and ejaculated half-
aloud:
“Moses, what's come over 'er!”.
Johnson took a few steps nearer the Girl and
bowed low.
“In the presence of a lady I will take nothing,"
he said impressively. “But pardon me, you seem
to be almost at home here."
The girl leaned her elbows on the bar and her
chin in her hands, and answered with a tantalising
little laugh:
“ Who — me?”.
After a loud guffaw Nick took it upon himself to
explain matters; turning to Johnson he said:
“Why, she's the Girl who runs The Polka!”
Johnson's face wore a look of puzzled consterna-
tion; he saw no reason for levity.
“You . . .?"
“Yep,” nodded the Girl with a merry twinkle in
her eyes.
Johnson's face fell.
“She runs The Polka," he murmured to himself.
Of all places to have chosen — this! So the thing
he had dreaded had happened!
For odd as it unquestionably seemed to him that
she should turn up as the proprietress of a saloon
after months of searching high and low for her, it
was not this reflection that was uppermost in his


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 121
an
mind; on the contrary, it was the deeply humiliating
thought that he had come upon her when about to
ply his vocation. Regret came swiftly that he had
not thought to inquire who was the owner of The
Polka Saloon. Bitterly he cursed himself for his
dense stupidity. And yet, it was doubtful whether
any of his band could have informed him. All that
they knew of the place was that the miners of
Cloudy Mountain Camp were said to keep a large
amount of placer gold there; all that he had done
was to acquaint himself with the best means of get-
ting it. But his ruminations were soon dissipated by
Rance, who had come so close that their feet almost
touched, and was speaking in a voice that showed
the quarrelsome frame of mind that he was in.
"You're from The Crossing, the barkeeper
said —” he began, and then added pointedly: “I
don't remember you."
Johnson slowly turned from the Girl to the
speaker and calmly corrected:
“You're mistaken; I said I rode over from The
Crossing." And turning his back on the man he
faced the Girl with: “So, you run The Polka ? "
" I'm the Girl — the girl that runs The Polka,"
she said, and to his astonishment seemed to glory in
her occupation.
Presently, much to their delight, an opportunity
came to them to exchange a word or two with each


122 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
other without interruption. For, Rance, as if re-
volving some plan of action in his mind, had turned
on his heel and walked off a little way. A moment
more, however, and he was back again and more
malevolently aggressive than ever.
“No strangers are allowed in this camp,” he said,
glowering at Johnson; and then, his remark having
passed unheeded by the other, he sneered: “Per-
haps you're off the road; men often get mixed up
when they're visiting Nina Micheltoreña on the back
trail."
“Oh, Rance!” protested the Girl.
But Johnson, though angered, let the insinuation
pass unnoticed, and went on to say that he had
stopped in to rest his horse and, perhaps, if invited,
try his luck at a game of cards. And with this inti-
mation he crossed over to the poker table where he
picked up the deck that Rance had been using.
Rance hesitated, and finally followed up the
stranger until he brought up face to face with
him.
"You want a game, eh?” he drawled, coolly im-
pudent. “I haven't heard your name, young man."
"Name," echoed the Girl v
“Oh, names out here "
“My name's Johnson —” spoke up the man,
throwing down the cards on the table.
“Is what?" laughed the Girl, saucily, and, ap-


124 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“Out o' every fifty men who think they can play
poker one ain't mistaken,” was the Girl's caustic ob-
servation. The next instant, however, she jumped
down from the table and was back at her post, where,
'fearful lest he should think her wanting in hospi-
tality, she proposed: “Try a cigar, Mr. John-
son?”
“Thank you,” he said, rising, and following her
to the bar.
“ Best in the house - my compliments."
“You're very kind,” said Johnson, taking the
candle that she had lighted for him; then, when his
cigar was going, and in a voice that was intended for
her alone, he went on: “So you remember me?"
“If you remember me," returned the Girl, like-
wise in a low tone.
“What the devil are they talking about any-
way?” muttered Rance to himself as he stole a
glance at them over his shoulder, though he kept on
shuffling the cards.
“I met you on the road to Monterey,” said John-
son with a smile.
“Yes, comin' an' goin',” smiled back the Girl.
“You passed me a bunch o' wild syringa over the
wheel; you also asked me to go a-berryin'-" and
here she paused long enough to glance up at him
coquettishly before adding: “But I didn't see it,
Mr. Johnson."


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 125
"I noticed that,” observed Johnson, laughing.
“ An' when you went away you said " The
Girl broke off abruptly and replaced the candle on
the bar; then with a shy, embarrassed look on her
face she ended with: “Oh, I dunno.”
“Yes, you do, yes, you do," maintained Johnson.
“I said I'll think of you all the time — well, I've
thought of you ever since.”
There was a moment of embarrassment. Then:
“Somehow I kind o' tho't you might drop in,"
she said with averted eyes. “But as you didn't —"
She paused and summoned to her face a look which
she believed would adequately reflect a knowledge
of the proprieties. “O' course,” she tittered out,
“it wa'n't my place to remember you — first."
“But I didn't know where you lived — you never
told me, you know," contended the road agent,
which contention so satisfied the Girl — for she re-
membered only too well that she had not told him —
that she determined to show him further evidences of
her regard.
“Say, I got a special bottle here — best in the
house. Will you ...?"
“Why —"
The girl did not wait for him to finish his sen-
tence, but quickly placed a bottle and glass before
him.
“My compliments,” she whispered, smiling.


126 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
"You're very kind — thanks," returned the road
agent, and proceeded to pour out a drink.
Meanwhile, little of what was taking place had
been lost on Jack Rance. As the whispered conver-
sation continued, he grew more and more jealous,
and at the moment that Johnson was on the point of
putting the glass to his lips, Rance, rising quickly,
went over to him and deliberately knocked the glass
out of his hand.
With a crash it fell to the floor.
“Look here, Mr. Johnson, your ways are offen-
sive to me!” he cried; “ damned offensive! My
name is Rance — Jack Rance. Your business here
— your business ?” And without waiting for the
others reply he called out huskily: “ Boys! Boys!
Come in here!"
At this sudden and unexpected summons in the
Sheriff's well-known voice there was a rush from the
dance-hall; in an instant the good-natured, roistering
crowd, nosing a fight, crowded to the bar, where the
two men stood glaring at each other in suppressed
excitement.
"Boys," declared the Sheriff, his eye never leav-
ing Johnson's face, “there's a man here who won't
explain his business. He won't tell —”
“Won't he?” cut in Sonora, blusteringly.
“ Well, we'll see — we'll make 'im!".
There was a howl of execration from the bar.



"Boys, I vouch to Cloudy for Mr. Johnson"





GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 129
stood staring helplessly at one another; at length
Happy broke out with:
“Say, Handsome, ain't he got a purty action ?
An' ornamental sort o'cuss, ain't he? But say, kind
o presumin' like, ain't it, for a fellow breathin' the
obscurity o' The Crossin' to learn gents like us how
to ketch the ladies pronto ?”
“Which same," allowed Handsome, "shorely's a
most painful, not to say humiliatin' state o' things."
And then to the Girl he whispered: “It's up to you
- make a holy show of 'im.”
The Girl laughed.
“Me waltz? Me?” she cried, answering John-
son at last. “Oh, I can't waltz but I can polky."
Once more Johnson bent his tall figure to the
ground, and said:
“Then may I have the pleasure of the next
polka ?"
By this time Sonora had recovered from his as-
tonishment. After giving vent to a grunt expres-
sive of his contempt, he blurted out:
“That fellow's too flip!"
But the idea had taken hold of the Girl, though
she temporised shyly:
“Oh, I dunno! Makes me feel kind o foolish,
you know, kind o' retirin' like a elk in summer."
Johnson smiled in spite of himself.
“Elks are retiring," was his comment as he again


130 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
advanced and offered his arm in an impressive and
ceremonious manner.
“Well, I don't like everybody's hand on the back
o' my waist," said the Girl, running her hands up
and down her dress skirt. “But, somehow -"
She stopped, and fixing her eyes recklessly on Rance,
made a movement as if about to accept; but another
look at Johnson's proferred arm so embarrassed her
that she sent a look of appeal to the rough fellows,
who stood watching her with grinning faces.
"Oh, Lord, must I ?” she asked; then, hanging
back no longer, she suddenly Alung herself into his
arms with the cry: "Oh, come along!”
Promptly Johnson put his arm around the Girl's
waist, and breaking into a polka he swung her off
to the dance-hall where their appearance was greeted
with a succession of wild whoops from the men there,
as well as from the hilarious boys, who had rushed
pell-mell after them.
Left to himself and in a rage Rance began to pace
the floor.
“Cleaned out — cleaned out for fair by a high-
toned, fine-haired dog named Johnson! Well, I'll
be —” The sentence was never finished, his atten-
tion being caught and held by something which Nick
was carrying in from the dance-hall.
“What's that?” he demanded brusquely.
Nick's eyes were twinkling when he answered:


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 131
was
“ Johnson's saddle.”
Rance could control himself no longer; with a
sweep of his long arm he knocked the saddle out of
the other's hand, saying:
“Nick, I've a great notion to walk out of this
door and never step my foot in here again.”
Nick did not answer at once. While he did not
especially care for Rance he did not propose to let
his patronage, which was not inconsiderable, go
elsewhere without making an effort to hold it.
Therefore, he thought a moment before picking up
the saddle and placing it in the corner of the room.
“Aw, what you givin' us, Rance! She's only
a-kiddin' 'im," at last he said consolingly.
The Sheriff was about to question this when a loud
cry from outside arrested him.
“What's that?” he asked with his eyes upon the
door.
“Why that's — that's Ashby's voice," the bar-
keeper informed him; and going to the door, fol-
lowed by Rance, as well as the men who, on hear-
ing the cry, had rushed in from the dance-hall, he
opened it, and they heard again the voice that they,
all recognised now as that of the Wells Fargo Agent.
“Come on!” he was saying gruffly.
“What the deuce is up?" inquired Trinidad si-
multaneously with the Deputy's cry of “Bring him
in!” And almost instantly the Deputy, followed


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 133
the Deputy and Billy Jackrabbit took a lariat from
the wall and proceeded to bind their prisoner fast.
When this was done Ashby called to Nick to serve
him another drink, adding:
“Come on, boys!”.
Instantly there was an exclamatory lining up at
the bar, only Sonora, apparently, seeming disinclined
to accept, which Ashby was quick to note. Turning
to him quickly, he inquired:
“Say, my friend, don't you drink?"
But no insult had been intended by Sonora's omis-
sion; it was merely most inconsiderate on his part of
the feelings of others; and, therefore, there was a
note of apology in the voice that presently said:
“Oh, yes, Mr. Ashby, I'm with you all right."
During this conversation the eyes of the greaser
had been wandering all over the room. But as the
men moved away from him to take their drinks he
started violently and an expression of dismay crossed
his features. “Ramerrez' saddle!” he muttered to
himself. “The Maestro – he is taken!”
Just then there came a particularly loud burst of
approval from the spectators of the dancing going
on in the adjoining room, and instinctively the men
at the bar half-turned towards the noise. The pris-
oner's eyes followed their gaze and a fiendish grin
replaced the look of dismay on his face. “No, he
is there dancing with a girl," he said under his
en W


134 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
breath. A moment later Nick let down the bear.
skin curtain, shutting off completely the Mexican's
view of the dance-hall.
“Come, now, tell us what your name is?” The
voice was Ashby's who, together with the others,
now surrounded the prisoner. “ Speak up — who
are you?”
“My name ees Jose Castro; " and then he added
with a show of pride: “ Ex-padrona of the bulle
fights.”
“But the bull-fights are at Monterey! Why do
you come to this place?”.
All eyes instantly turned from the prisoner to
Rance, who had asked the question while seated at
the table, and from him they returned to the pris-
oner, most of the men giving vent to exclamations
of anger in tones that made the greaser squirm,
while Trinidad expressed the prevailing admiration
of the Sheriff's poser by crying out:
“That's the talk — you bet! Why do you come
here?”
Castro's face wore an air of candour as he replied:
“To tell the Señor Sheriff I know where ees
Ramerrez."
Rance turned on the prisoner a grim look.
“You lie!” he vociferated, at the same time rais-
ing his hand to check the angry mutterings of the
men that boded ill for the greaser.


136 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
At this juncture a Ridge boy, who had pushed
aside the bear-skin curtain and was gazing with
mouth wide open at the proceedings, suddenly cried
out:
“Why, hello, boys! What's the —” He got
no further. In a twinkling and with cries of “Shut
up! Git!" the men made for the intruder and
bodily threw him out of the room. When quiet was
restored Rance motioned to the prisoner to proceed.
“Ramerrez can be taken — too well taken," de-
clared the Mexican, gaining confidence as he went
on," if many men come with me — in forty minutes
there — back.”
Rance turned to Ashby and asked him what he
thought about it.
“I don't know what to think," was the Wells
Fargo Agent's reply. “But it certainly is curious.
This is the second warning — intimation that we
have had that he is somewhere in this vicinity."
“And this Nina Micheltoreña — you say she is
coming here to-night?”
Ashby nodded assent.
“ All the same, Rance," he maintained, "I
wouldn't go. Better drop in to The Palmetto
later."
“What? Risk losin' 'im?" exclaimed Sonora,
who had been listening intently to their conversation.
“We'll take the chance, boys, in spite of Ashby's


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 137
advice," Rance said decisively. It was with not a
little surprise that he heard the shouts with which
his words were approved by all save the Wells
Fargo Agent.
Now the miners made a rush for their coats, hats
and saddles, while from all sides came the cries of,
“ Come on, boys! Careful — there! Ready —
Sheriff !”
Gladly, cheerfully, Nick, too, did what he could
to get the men started by setting up the drinks for all
hands, though he remarked as he did so:
“It's goin' to snow, boys; I don't like the sniff in
the air."
But even the probability of encountering a storm
— which in that altitude was something decidedly to
be reckoned with — did not deter the men from
proceeding to make ready for the road agent's cap-
ture. In an incredibly short space of time they had
loaded up and got their horses together, and from the
harmony in their ranks while carrying out orders, it
was evident that not a man there doubted the success
of their undertaking.
“We'll git this road agent!” sung out Trinidad,
going out through the door.
"Right you are, pard!” agreed Sonora; but at
the door he called back to the greaser: “Come on,
you oily, garlic-eatin', red-peppery, dog-trottin', sun-
baked son of a skunk!"


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 139
prisoner, but with the appearance on the scene of
Johnson, he felt that his responsibility ceased in a
measure. He turned and gave his attention to mat-
ters pertaining to the bar. As a consequence, he did
not see the look of recognition that passed between
the two men, nor did he hear the whispered dialogue
in Spanish that followed.
“Maestro! Ramerrez!” came in whispered
tones from Castro.
“Speak quickly — go on,” came likewise in
whispered tones from the road agent.
“I let them take me according to your bidding,"
went on Castro.
“Careful, Jose, careful,” warned his master while
stooping to pick up his saddle, which he afterwards
laid on the faro table. It was while he was thus en-
gaged that Nick came over to the prisoner with a
glass of liquor, which he handed to him gruffly with:
“Here!"
At that moment several voices from the dance-
hall called somewhat impatiently: “Nick, Nick!"
“Oh, The Ridge boys are goin'!” he said, and
seeming intuitively to know what was wanted he
made for the bar. But before acceding to their
wishes, he turned to Johnson, took out his gun and
offered it to him with the words: “Say, watch this
greaser for a moment, will you?”
“ Certainly,” responded Johnson, quickly, declin-


140 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
ing the other's pistol by touching his own holster
significantly. “Tell the Girl you pressed me into
service," he concluded with a smile.
"Sure.” But on the point of going, the little
barkeeper turned to him and confided: “Say, the
Girl's taken an awful fancy to you."
“No?" deprecated the road agent.
“Yes," affirmed Nick. “ Drop in often — great
bar!”
Johnson smiled an assent as the other went out of
the room leaving master and man together.
“Now, then, Jose, go on," he said, when they
were alone.
“Bueno! Our men await the signal in the bushes
close by. I will lead the Sheriff far off — then I will
slip away. You quietly rob the place and fly — it
is death for you to linger — Ashby is here."
“Ashby!" The road agent started in alarm.
“ Ashby -" reiterated Castro and stopped on
seeing that Nick had returned to see that all was
well.
“All right, Nick, everything's all right,” Johnson
reassured him.
The outlaw's position remained unchanged until
Nick had withdrawn. From where he stood he now
saw for the first time the preparations that were be-
ing made for his capture: the red torchlights and
white candle-lighted lanterns which were reflected
n.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 141
through the windows; and a moment more he heard
the shouts of the miners calling to one another. Of
a sudden he was aroused to a consciousness, at least,
of their danger by Castro's warning:
“By to-morrow's twilight you must be safe in your
rancho.”
The road agent shook his head determinedly.
“No, we raid on.”
Castro was visibly excited.
“There are a hundred men on your track.”
Johnson smiled.
“Oh, one minute's start of the devil does me,
Jose.”
“Ah, but I fear the woman — Nina Michel-
toreña — I fear her terribly. She is close at hand
- knowing all, angry with you, and jealous — and
still loving you."
“Loving me? Oh, no, Jose! Nina, like youé
loves the spoils, not me. No, I raid on . . ."
A silence fell upon the two men, which was broken
by Sonora calling out:
“ Bring along the greaser, Dep!”.
"All right!” answered the loud voice of the
Deputy.
“You hear — we start," whispered Castro to his
master. “Give the signal.” And notwithstanding,
the miners were coming through the door for him
and stood waiting, torches in hand, he contrived to


142 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
finish: “ Antonio awaits for it. Only the woman
and her servant will stay behind here."
“Adios ! " whispered the master.
“Adios ! ” returned his man simultaneously with
the approach of the Deputy towards them.
It was then that the Girl's gay, happy voice floated
in on them from the dance-hall; she cried out:
“Good-night, boys, good-night! Remember me
to The Ridge!"
“You bet we will! So long! Whoop!
Whooppee!" chorussed the men, while the Deputy,
grabbing the Mexican by the collar, ordered him to,
• Come on!"
The situation was not without its humorous side
to the road agent; he could not resist following the
crowd to the door where he stood and watched his
would-be captors silently mount; listened to the
Sheriff give the word, which was immediately fol-
lowed by the sound of horses grunting as they sprang
forward into the darkness in a desperate effort to
escape the maddening pain of the descending quirts
and cruel spurs. It was a scene to set the blood rac-
ing through the veins, viewed in any light; and not
until the yells of the men had grown indistinct, and
all that could be heard was the ever-decreasing sound
of rushing hoofs, did the outlaw turn back into the
saloon over which there hung a silence which, by
contrast, he found strangely depressing.


VIII
THERE was a subtle change, an obvious lack of
warmth in Johnson's manner, which the Girl was
quick to feel upon returning to the now practically,
deserted saloon.
"Don't it feel funny here — kind o creepy?”
She gave the words a peculiar emphasis, which made
Johnson flash a quick, inquisitorial look at her; and
then, no comment being forthcoming, she went on
to explain: “I s'pose though that's 'cause I don't
remember seein' the bar so empty before.”
A somewhat awkward silence followed, which at
length was broken by the Girl, who ordered:
“ Lights out now! Put out the candle here, too,
Nick!" But while the little barkeeper proceeded
to carry out her instructions she turned to Johnson
with an eager, frank expression on her face, and
said: “Oh, you ain't goin', are you?”
“No— not yet — no —" stammered Johnson,
half-surprisedly, half-wonderingly.
The Girl's face wore a pleased look as she an-
swered:
“Oh, I'm so glad o' that!"
Another embarrassing silence followed. At last
Nick made a movement towards the window, say-
ing:
143


144 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“I'm goin' to put the shutters up."
“So early? What?” The Girl looked her sur-
prise.
“Well, you see, the boys are out huntin' Ramer-
rez, and there's too much money here . . ." said
Nick in a low tone.
The Girl laughed lightly.
“Oh, all right — cash in — but don't put the
head on the keg — I ain't cashed in m'self yet.”
Rolling the keg to one side of the room, Nick
beckoned to the Girl to come close to him, which she
did; and pointing to Johnson, who was strolling about
the room, humming softly to himself, he whispered:
“Say, Girl, know anythin' about — about him?"
But very significant as was Nick's pantomime,
which included the keg and Johnson, it succeeded only
in bringing forth a laugh from the Girl, and the
words:
“Oh, sure!"
Nevertheless, the faithful guardian of the Girl's
interests sent a startled glance of inquiry about the
room, and again asked:
“All right, eh?”
The Girl ignored the implication contained in the
other's glance, and answered “Yep," in such a tone
of finality that Nick, reassured at last, began to put
things ship-shape for the night. This took but a


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 145
moment or two, however, and then he quietly disap,
peared.
“Well, Mr. Johnson, it seems to be us a-keepin'
house here to-night, don't it?" said the Girl, alone
now with the road agent.
Her observation might easily have been interpreted
as purposely introductory to an intimate scene, not-
withstanding that it was made in a thoroughly mat-
ter-of-fact tone and without the slightest trace of
coquetry. But Johnson did not make the mistake of
misconstruing her words, puzzled though he was to
find a clue to them. His curiosity about her was in-
tense, and it showed plainly in the voice that said
presently:
“Isn't it strange how things come about?
Strange that I should have looked everywhere for
you and in the end find you here — at The Polka."
Johnson's emphasis on his last words sent a bright
red rushing over her, colouring her neck, her ears
and her broad, white forehead.
"Anythin' wrong with The Polka ? "
Johnson was conscious of an indiscreet remark;
nevertheless he ventured:
“Well, it's hardly the place for a young woman
like you."
The Girl made no reply to this but busied herself
with the closing-up of the saloon. Johnson in-


146 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
terpreted her silence as a difference of opinion.
Nevertheless, he repeated with emphasis:
“ It is decidedly no place for you."
“How so?"
“Well, it's rather unprotected, and ".
“Oh, pshaw!” interrupted the Girl somewhat
irritably. “I tol Ashby only to-night that I bet if
a rud agent come in here I could offer 'im a drink
an' he'd treat me like a perfect lady.” She stopped
and turned upon him impulsively with: “Say, that
reminds me, won't you take somethin'?”
Before answering, Johnson shot her a quick look
of inquiry to see whether there was not a hidden
meaning in her words. Of course there was not, the
remark being impelled by a sudden consciousness
that he might consider her inhospitable. Neverthe-
less, her going behind the bar and picking up a bot-
tle came somewhat as a relief to him.
“No, thank you," at last he said; and then as he
leaned heavily on the bar: “But I would very much
like to ask you a question.”
Instantly, to his great surprise, the Girl was eye-
ing him with mingled reproach and coquetry. So he
was going to do it! Was it possible that he thought
so lightly of her, she wondered. With all her heart
she wished that he would not make the same mistake
that others had.
“I know what it is — every stranger asks it
W


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 147
but I didn't think you would. You want to know if
I am decent? Well, I am, you bet!” she returned,
a defiant note creeping into her voice as she uttered
the concluding words.
“Oh, Girl, I'm not blind!” His eyes quailed be-
fore the look that flamed in hers. “And that was
not the question."
Instinctively something told the Girl that the man
spoke the truth, but notwithstanding which, she per-
mitted her eyes to express disbelief and “Dear me
suz!” fell from her lips with an odd little laugh.
On the other hand, Johnson declined to treat the
subject other than seriously. He had no desire, of
course, to enlarge upon the unconventionality of her
attitude, but he felt that his feelings towards her,
even if they were only friendly, justified him in giv-
ing her a warning. Moreover, he refused to admit
to himself that this was a mere chance meeting. He
had a consciousness, vague, but nevertheless real that,
at last, after all his searching, Fate had brought him
face to face with the one woman in all the world for
him. Unknown to himself, therefore, there was a
sort of jealous proprietorship in his manner towards
her as he now said:
“What I meant was this: I am sorry to find you
here almost at the mercy of the passer-by, where a
man may come, may drink, may rob you if he will —"
and here a flush of shame spread over his features
mar


148 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
in spite of himself — " and where, I daresay, more
than one has laid claim to a kiss."
The Girl turned upon him in good-natured con-
tempt.
“There's a good many people claimin' things they
never git. I've got my first kiss to give.”
Once more a brief silence fell upon them in which
the Girl busied herself with her cash box. She was
not unaware that his eyes were upon her, but she
was by no means sure that he believed her words.
Nor could she tell herself, unfortunately for her
peace of mind, that it made no difference to her.
“Have you been here long?” suddenly he asked.
“ Yep.”
“Lived in The Polka ?”
“ Nope.”
“Where do you live?”
“ Cabin up the mountain a little ways."
“ Cabin up the mountain a little ways," echoed
Johnson, reflectively. The next instant the little
figure before him had faded from his sight and in-
stead there appeared a vision of the little hut on the
top of Cloudy Mountain. Only a few hours back
he had stood on the precipice which looked towards
it, and had felt a vague, indefinable something, had
heard a voice speak to him out of the vastness which
he now believed to have been her spirit calling to
him.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 149
“ You're worth something better than this," after
a while he murmured with the tenderness of real
love in his voice.
“What's better'n this ? ” questioned the Girl with
a toss of her pretty blonde head. “I ain't a-boastin'
but if keepin' this saloon don't give me sort of a posi-
tion 'round here I dunno what does."
But the next moment there had flashed through
her mind a new thought concerning him. She came
out from behind the bar and confronted him with
the question:
“Look 'ere, you ain't one o' them exhorters from
the Missionaries' Camp, are you?”
The road agent smiled.
“My profession has its faults," he acknowledged,
“but I am not an exhorter."
But still the Girl was nonplussed, and eyed him
steadily for a moment or two.
“You know I can't figger out jest exactly what
you are?” she admitted smilingly.
“Well, try ...” he suggested, slightly col-
ouring under her persistent gaze.
“Well, you ain't one o' us."
“No?"
“Oh, I can tell — I can spot my man every time.
I tell you, keepin' saloon's a great educator.” And so
saying she plumped herself down in a chair and went
on very seriously now: “I dunno but what it's a
UU


150 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
good way to bring up girls — they git to know things.
Now," and here she looked at him long and ear.
nestly, “I'd trust you."
Johnson was conscious of a guilty feeling, though
he said as he took a seat beside her:
“You would trust me?".
The Girl nodded an assent and observed in a
tone that was intended to be thoroughly conclusive:
“Notice I danced with you to-night?”.
“Yes," was his brief reply, though the next mo-
ment he wondered that he had not found something
more to say.
"I seen from the first that you were the real
article."
“I beg your pardon," he said absently, still lost
in thought.
“Why, that was a compliment I handed out to
you," returned the Girl with a pained look on her
face.
“Oh!” he ejaculated with a faint little smile.
Now the Girl, who had drawn up her chair close
to his, leaned over and said in a low, confidential
voice:
“Your kind don't prevail much here. I can tell
- I got what you call a quick eye.”
As might be expected Johnson flushed guiltily at
this remark. No different, for that matter, would


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 151
е
a man
e conscience was
have acted many a man whose conscience was far
clearer.
“Oh, I'm afraid that men like me prevail — pre-
vail, as you say, — almost everywhere,” he said, lay-
ing such stress on the words that it would seem al-
most impossible for anyone not to see that they were
shot through with self-depreciation.
The Girl gave him a playful dig with her elbow.
“Go on! What are you givin' me! O'course
they don't .. .!” She laughed outright; but
the next instant checking herself, went on with abso-
lute ingenuousness: “Before I went on that trip to
Monterey I tho't Rance here was the genuine thing
in a gent, but the minute I kind o' glanced over you
on the road I—I seen he wasn't.” She stopped,
a realisation having suddenly been borne in upon her
that perhaps she was laying her heart too bare to him.
To cover up her embarrassment, therefore, she took
refuge, as before, in hospitality, and rushing over
to the bar she called to Nick to come and serve Mr.
Johnson with a drink, only to dismiss him the mo-
ment he put his head through the door with:
“Never mind, I'll help Mr. Johnson m'self.” Turn-
ing to her visitor again, she said: “Have your
whisky with water, won't you?".
“But I don't —” began Johnson in protest.
“Say," interrupted the Girl, falling back into her


152 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
favourite position of resting both elbows on the bar,
her face in her hands, “ I've got you figgered out.
You're awful good or awful bad.” A remark
which seemed to amuse the man, for he laughed
heartily.
“Now, what do you mean by that?" presently he
asked.
“Well, I mean so good that you're a teetotaller,
or so bad that you're tired o' life an' whisky."
Johnson shook his head.
“On the contrary, although I'm not good, I've
lived and I've liked life pretty well. It's been
bully!”
Surprised and delighted with his enthusiasm, the
Girl raised her eyes to his, which look he mistook —
not unnaturally after all that had been said — for
one of encouragement. A moment more and the re-
straint that he had exercised over himself had
vanished completely
“So have you liked it, Girl," he went on, trying
vainly to get possession of her hand, “ only you
haven't lived, you haven't lived — not with your na-
ture. You see I've got a quick eye, too."
To Johnson's amazement she flushed and averted
her face. Following the direction of her eyes he
saw Nick standing in the door with a broad grin on
his face.
“You git, Nick! What do you mean by. ..?"


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 153
cried out the Girl in a tone that left no doubt in the
minds of her hearers that she was annoyed, if not
angry, at the intrusion.
Nick disappeared into the dance-hall as though
shot out of a gun; whereupon, the Girl turned to
Johnson with:
“I haven't lived? That's good!”
Johnson's next words were insinuating, but his
voice was cold in comparison with the fervent tones
of a moment previous.
"Oh, you know!" was what he said, seating him-
self at the poker table.
“No, I don't,” contradicted the Girl, taking a
seat opposite him.
“Yes, you do,” he insisted.
“Well, say it's an even chance I do an' an even
chance I don't,” she parried.
Once more the passion in the man was stirring.
"I mean," he explained in a voice that barely
reached her, “ life for all it's worth, to the uttermost,
to the last drop in the.cup, so that it atones for what's
gone before, or may come after.”
The Girl's face wore a puzzled look as she an-
swered:
“No, I don't believe I know what you mean by
them words. Is it a—” She cut her sentence
short, and springing up, cried out: “Oh, Lord —
Oh, excuse me, I sat on my gun!”


154 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Johnson looked at her, genuine amusement
depicted on his face.
“Look here," said the Girl, suddenly perching
herself upon the table, “ I'm goin' to make you an
offer."
“An offer?” Johnson fairly snatched the words
out of her mouth. “You're going to make me an
offer ? "
" It's this,” declared the Girl with a pleased look
on her face. “If ever you need to be staked -"
Johnson eyed her uncomprehendingly.
“ Which o' course you don't," she hastened to
add. “Name your price. It's yours jest for the
style I git from you an' the deportment.”
"Deportment? Me?” A half-grin formed
over Johnson's face as he asked the question; then
he said: “Well, I never heard before that my so
ciety was so desirable. Apart from the financial
aspect of this matter, I -"
“Say," broke in the Girl, gazing at him in help-
less admiration, “ ain't that great? Ain't that great?
Oh, you got to let me stand treat!"
“No, really I would prefer not to take anything,"
responded Johnson, putting a restraining hand on
her as she was about to leap from the table.
At that moment Nick's hurried footsteps reached
their ears. Turning, the Girl, with a swift gesture,


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 155
waved him back. There was a brief silence, then
Johnson spoke:
“Say, Girl, you're like finding some new kind of
flower."
A slight laugh of confusion was his answer. The
next moment, however, she went on, speaking very
slowly and seriously: “Well, we're kind o' rough
up here, but we're reachin' out."
Johnson noted immediately the change in her
voice. There was no mistaking the genuineness of
her emotion, nor the wistful look in her eyes. It
was plain that she yearned for someone who would
teach her the ways of the outside world; and when
the man looked at the Girl with the lamp-light soft-
ening her features, he felt her sincerity, and was
pleased by her confidence.
“Now, I take it," continued the Girl with a vague,
dreamy look on her face, “that's what we're all put
on this earth for — everyone of us — is to rise our.
selves up in the world — to reach out.”
“That's true, that's true," returned Johnson with
gentle and perfect sympathy. “I venture to say
that there isn't a man who hasn't thought seriously
about that. I have. If only one knew how to reach
out for something one hardly dares even hope for.
Why, it's like trying to catch the star shining just
ahead."


156 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
The Girl could not restrain her enthusiasm.
“That's the cheese! You've struck it!”
At this juncture Nick appeared and refused to be
ordered away. At length, the Girl inquired some-
what impatiently:
“Well, what is it, Nick?”
" I've been tryin' to say," announced the bar-
keeper, whose face wore an expression of uneasiness
as he pointed to the window, “that I have seen an
ugly-lookin' greaser hanging around outside."
“A greaser!" exclaimed the Girl, uneasily.
“Let me look.” And with that she made a move-
ment towards the window, but was held back by
Johnson's detaining hand. All too well did he know
that the Mexican was one of his men waiting impa-
tiently for the signal. So, with an air of concern,
for he did not intend that the Girl should run any
risk, however remote, he said authoritatively:
“ Don't go!”
“Why not?" demanded the Girl.
Johnson sat strangely silent.
“I'll bolt the windows !" cried Nick. Hardly
had he disappeared into the dance-hall when a low
whistle came to their ears.
“The signal — they're waiting," said Johnson
under his breath, and shot a quick look of inquiry at
the Girl to see whether she had heard the sound.
A look told him that she had, and was uneasy over it.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 157,
“Don't that sound korrid?” said the Girl, reach-
ing the bar in a state of perturbation. “Say, I'm
awful glad you're here. Nick's so nervous. He
knows what a lot o' money I got. Why, there's a
little fortune in that keg."
Johnson started; then rising slowly he went over
to the keg and examined it with interest.
“ In there?” he asked, with difficulty concealing
his excitement.
“Yes; the boys sleep around it nights,” she went
on to confide.
Johnson looked at her curiously.
“But when they're gone — isn't that rather a
careless place to leave it?"
Quietly the Girl came from behind the bar and
went over and stood beside the keg; when she spoke
her eyes flashed dangerously.
“They'd have to kill me before they got it," she
said, with cool deliberation.
“Oh, I see — it's your money."
“No, it's the boys'.”
A look of relief crossed Johnson's features.
“Oh, that's different,” he contended; and then
brightening up somewhat, he went on: “Now, I
wouldn't risk my life for that.”
"Oh, yes, you would, yes, you would," declared
the Girl with feeling. A moment later she was
down on her knees putting bag after bag of the


158 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
was
precious gold-dust and coins into the keg. When
they were all in she closed the lid, and putting her
foot down hard to make it secure, she repeated :
“Oh, yes, you would, if you seen how hard they
got it. When I think of it, I nearly cry."
Johnson had listened absorbedly, and was
strangely affected by her words. In her rapidly-
filling eyes, in the wave of colour that surged in her
cheeks, in the voice that shook despite her efforts to
control it, he read how intense was her interest in
the welfare of the miners. How the men must
adore her!
Unconsciously the Girl arose, and said:
“There's somethin' awful pretty in the way the
boys hold out before they strike it, somethin' awful
pretty in the face o' rocks, an' clay an' alkali. Oh,
Lord, what a life it is anyway! They eat dirt, they.
sleep in dirt, they breathe dirt 'til their backs are
bent, their hands twisted an' warped. They're all
wind-swept an' blear-eyed I tell you, an' some o'
them jest lie down in their sweat beside the sluices,
an' they don't never rise up again. I've seen 'em
there!” She paused reminiscently; then, pointing
to the keg, she went on haltingly: “I got some
money there of Ol Brownie's. He was lyin' out
in the sun on a pile o'clay two weeks ago, an' I guess
the only clean thing about him was his soul, an' he
was quittin', quittin', quittin', right there on the clay,
-
-
-
-
-


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 159
an' quittin' hard. Oh, so hard!” Once more she
stopped and covered her face with her hands as if to
shut out the horror of it all. Presently she had her-
self under control and resumed: “Yes, he died -
died jest like a dog. You wanted to shoot 'im to
help 'im along quicker. Before he went he sez to
me: 'Girl, give it to my ol' woman. That was all
he said, an' he went. She'll git it, all right."
With every word that the Girl uttered, the iron
had entered deeper into Johnson's soul. Up to the
present time he had tried to regard his profession,
if he looked at it at all, from the point of view which
he inherited from his father. It was not, in all
truthfulness, what he would have chosen; it was
something that, at times, he lamented; but, neverthe-
less, he had practised it and had despoiled the miners
with but few moments of remorse. But now, he was
beginning to look upon things differently. In a
brief space of time a woman had impelled him to see
his actions in their true light; new ambitions and
desires awakened, and he looked downward as if it
were impossible to meet her honest eye.
“And that's what aches you," the Girl was now
saying. “There ain't one o' them men workin' for
themselves alone — the Lord never put it into no
man's heart to make a beast or a pack-horse o' him-
self, except for some woman or some child.” She
halted a moment, and throwing up her hands impul-
IS
an


160 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
sively, she cried: “Ain't it wonderful — ain't it
wonderful that instinct? Ain't it wonderful what a
man'll do when it comes to a woman — ain't it won-
derful?” Once more she waited as if expecting him
to corroborate her words; but he remained strangely
silent. A moment later when he raised his troubled
eyes, he saw that hers were dry and twinkling.
“Well, the boys use me as a — a sort of lady
bank,” presently she said; and then added with an-
other quick change of expression, and in a voice that
showed great determination: “You bet l'll drop
down dead before anyone'll get a dollar o' theirs
outer The Polka ! "
Impulsively the road agent's hand went out to her,
and with it went a mental resolution that so far as
he was concerned no hard-working miner of Cloudy
Mountain need fear for his gold!
“That's right," was what he said. “I'm with
you — I'd like to see anyone get that.” He dropped
her hand and laid his on the keg; then with a voice
charged with much feeling, he added: “Girl, I
wish to Heaven I could talk more with you, but I
can't. By daybreak I must be a long ways off.
I'm sorry - I should have liked to have called at
your cabin."
The Girl shot him a furtive glance.
“Must you be a-movin' so soon?" she asked.
“Yes; I'm only waiting till the posse gets back
Ore


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 161
and you're safe." And even as he spoke his trained
ear caught the sound of horses hoofs. “Why,
they're coming now!” he exclaimed with suppressed
excitement, and his eyes immediately fastened them-
selves on his saddle.
The Girl looked her disappointment when she
said:
“I'm awfully sorry you've got to go. I was
goin' to say —” She stopped, and began to roll the
keg back to its place. Now she took the lantern
from the bar and placed it on the keg; then turning
to him once more she went on in a voice that was dis-
tinctly persuasive: “If you didn't have to go so
soon, I would like to have you come up to the cabin
to-night an' we would talk o' reachin' out up there.
You see, the boys will be back here — we close The
Polka at one — any time after ..."
Hesitatingly, helplessly, Johnson stared at the
Girl before him. His acceptance, he realised only
too well, meant a pleasant hour or two for him, of
which there were only too few in the mad career that
he was following, and he wanted to take advantage
of it; on the other hand, his better judgment told
him that already he should be on his way.
“Why, I—I should ride on now." He began
and then stopped, the next moment, however, he
threw down his hat on the table in resignation and an-
nounced: “I'll come.”


162 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
can
“Oh, good!” cried the Girl, making no attempt
to conceal her delight. “You can use this,' she went
on, handing him the lantern. “It's the straight trail
up; you can't miss it. But I say, don't expect too
much o' me — I've only had thirty-two dollars'
worth o' education.” Despite her struggle to con-
trol herself, her voice broke and her eyes filled with
tears. “P'r’aps if I'd had more,” she kept on,
regretfully, “why, you can't tell what I might have
been. Say, that's a terrible tho't, ain't it? What
we might a been — an' I know it when I look at you."
Johnson was deeply touched at the Girl's distress,
and his voice broke, too, as he said:
“Yes, what we might have been is a terrible
thought, and I know it, Girl, when I look at you —
when I look at you.”
“You bet!” ejaculated the Girl. And then to
Johnson's consternation she broke down completely,
burying her face in her hands and sobbing out:
“Oh, 'tain't no use, I'm rotten, I'm ignorant, I don't
know nothin' an' I never knowed it 'till to-night!
The boys always tol me I knowed so much, but
they're such damn liars ! ”
In an instant Johnson was beside her, patting her
hand caressingly; she felt the sympathy in his touch
and was quick to respond to it.
“Don't you care, Girl, you're all right,” he told
her, choking back with difficulty the tears in his own


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 163
voice. “You're heart's all right, that's the main
thing. And as for your looks ? Well, to me you've
got the face of an angel — the face —” He broke
off abruptly and ended with: “Oh, but I must be
going now!”
A moment more and he stood framed in the door-
way, his saddle in one hand and the Girl's lantern in
the other, torn by two emotions which grappled with
each other in his bosom. “Johnson, what the
devil's the matter with you?" he muttered half-
aloud; then suddenly pulling himself together he
stumbled rather than walked out of The Polka into
the night.
Motionless and trying to check her sobs, the Girl
remained where he had left her; but a few minutes
later, when Nick entered, all trace of her tears had
disappeared.
“Nick," said she, all smiles now, “run over to
The Palmetto restaurant an' tell 'em to send me up
two charlotte rusks an'a lemming turnover — a
good, big, fat one — jest as quick as they can — right
up to the cabin for supper.".
“He says I have the face of an angel,” is what
the Girl repeated over and over again to herself when
perched up again on the poker table after the won-
dering barkeeper had departed on her errand, and
for a brief space of time her countenance reflected
the joy that Johnson's parting words had imprinted
er


164 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
on her heart. But in the Girl's character there was
an element too prosaic, and too practical, to permit her
thoughts to dwell long in a region lifted far above
the earth. It was inevitable, therefore, that the no-
tion should presently strike her as supremely comic
and, quickly leaping to the floor, she let out the one
word which, however adequately it may have ex-
pressed her conflicting emotions, is never by any
chance to be found in the vocabulary of angels in
good standing.


IX
NOTWITHSTANDING that The Palmetto was the most
pretentious building in Cloudy, and was the only
rooming and eating house that outwardly asserted its
right to be called an hotel, its saloon contrasted un-
favourably with its rival, The Polka. There was not
the individuality of the Girl there to charm away the
impress of coarseness settled upon it by the loafers,
the habitual drunkards and the riffraff of the camp,
who were not tolerated elsewhere. In short, it did
not have that certain indefinable something which
gave to The Polka Saloon an almost homelike ap-
pearance, but was a drab, squalid, soulless place with
nothing to recommend it but its size.
In a small parlour pungent at all times with the
odour of liquor,— but used only on rare occasions,
most of The Palmetto's patrons preferring the even
more stilling atmosphere of the bar-room,- the
Wells Fargo Agent had been watching and waiting
ever since he had left The Polka Saloon. On a
table in front of him was a bottle, for it was a part
of Ashby's scheme of things to solace thus all such
weary hours.
Although a shrewd judge of women of the Nina
Micheltoreña type and by no means unmindful of
their mercurial temperament, Ashby, nevertheless,
rare a
165


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 167
bacco and spirits peculiar to this room, with little or
no ventilation. It was enough to sicken anyone, but
both men, accustomed to such places in the pursuit
of their calling, apparently thought nothing of it,
the Sheriff seemingly absorbed in contemplating the
long ash at the end of his cigar, but, in reality, turn-
ing over in his mind whether he should leave the
room or not. At length, he inaugurated a little con-
test of opinion.
“This woman isn't coming, that's certain," he de-
clared, impatiently.
"I rather think she will; she promised not to fail
me," was the other's quiet answer; and he added:
“ In ten minutes you'll see her.”
It was a rash remark and expressive of a confi-
dence that he by no means felt. As a matter of fact,
it was induced solely by the cynical smile which he
perceived on the Sheriff's face.
"You, evidently, take no account of the fact that
the lady may have changed her mind," observed
Rance, lighting a fresh cigar. “The Nina Michel-
toreñas are fully as privileged as others of their
sex."
As he drained his glass Ashby gave the speaker
a sharp glance; another side of Rance's character
had cropped out. Moreover, Ashby's quick intui-
tion told him that the other's failure to catch the out-
law was not troubling him nearly as much as was the


168 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
blow which his conceit had probably received at the
hands of the Girl. It was, therefore, in an indulgent
tone that he said:
“No, Rance, not this one nor this time. You
mark my words, the woman is through with Ramer-
rez. At least, she is so jealous that she thinks she
is. She'll turn up here, never fear; she means
business."
The shoulders of Mr. Jack Rance strongly sug-
gested a shrug, but the man himself said nothing.
They were anything but sympathetic companions,
these two officers, and in the silence that ensued
Rance formulated mentally more than one dispar-
aging remark about the big man sitting opposite to
him. It is possible, of course, that the Sheriff's
rebuff by the Girl, together with the wild goose chase
which he had recently taken against his better judg-
ment, had something to do with this bitterness; but
it was none the less true that he found himself won-
dering how Ashby had succeeded in acquiring his
great reputation. Among the things that he held
against him was his everlasting propensity to boast
of his achievements, to say nothing of the pedestal
upon which the boys insisted upon placing him.
Was this Wells Fargo's most famous agent? Was
this the man whose warnings were given such cre-
dence that they stirred even the largest of the gold


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 169
camps into a sense of insecurity? And at this Rance
indulged again in a fit of mental merriment at the
other's expense.
But, although he would have denied it in toto, the
truth of the matter was that the Sheriff was jealous
of Ashby. Witty, generous, and a high liver, the
latter was generally regarded as a man who fasci-
nated women; moreover, he was known to be a
favourite — and here the shoe pinched — with the
Girl. True, the demands of his profession were
such as to prevent his staying long in any camp.
Nevertheless, it seemed to Rance that he contrived
frequently to turn up at The Polka when the boys
were at the diggings.
After Ashby's observation the conversation by
mutual, if unspoken, consent, was switched into other
channels. But it may be truth fully said that Rance
did not wholly recover his mental equilibrium until
a door was heard to open noiselessly and some whis-
pered words in Spanish fell upon their ears.
Now the Sheriff, as well as Ashby, had the de-
tective instinct fully developed; moreover, both men
knew a few words of that language and had an ex-
treme curiosity to hear the conversation going on
between a man and a woman, who were standing just
outside in a sort of hallway. As a result, therefore,
both officers sprang to the door with the hope — if


170 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
mar
indeed it was Nina Micheltoreña as they surmised -
that they might catch a word or two which would
give them a clue to what was likely to take place at
the coming interview. It came sooner than they ex-
pected.
“... Ramerrez — Five thousand dollars !"
reached their ears in a soft, Spanish voice.
Ashby needed nothing more than this. In an in-
stant, much to the Sheriff's astonishment, and moving
marvellously quick for a man of his heavy build, he
was out of the room, leaving Rance to face a woman
with a black mantilla thrown over her head who,
presently, entered by another door.
Nina Micheltoreña, for it was she, did not favour
him with as much as an icy look. Nor did the Sher-
iff give any sign of knowing her; a wise proceeding
as it turned out, for a quick turn of the head and a
subtle movement of the woman's shoulders told him
that she was in anything but a quiet state of mind.
One glance towards the door behind him, however,
and the reason of her anger was all too plain: A
Mexican was vainly struggling in the clutches of
Ashby.
“Why are you dragging him in?” Far from
quailing before him as did her confederate, she con-
fronted Ashby with eyes that flashed fire. “He
came with me --"


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 171
Ashby cut her short.
“We don't allow greasers in this camp and —"
he began in a throaty voice.
“ But he is waiting to take me back!” she ob-
jected, and then added: “I wish him to wait for
me outside, and unless you allow him to l'll go at
once." And with these words she made a movement
towards the door.
Ashby laid one restraining hand upon her, while
with the other he held on to the Mexican. Of a sud-
den there had dawned upon him the conviction that
for once in his life he had made a grievous mistake
He had thought, by the detention of her confederate,
to have two strings to his bow, but one glance at the
sneeringly censorious expression on the Sheriff's face
convinced him that no information would be forth-
coming from the woman while in her present rebel-
lious mood.
“ All right, my lady,” he said, for the time being
yielding to her will, "have your way." And turn-
ing now to the Mexican, he added none too gently:
“Here you, get out!”.
Whereupon the Mexican slunk out of the room.
“There's no use of your getting into a rage,"
went on Ashby, turning to the woman in a slightly
conciliatory manner. “I calculated that the greaser
would be in on the job, too."


172 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
All through this scene Rance had been sitting back
in his chair chewing his cigar in contemptuous silence,
while his face wore a look of languid insolence, a
fact which, apparently, did not disturb the woman in
the least, for she ignored him completely.
" It was well for you, Señor Ashby, that you let
him go. I tell you frankly that in another moment
I should have gone.” And now throwing back her
mantilla she took out a cigarette from a dainty, little
case and lit it and coolly blew a cloud of smoke in
Rance's face, saying: “ It depends on how you
treat me — you, Mr. Jack Rance, as well as Señor
Ashby — whether we come to terms or not. Per-
haps I had better go away anyway,” she concluded
with a shrug of admirably simulated indifference.
This time Ashby sat perfectly still. It was not
difficult to perceive that her anger was decreasing
with every word that she uttered; nor did he fail to
note how fuently she spoke English, a slight Spanish
accent giving added charm to her wonderfully soft
and musical voice. How gloriously beautiful, he
told himself, she looked as she stood there, voluptu-
ous, compelling, alluring, the expression that had
been almost diabolical, gradually fading from her
face. Was it possible, he asked himself, that all this
loveliness was soiled forever? He felt that there
was something pitiful in the fact that the woman
standing before him represented negotiable property
aco


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 173
S
me
which could be purchased by any passer-by who had
a few more nuggets in his possession than his neigh-
bour; and, perhaps, because of his knowledge of the
piteous history of this former belle of Monterey he
put a little more consideration into the voice that
said:
“ All right, Nina, we'll get down to business.
What have you to say to us?”
By this time Nina's passionate anger had burned
itself out. In anticipation, perhaps, of what she was
about to do, she looked straight ahead of her into
space. It was not because she was assailed by some
transient emotion to forswear her treacherous desire
for vengeance; she had no illusion of that kind. Too
vividly she recalled the road agent's indifferent
manner at their last interview for any feeling to
dwell in her heart other than hatred. It was that
she was summoning to appear a vision scarcely less
attractive, however pregnant with tragedy, than that
of seeing herself avenged: a gay, extravagant career
in Mexico or Spain which the reward would procure
for her. That was what she was seeing, and with a
pious wish for its confirmation she began to make
herself a fresh cigarette, rolling it dexterously with
her white, delicate fingers, and not until her task was
accomplished and her full, red lips were sending
forth tiny clouds of smoke did she announce:
“Ramerrez was in Cloudy Mountain to-night."


174 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
But however much of a surprise this assertion was
to both men, neither gave vent to an exclamation.
Instead Rance regarded his elegantly booted feet;
Ashby looked hard at the woman as if he would read
the truth in her eyes; while as for Nina, she con-
tinued to puff away at her little cigarette after the
manner of one that has appealed not in vain to the
magic power which can paint out the past and fill the
blank with the most beautiful of dreams.
The Wells Fargo man was the first to make any
comment; he asked:
“You know this?" And then as she surveyed
them through a scented cloud and bowed her head,
he added: “How do you know it?”
“That I shall not tell you," replied the woman,
firmly.
Ashby made an impatient movement towards her
with the question:
“Where was he?".
“Oh, come, Ashby!” put in Rance, speaking for
the first time. “She's putting up a game on us."
In a flash Nina wheeled around and with eyes that
blazed advanced to the table where the Sheriff was
sitting. Indeed, there was something so tigerish
about the woman that the Sheriff, in alarm, quickly
pushed back his chair.
“I am not lying, Jack Rance." There was an
evil glitter in her eye as she watched a sarcastic smile


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 175
playing around his lips. “Oh, yes, I know you
— you are the Sheriff," and so saying a peal of
contemptuous merriment burst from her, "and
Ramerrez was in the camp not less than two hours
ago."
Ashby could hardly restrain his excitement.
“And you saw him ? " came from him.
“Yes," was her answer.
Both men sprang to their feet; it was impossible to
doubt any longer that she spoke the truth.
“What's his game?" demanded Rance.
The woman answered his question with a question.
“How about the reward, Señor Ashby?”
“You needn't worry about that — I'll see that
you get what's coming to you," replied the Wells
Fargo Agent already getting into his coat.
“But how are we to know?" inquired Rance, like-
wise getting ready to leave. “Is he an American or
a Mexican?"
“To-night he's an American, that is, he's dressed
and looks like one. But the reward — you swear
you're playing fair?"
“On my honour," Ashby assured her.
The woman's face stood clear — cruelly clear in
the light of the kerosene lamp above her head.
About her mouth and eyes there was a repellent ex-
pression. Her mind, still working vividly, was re-
viewing the past; and a bitter memory prompted the


176 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
words which were said however with a smile that
was still seductive:
“ Try to recall, Señor Ashby, what strangers were
in The Polka to-night?"
At these ominous words the men started and re-
garded each other questioningly. Their keen and
trained intelligences were greatly distressed at being
so utterly in the dark. For an instant, it is true, the
thought of the greaser that Ashby had brought in
rose uppermost in their minds, but only to be dis-
missed quickly when they recalled the woman's words
concerning the way that the road agent was dressed.
A moment more, however, and a strange thought
had fastened itself on one of their active minds — a
thought which, although persisting in forcing itself
upon the Sheriff's consideration, was in the end re-
jected as wholly improbable. But who was it then?
In his intensity Rance let his cigar go out.
“Ah!” at last he cried. “Johnson, by the
eternal!”
“ Johnson ? " echoed Ashby, wholly at sea and
surprised at the look of corroboration in Nina's eyes.
“Yes, Johnson," went on Rance, insistently.
Why had he not seen at once that it was Johnson
who was the road agent! There could be no mis-
take! “You weren't there," he explained hur-
riedly, “when he came in and began flirting with the
Girl and _"


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 177
vere
“ Ramerrez making love to the Girl?" broke in
Ashby. “Ye Gods ! ".
“The Girl? So that's the woman he's after
now!” Nina laughed bitterly. “Well, she's not
destined to have him for long, I can tell you!”
And with that she reached out for the bottle on the
table and poured herself a small glass of whisky and
swallowed it. When she turned her lips were
tightly shut over her brilliant teeth, a thousand
thoughts came rushing into her brain. There was
no longer any compunction — she would strike now
and deep. Through her efforts alone the man would
be captured, and she gloried in the thought.
“Here — here is something that will interest
you!” she said; and putting her hand in her bosom
drew out a soiled, faded photograph. “There —
that will settle him for good and all! Never again
will he boast of trilling with Nina Micheltoreña —
with me, a Micheltoreña in whose veins runs the
best and proudest blood of California !”
Ashby fairly snatched the photograph out of her
hand and, after one look at it, passed it over to the
Sheriff.
“Good of him, isn't it?" sneered Nina; and then
seemingly trying by her very vehemence to impress
upon herself the impossibility of his ever being any-
thing but an episode in her life, she added: “I
hate him!"


178 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
The picture was indeed an excellent one. It rep-
resented Ramerrez in the gorgeous dress of a cabal-
lero — and the outlaw was a fine specimen of that
spectacular class of men. But Rance studied the
photograph only long enough to be sure that no mis-
take was possible. With a quick movement he put
it away in his pocket and looked long and hard at the
figure of the degraded woman standing before him
and revelling in her treachery. In that time he for-
got that anyone had ever entertained a kind thought
about her; he forgot that she once was respected as
well as admired; he was conscious only of regarding
her with a far deeper disgust and repugnance than he
held towards others much her inferior in birth and
education. But, presently, his face grew a shade
whiter, if that were possible, and he cursed himself
for not having thought of the danger to which the
Girl might even now be exposed. In less than a
minute, therefore, both men stood ready for the work
before them. But on the threshold just before go-
ing out into the fierce storm that had burst during
the last few minutes, he paused and called back:
“You Mexican devil! If any harm comes to the
Girl, I'll strangle you with my own hands!” And
not waiting to hear the woman's mocking laughter he
passed out, followed by Ashby, into the storm.


Х
In the still black night and with no guide other than
the dimly-lighted lantern which she carried, the Girl
had started for home — a bit of shelter in the
middle of a great silence, a little fortress in the
wilderness, as it were, with its barred doors and
windows — on the top of Cloudy Mountain. To
be sure, it was not the first time that she had fol-
lowed the trail alone: Day and night, night and
day, for as long, almost, as she could remember, she
had been doing it; indeed, she had watched the
alders, oaks and dwarf pines, that bordered the trail,
grow year by year as she herself had grown, until
now the whispering of the mountain's night winds
spoke a language as familiar as her own; but never
before had she climbed up into the clean, wide, free
sweep of this unbounded horizon, the very air un-
tainted and limitless as the sky itself, with so keen
and uncloying a pleasure. But there was a new
significance attached to her home-coming to-night:
was she not to entertain there her first real visitor ?
At the threshold of her cabin the Girl, her cheeks
aglow and eyes as bright, almost, as the red cape
that enveloped her lithe, girlish figure, paused, and
swinging her lantern high above her head so that its
light was reflected in the room, she endeavoured to
SV
179


180 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
ere
imagine what would be the impression that a
stranger would receive coming suddenly upon these
surroundings.
And well might she have paused, for no eye ever
rested upon a more conglomerate ensemble! Yet,
withal, there was a certain attractiveness about this
log-built, low, square room, half-papered with gaudy
paper — the supply, evidently, having fallen short,
— that was as unexpected as it was unusual.
Upon the floor, which had a covering of corn
sacks, were many beautiful bear and wolf skins,
Indian rugs and Navajo blankets; while overhead
screening some old trunks and boxes neatly piled up
high in the loft, which was reached by a ladder,
generally swung out of the way — hung a faded,
woollen blanket; from the opposite corner there
fell an old, patchwork, silk quilt. Dainty white
curtains in all their crispness were at the windows,
and upon the walls were many rare and weird tro-
phies of the chase, not to mention the innumerable
pictures that had been taken from “Godey's Lady
Book" and other periodicals of that time. A little
book-shelf, that had been fashioned out of a box,
was filled with old and well-read books; while the
mantel that guarded the fireplace was ornamented
with various small articles, conspicuous among which
were a clock that beat loud, automatic time with a
brassy resonance, a china dog and cat of most gaudy
SS wer


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 181
colours, a whisky bottle and two tumblers, and some
winter berries in a jar.
There were two pieces of furniture in the room,
however, which were placed with an eye to attract
attention, and these the Girl prized most highly:
one was a homemade rocking-chair that had been
made out of a barrel and had been dyed, unsuccess-
fully, with indigo blue, and had across its back a
knitted tidy with a large, upstanding, satin bow; the
other was a homemade, pine wardrobe that had been
rudely decorated by one of the boys of the camp
and in which the Girl kept her dresses, and was piled
up high towards the ceiling with souvenirs of her
trip to Monterey, including the hat-boxes and wicker
basket that had come well nigh to loading down the
stage on that memorable journey.
But it was upon her bed and bedroom fixings
that the greatest attempt at decoration had been
made; partitioning off the room, as it were, and at
the same time forming a canopy about the bed, were
curtains of cheap, gaudy material, through the part-
ings of which there was to be had a glimpse of a
daintily-made-up bed, whose pillows were made con-
spicuous by the hand-made lace that trimmed their
slips, as was the bureau-cover, and upon which, in
charming disarray, were various articles generally
included in a woman's toilet, not to mention the
numberless strings of coloured beads and other bits


182 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
of feminine adornment. A table standing in the
centre of the room was covered with a small, white
cloth, while falling in folds from beneath this was
a faded, red cotton cover. The table was laid for
one, the charlotte “rusks " and "lemming " turn-
over — each on a separate plate — which Nick had
been commissioned to procure, earlier in the even-
ing, from the Palmetto restaurant, looming up prom-
inently in the centre; and on another plate were some
chipped beef and biscuits. A large lamp was sus-
pended from the ceiling in the centre of the room
and was quaintly, if not grotesquely, shaded; while
other lamps flanked by composition metal reflectors
concentrated light upon the Girl's bureau, the book-
shelf and mantel, leaving the remainder of the room
in variant shadow.
All in all, what with the fire that was burning
cheerily in the grate and the strong odour of steam-
ing coffee, the room had a soft glow and home.
like air that was most inviting.
In that brief moment that the Girl stood in the
doorway reviewing her possessions, a multitude of
expressions drifted across her countenance, a multi-
tude of possibilities thrilled within her bosom. But
however much she would have liked to analyse these
strange feelings, she resisted the inclination and gave
all her attention to the amusing scene that was being
enacted before her eyes. .
ema
m


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 183
For some time Billy Jackrabbit had been standing
by the table looking greedily down upon the char-
lotte russes there. He was on the point of putting
his finger through the centre of one of them when
Wowkle — the Indian woman-of-all-work of the
cabin, who sat upon the floor before the fire sing-
ing a lullaby to the papoose strapped to its cradle
on her back — turning suddenly her gaze in his
direction, was just in time to prevent him.
" Charlotte rusk — Palmetto rest'rant — not
take,” were her warning words.
Jackrabbit drew himself up quickly, but he was
furious at interference from a source where it was
wholly unexpected.
“Hm— me honest,” he growled fiercely, flash-
ing her a malignant look.
“Huh?" was Wowkle's monosyllabic observation
delivered in a guttural tone.
All of a sudden, Jackrabbit's gaze was arrested by
a piece of paper which lay upon the floor and in
which had been wrapped the charlotte russes; he went
over to it quickly, picked it up, opened it and pro
ceeded to collect on his finger the cream that had
adhered to it.
"Huh!” he growled delightedly, holding up his
finger for Wowkle's inspection. The next instant,
however, he slumped down beside her upon the floor,
where both the man and the woman sat in silence


184 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
gazing into the fire. The man was the first to
speak.
“ Send me up — Polka. Say, p'haps me marry
you — huh?” he said, coming to the point bluntly.
Wowkle's eyes were glued to the fire; she answered
dully:
“Me don't know."
There was a silence, and then:
“Me don't know," observed Jackrabbit thought-
fully. A moment later, however, he added: “Me
marry you — how much me get give fatha — huh?”
Wowkle raised her narrowing eyes to his and
told him with absolute indifference:
“Huh — me don't know."
Jackrabbit's face darkened. He pondered for a
long time.
“Me don't know — " suddenly he began and then
stopped. They had been silent for some moments,
when at last he ventured: “Me give fatha four
dolla ”— and here he indicated the number with his
two hands, the finger with the cream locking those
of the other hand —"and one blanket.”
Wowkle's eyes dilated.
“Better keep blanket - baby cold," was her
ambiguous answer.
Whereupon Jackrabbit emitted a low growl.
Presently he handed her his pipe, and while she


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 185
puffed steadily away he fondled caressingly the string
of beads which she wore around her neck.
“You sing for get those ?” he asked.
“Me sing,” she replied dully, beginning almost
instantly in soft, nasal tones:
“My days are as um grass”-
Te as un
Jackrabbit's face cleared.
“Huh!” he growled in rejoicement.
Immediately Wowkle edged up close to him and
together they continued in chorus:
“ Or as um faded flo'r,
Um wintry winds sweep o'er um plain,
We pe'ish in um ho'r."
“ But Gar," said the man when the song was
ended, at the same time taking his pipe away from
her, “to-morrow we go missionary — sing like hell
— get whisky."
But as Wowkle made no answer, once more a
silence fell upon them.
“We pe'ish in um ho'r," suddenly repeated Jack-
rabbit, half-singing, half-speaking the words, and
rising quickly started for the door. At the table,
however, he halted and inquired: “ All right
go missionary to-morrow – get marry — huh?”


186 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Wowkle hesitated, then rose, and finally started
slowly towards him. Half-way over she stopped
and reminded him in a most apathetic manner:
“P'haps me not stay marry to you for long."
“Huh — seven monse?” queried Jackrabbit in
the same tone.
“ Six monse,” came laconically from the woman.
In nowise disconcerted by her answer, the Indian
now asked:
“ You come soon?”.
Wowkle thought a moment; then suddenly edg-
ing up close to him she promised to come to him
after the Girl had had her supper.
"Huh!” fairly roared the Indian, his coal-black
eyes glowing as he looked at her.
It was at this juncture that the Girl, after hang-
ing up her lantern on a peg on the outer door, broke
in unexpectedly upon the strange pair of lovers.
Dumbfounded, the woman and the man stood gap-
ing at her. Wowkle was the first to regain her com-
posure, and bending over the table she turned up
the light.
“Hello, Billy Jackrabbit!" greeted the Girl,
breezily. “Fixed it?”
“Me fix,” he grunted.
“That's good! Now git!” ordered the Girl in
the same happy tone that had characterised her greet-
ing.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 187
Slowly, stealthily, Jackrabbit left the cabin, the
two women, though for different reasons, watching
him go until the door had closed behind him.
“Now, Wowkle," said the Girl, turning to her
with a smile, “it's for two to-night."
Wowkle's eyelashes twinkled up inquisitorially.
“Huh?"
“Yep.”
Wowkle's eyes narrowed to pin-points.
“Come anotha ? Never before come anotha,"
was her significant comment.
“Never you mind." The Girl voiced the repri-
mand without the twitching of an eyelid; and then
as she hung up her cape upon the wardrobe, she
added: “ Pick up the room, Wowkle!”
The big-hipped, full-bosomed woman did not move
but stood in all her stolidness gazing at her mistress
like one in a dream; whereupon the Girl, exasperated
beyond measure at the other's placidity, rushed over
to her and shook her so violently that she finally
awakened to the importance of her mistress' request.
“He's comin' now, now; he's comin'!" the Girl
was saying, when suddenly her eyes were attracted
to a pair of stockings hanging upon the wall; quickly
she released her hold on the woman and with a hop,
skip and a jump they were down and hid away in her
bureau drawer.
“My roses — what did you do with them,
om
ove


188 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Wowkle?” she asked a trifle impatiently as she
fumbled in the drawer.
“Ugh!” grunted Wowkle, and pointed to a cor-
ner of the bureau top.
“Good!” cried the Girl, delightedly, as she spied
them. The next instant she was busily engaged in
arranging them in her hair, pausing only to take a
pistol out of her pocket, which she laid on the edge
of the bureau. “No offence, Wowkle,” she went
on thoughtfully, a moment later, “but I want you to
put your best foot forward when you're waitin' on
table to-night. This here company o' mine's a man
o'idees. Oh, he knows everythin'! Sort of a
damme style.”
Wowkle gave no sign of having heard her mis-
tress' words, but kept right on tidying the room.
Now she went over to the cupboard and took down
two cups, which she placed on the fireplace base.
It was while she was in the act of laying down the
last one that the Girl broke in suddenly upon her
thoughts with:
“Say, Wowkle, did Billy Jackrabbit really pro-
pose to you?”
“Yep — get marry," spoke up Jackrabbit's
promised wife without looking up.
For some moments the Girl continued to fumble
among her possessions in the bureau drawer; at last
she brought forth an orange-coloured satin ribbon,


190 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
At last she had succeeded in getting into one
slipper and, rising, tried to stand in it; but it hurt
her so frightfully that she immediately sank down
upon the floor and proceeded to pat and rub and
coddle her foot to ease the pain. It was while she
was thus engaged that a knock came upon her cabin
door.
“Oh, Lord, here he is !” she cried, panic-
stricken, and began to drag herself hurriedly across
the room with the intention of concealing herself
behind the curtain at the foot of the bed; while
Wowkle, with unusual celerity, made for the fire-
place, where she stood with her back to the door,
gazing into the fire.
The Girl had only gotten half-way across the
room, however, when a voice assailed her ears.
“Miss, Miss, kin 1-” came in low, subdued
tones.
“What? The Sidney Duck?" she cried, turn-
ing and seeing his head poked through the window.
“Beg pardon, Miss; I know men ain't lowed up
here nohow," humbly apologised that individual;
“ but, but —”
Vexed and flustered, the Girl turned upon him
a trifle irritably with:
“Git! Git, I tell you!"
“But I'm in grite trouble, Miss," began The
Sidney Duck, tearfully. “The boys are back —


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 191
they missed that road agent Ramerrez and now
they're taking it out of me. If — if you'd only
speak a word for me, Miss."
“No-” began the Girl, and stopped. The
next instant she ordered Wowkle to shut the
window.
“Oh, don't be 'ard on me, Miss," whimpered the
man.
The Girl flashed him a scornful look.
“Now, look here, Sidney Duck, there's one kind
o' man I can't stand, an' that's a cheat an' a thief,
an' you're it,” said the Girl, laying great stress upon
her words. “You're no better'n that road agent
Ramerrez, an'"
“But, Miss —" interrupted the man.
“Miss nothin'!” snapped back the Girl, tugging
away at the slippers; in desperation once more she
ordered:
“Wowkle, close the winder! Close the winder!”
The Sidney Duck glowered at her. He had ex-
pected her intercession on his behalf and could not
understand this new attitude of hers toward him.
“Public 'ouse jide!” he retorted furiously, and
slammed the window.
“Ugh!” snarled Wowkle, resentfully, her eyes
full of fire.
Now at any other time, The Sidney Duck would
have been made to pay dearly for his words, but
ucu:


192 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
either the Girl did not hear him, or if she did she
was too engrossed to heed them; at any rate, the
remark passed unnoticed.
“I got it on!" presently exclaimed the Girl in
great joy. Nevertheless, it was not without several
ouches and moans that, finally, she stood upon her
feet. “Say, Wowkle, how do you think he'll like
'em? How do they look? They feel awful!" she
rattled on with a pained look on her face.
But whatever would have been the Indian woman's
observation on the subject of tight shoes in general
and those of her mistress in particular, she was not
permitted to make it, for the Girl, now hobbling over
towards the bureau, went on to announce with sudden
determination:
“Say, Wowkle, I'm a-goin' the whole hog!
Yes, I'm a-goin' the whole hog," she repeated a
moment later, as she drew forth various bits of finery
from a chest of drawers, with which she pro-
ceeded to adorn herself before the mirror. Tak-
ing out first a lace shawl of bold design, she drew
it over her shoulders with the grace and ease of one
who makes it an everyday affair rather than an
occasional undertaking; then she took from a sweet-
grass basket a vividly-embroidered handkerchief and
saturated it with cologne, impregnating the whole
room with its strong odour; finally she brought forth
a pair of long, white gloves and began to stretch


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 193
them on. “Does it look like an effort, Wowkle ? "
she asked, trying to get her hands into them.
“Ugh!" was the Indian woman's comment at
the very moment that a knock came upon the door.
“Two plates,” she added with a groan, and started
for the cupboard.
Meanwhile the Girl continued with her primping
and preening, her hands flying back and forth like an
automaton from her waist-line to her stockings.
Suddenly another knock, this time more vigorous,
more insistent, came upon the rough boards of the
cabin door, which, finally, was answered by the Girl
herself.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 195
saw that the Girl was not alone as he had expected
to find her.
“I beg your pardon; I did not see anyone when
I came in," he said in humble apology, his eyes the
while upon Wowkle who, having blown out the
candle and removed the lantern from the table to
the floor, was directing her footsteps towards the
cupboard, into which she presently disappeared,
closing the door behind her. “But seeing you stand-
ing there," went on Johnson in explanation, “and
looking into your lovely eyes, well, the temptation
to take you in my arms was so great that I, well,
I took —”
“You must be in the habit o' takin' things, Mr.
Johnson," broke in the Girl. “I seen you on the
road to Monterey, goin' an' comin', an' passed a few
words with you; I seen you once since, but that don't
give you no excuse to begin this sort o' game.” The
Girl's tone was one of reproach rather than of an-
noyance, and for the moment the young man was left
with a sense of having committed an indiscretion.
Silently, sheepishly, he moved away, while she quietly
went over to the fire.
“Besides, you might have prospected a bit first
anyway,” presently she went on, watching the tips
of her slender white fingers held out transparent
towards the fire.
Just at that moment a log dropped, turning up its
00 €


196 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
glowing underside. Wheeling round with a smile,
Johnson said:
“I see how wrong I was."
And then, seeing that the Girl made no move in
his direction, he asked, still smiling:
“May I take off my coat?".
The Girl remained silent, which silence he in-
terpreted as an assent, and went on to make himself
at home.
"Thank you,” he said simply. “What a bully
little place you have here! It's awfully snug!” he
continued delightedly, as his eyes wandered about the
room. “And to think that I've found you again
when I - Oh, the luck of it!".
He went over to her and held out his hands,
a broad, yet kindly smile lighting up his strong
features, making him appear handsomer, even,
than he really was, to the Girl taking in the
olive-coloured skin glowing with healthful pal-
lor.
“Friends ?” he asked.
Nevertheless the girl did not give him her hand,
but quickly drew it away; she answered his question
with a question:
“Are you sorry?”
“No, I'm not sorry."
To this she made no reply but quietly, disappoint-
edly returned to the fireplace, where she stood in


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 1977.
contemplative silence, waiting for his next words.
But he did not speak; he contented himself with
gazing at the tender girlishness of her, the blue-
black eyes, and flesh that was so bright and pure
that he knew it to be soft and firm, making him
yearn for her.
Involuntarily she turned towards him, and she
saw that in his face which caused her eyes to drop
and her breath to come more quickly.
“ That damme style just catches a woman!” she
ejaculated with a little tremour in her voice.
Then her mood underwent a sudden change in
marked contrast to that of the moment before.
“Look here, Mr. Johnson," she said, “ down at
the saloon to-night you said you always got what you
wanted. O'course I've got to admire you for that.
I reckon women always do admire men for gettin'
what they want. But if huggin' me's included, jest
count it out."
For a breathing space there was a dead silence.
“That was a lovely day, Girl, on the road to
Monterey, wasn't it?” of a sudden Johnson ob-
served dreamily.
The Girl's eyes opened upon him wonderingly.
“ Was it?"
“Well, wasn't it?"
The Girl thought it was and she laughed.
“Say, take a chair and set down for a while, won't


198 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
you?" was her next remark, she herself taking a
chair at the table.
“Thanks,” he said, coming slowly towards her
while his eyes wandered about the room for a chair.
“Say, look 'ere!" she shot out, scrutinising him
closely; “I ben thinkin' you didn't come to the
saloon to see me to-night. What brought you ?"
“ It was Fate," he told her, leaning over the table
and looking down upon her admiringly.
She pondered his answer for a moment, then
blurted out:
“You're a bluff! It may have been Fate, but
I tho't you looked kind o' funny when Rance asked
you if you hadn't missed the trail an' wa’n’t on the
road to see Nina Micheltoreña — she that lives in
the greaser settlement an' has the name o' shelterin'
thieves."
At the mention of thieves, Johnson paled fright-
fully and the knife which he had been toying with
dropped to the floor.
“Was it Fate or the back trail?" again queried
the Girl.
“It was Fate," calmly reiterated the man, and
looked her fairly in the eye.
The cloud disappeared from the Girl's face.
“ Serve the coffee, Wowkle!" she called almost
instantly. And then it was that she saw that no chair
had been placed at the table for him. She sprang


200
200 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
little pinto an' I'm all over the country on 'im.
Finest little horse you ever saw! If I want to I
can ride right down into the summer at the foothills
with miles o' Injun pinks jest a-laffin' an' tiger lilies
as mad as blazes. There's a river there, too — the
Injuns call it a water-road — an' I can git on that an'
drift an' drift an’smell the wild syringa on the banks.
An if I git tired o' that I can turn my horse up-grade
an' gallop right into the winter an' the lonely pines
an' firs a-whisperin' an'a-sighin. Lonely? Moun-
tains lonely, did you say? Oh, my mountains, my
beautiful peaks, my Sierras! God's in the air here,
sure! You can see Him layin' peaceful hands on
the mountain tops. He seems so near you want to
let your soul go right on up."
Johnson was touched at the depth of meaning in
her words; he nodded his head in appreciation.
"I see, when you die you won't have far to go,"
he quietly observed.
Minutes passed before either spoke. Then all at
once the Girl rose and took the chair facing his, the
table between them as at first.
“Wowkle, serve the coffee!” again she called.
Immediately, Wowkle emerged from the cup-
board, took the coffee-pot from the fire and filled the
cups that had been kept warm on the fireplace base,
and after placing a cup beside each plate she squatted
down before the fire in watchful silence.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 201
ome
“But when it's very cold up here, cold, and it
snows ? ” queried Johnson, his admiration for the
plucky, quaint little figure before him growing by
leaps and bounds.
“Oh, the boys come up an' digs me out o' my front
door like — like —” She paused, her sunny laugh
rippling out at the recollection of it all, and John-
son noted the two delightful dimples in her rounded
cheeks. Indeed, she had never appeared prettier to
him than when displaying her two rows of perfect,
dazzling teeth, which was the case every time that
she laughed.
"— like a little rabbit, eh?” he supplemented,
joining in the laugh.
She nodded eagerly.
“I get digged out near every day when the mine's
shet down an’ Academy opens," went on the Girl in
the same happy strain, her big blue eyes dancing
with merriment.
Johnson looked at her wonderingly; he questioned.
“ Academy? Here? Why, who teaches in your
Academy?”
“Me — I'm her — I'm teacher,” she told him
with not a little show of pride.
With difficulty Johnson suppressed a smile; never-
theless he observed soberly:
“Oh, so you're the teacher ?”.
“Yep - I learn m'self an' the boys at the same


202 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
time," she hastened to explain, and dropped a heap-
ing teaspoon of coarse brown sugar into his cup.
“But o' course Academy's suspended when ther's a
blizzard on 'cause no girl could git down the moun-
tain then."
“Is it so very severe here when there's a blizzard
on?” Johnson was saying, when there came to his
ears a strange sound — the sound of the wind rising
in the canyon below.
The Girl looked at him in blank astonishment -
a look that might easily have been interpreted as
saying, “Where do you hail from?” She answered:
"Is it ...? Oh, Lordy, they come in a
minute! All of a sudden you don't know where
you are — it's awful!”
“Not many women " digressed the man,
glancing apprehensively towards the door, but she
cut him short swiftly with the ejaculation:
“Bosh !” And picking up a plate she raised it
high in the air the better to show off its contents.
“ Charlotte rusks an' lemming turnover!” she an-
nounced, searching his face for some sign of joy, her
own face lighting up perceptibly.
“Well, this is a treat!” cried out Johnson between
sips of coffee.
“Have one?”
“You bet!” he returned with unmistakable
pleasure in his voice.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 203
The Girl served him with one of each, and when
he thanked her she beamed with happiness.
“Let me send you some little souvenir of to-night"
- he said, a little while later, his admiring eyes
settled on her hair of burnished gold which glistened
when the light fell upon it —“something that you'd
just love to read in your course of teaching at the
Academy." He paused to search his mind for some-
thing suitable to suggest to her; at length he ques-
tioned: “Now, what have you been reading
lately?”
The Girl's face broke into smiles as she answered:
“Oh, it's an awful funny book about a kepple.
He was a classic an' his name was Dent."
Johnson knitted his brows and thought a moment.
“He was a classic, you say, and his name was —
Oh, yes, I know — Dante,” he declared, with diffi-
culty controlling the laughter that well-nigh con-
vulsed him. “And you found Dante funny, did
you ? "
“Funny? I roared!" acknowledged the Girl
with a frankness that was so genuine that Johnson
could not help but admire her all the more. “You
see, he loved a lady —” resumed the Girl, toying .
idly with her spoon.
"— Beatrice," supplemented Johnson, pronounc-
ing the name with the Italian accent which, by the
way, was not lost on the Girl.


204 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
"How?” she asked quickly, with eyes wide open.
Johnson ignored the question. Anxious to hear
her interpretation of the story, he requested her to
continue.
“He loved a lady -" began the Girl, and broke
off short. And going over to the book-shelf she
took down a volume and began to finger the leaves
absently. Presently she came back, and fixing her
eyes upon him, she went on: “It made me think of
it, what you said down to the saloon to-night about
livin' so you didn't care what come after. Well, he
made up his min', this Dent — Dantes — that one
hour o' happiness with her was worth the whole
da—” She checked the word on her tongue, and
concluded: “outfit that come after. He was willin'
to sell out his chances for sixty minutes with 'er.
Well, I jest put the book down an' hollered.” And
once more she broke into a hearty laugh.
“Of course you did," agreed Johnson, joining in
the laugh. “All the same," he presently added,
“ you knew he was right.”
"I didn't!” she contradicted with spirit, and
slowly went back to the book-shelf with the book.
“You did.”
“ Didn't!"
“ You did.”
"Didn't! Didn't!"
“I don't"


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 205
u mea
son
no
“ You do, you do,” insisted the Girl, plumping
down into the chair which she had vacated at the
table.
“Do you mean to say —” Johnson got no
further, for the Girl, with a naïveté that made her
positively bewitching to the man before her, went
on as if there had been no interruption:
“That a feller could so wind h’ms'lf up as to
say, ' Jest give me one hour o'your sassiety; time ain't
nothin', nothin' ain't nothin' only to be a da—darn
fool over you!' Ain't it funny to feel like that?"
And then, before Johnson could frame an answer:
“Yet, I s'pose there are people that love into the
grave an' into death an' after." The Girl's voice
lowered, stopped. Then, looking straight ahead of
her, her eyes glistening, she broke out with:
“Golly, it jest lifts you right up by your bootstraps
to think of it, don't it?”.
Johnson was not smiling now, but sat gazing in-
tently at her through half-veiled lids.
“It does have that effect,” he answered, the
wonder of it all creeping into his voice.
“Yet, p'r'aps he was ahead o' the game.
P'r'aps —" She did not finish the sentence, but
broke out with fresh enthusiasm: “Oh, say, I jest
love this conversation with you! I love to hear you
talk! You give me idees ! ”
Johnson's heart was too full for utterance; he
Inswer


206 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
could only think of his own happiness. The next
instant the Girl called to Wowkle to bring the candle,
while she, still eager and animated, her eyes bright,
her lips curving in a smile, took up a cigar and
handed it to him, saying:
“ One o' your real Havanas!”
“But I”– began Johnson, protestingly.
Nevertheless the Girl lit a match for him from
the candle which Wowkle held up to her, and, while
the latter returned the candle to the mantel, Johnson
lighted his cigar from the burning match between
her fingers.
“Oh, Girl, how I'd love to know you!” he sud-
denly cried with the fire of love in his eyes.
“But you do know me," was her answer, as she
watched the smoke from his cigar curl upwards to-
ward the ceiling.
“Not well enough,” he sighed.
For a brief second only she was silent. Whether
she read his thoughts it would be difficult to say;
but there came a moment soon when she could not
mistake them.
“What's your drift, anyway?" she asked, look-
ing him full in the face.
“To know you as Dante knew the lady —'One
hour for me, one hour worth the world,'” he told her,
all the while watching and loving her beauty.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 207
At the thought she trembled a little, though she
answered with characteristic bluntness:
“He didn't git it, Mr. Johnson."
“ All the same there are women we could die
for," insisted Johnson, dreamily.
The Girl was in the act of carrying her cup to
her mouth 'but put it down on the table. Leaning
forward, she inquired somewhat sneeringly:
“Mr. Johnson, how many times have you died?"
Johnson did not have to think twice before an-
swering. With wide, truthful eyes he said:
"That day on the road to Monterey I said just
that one woman for me. I wanted to kiss you then,”
he added, taking her hand in his. And, strange to
say, she was not angry, not unwilling, but sweetly
tender and modest as she let it lay there.
“But, Mr. Johnson, some men think so much o'
kisses that they don't want a second kiss from the
same girl," spoke up the Girl after a moment's re-
flection.
“Doesn't that depend on whether they love her
or not? Now all loves are not alike," reasoned the
man in all truthfulness.
“No, but they all have the same aim — to git 'er
if they can," contended the Girl, gently withdraw-
ing her hand.
Silence filled the room.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 209
he stretched out his arms as if to gather her in
them.
“Look out, you'll muss my roses !" she cried,
waving him back and dodging Wowkle who, hav-
ing cleared the table, was now making her last trip
to the cupboard.
“Well, hadn't you better take them off then?”
suggested Johnson, still following her up.
“Give a man an inch an' he'll be at Sank Hosey
before you know it!” she flung at him over her
shoulder, and made straightway for the bureau.
But although Johnson desisted, he kept his eyes
upon her as she took the roses from her hair, los-
ing none of the picture that she made with the light
beating and playing upon her glimmering eyes, her
rosy cheeks and her parted lips.
"Is there — is there anyone else?” he inquired
falteringly, half-fearful lest there was.
“A man always says, 'who was the first one?'
but the girl says, 'who'll be the next one?!" she
returned, as she carefully laid the roses in her bureau
drawer.
“But the time comes when there never will be
a next one."
“No?"
"No."
“I'd hate to stake my pile on that," observed the
Girl, drily. She blew up each glove as it came off


212 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
next moment she went out, as did the red light in the
Girl's lantern hanging on a peg of the outer door.
“Oh, please, please," said the Girl, half-pro-
testingly, half-willingly.
But the man was no longer to be denied; he kept
on urging:
“ One kiss, only one."
Here was an appeal which could no longer be
resisted, and though half-frightened by the tone of
his voice and the look in his eye, the Girl let herself
be taken into his arms as she murmured:
“ 'Tain't no use, I lay down my hands to you."
And so it was that, unconscious of the great havoc
that was being wrought by the storm, unconscious
of the danger that momentarily threatened their lives,
they remained locked in each other's arms. The
Girl made no attempt to silence him now or with-
draw her hands from his. Why should she? Had
he not come to Cloudy Mountain to woo her?
Was she not awaiting his coming ? To her it
seemed but natural that the conventions should be
as nothing in the face of love. His voice, low and
musical, charged with passion, thrilled through her.
“I love you,” said the man, with a note of
possession that frightened her while it filled her with
strange, sweet joy. For months she had dreamed of
him and loved him; no wonder that she looked upon


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 213
him as her hero and yielded herself entirely to her
fate.
She lifted her eyes and he saw the love in them.
She freed her hands from his grasp, and then gave
them back to him in a little gesture of surrender.
“Yes, you're mine, an' I'm yours," she said with
trembling lips.
“I have lived but for this from the moment that
I first saw you,” he told her, softly.
“Me, too — seein' that I've prayed for it day
an' night,” she acknowledged, her eyes seeking his.
“Our destinies have brought us together; what-
ever happens now I am content,” he said, pressing
his lips once more to hers. A little while later he
added: “My darkest hour will be lightened by the
memory of you, to-night.”


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 215
sure o' anythin' only jest you,” she said coyly, bury-
ing her face in his neck.
“You may well be sure of me since I've loved —”
Johnson's sentence was cut short, a wave of remorse
sweeping over him. “Turn your head away, Girl,
and don't listen to me,” he went on, gently putting
her away from him. “ I'm not worthy of you.
Don't listen but just say no, no, no, no."
The Girl, puzzled, was even more so when John-
son began to pace the floor.
“Oh, I know — I ain't good enough for you!”
she cried with a little tremour in her voice. “But
I'll try hard, hard.. If you see anythin'
better in me, why don't you bring it out, 'cause I've
loved you ever since I saw you first, 'cause I knowed
that you — that you were the right man.”
“The right man,' repeated Johnson, dismally, for
his conscience was beginning to smite him hard.
“Don't laugh!”
“ I'm not laughing," as indeed he was not.
“O' course every girl kind o' looks ahead,” went
on the Girl in explanation.
“Yes, I suppose," he observed seriously.
" An' figgers about bein' — well, Oh, you know
— about bein' settled. An' when the right man
comes, why, she knows 'im, you bet! Jest as we
both knowed each other standin' on the road to


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 217
10.
and here their eyes came together and seemed un-
able to part,- I love you as I never thought I
could. ..."
But at Johnson's queer look she hastened to in-
quire:
“But it ain't for long you're goin'?"
For long! Then she had not understood that
he meant to go for all time. How tell her the
truth? While he pondered over the situation there
came to him with great suddenness the thought
that, perhaps, after all, Life never intended that she
should be given to him only to be taken away al-
most as suddenly; and seized with a desire to hold on
to her at any cost, he sprang forward as if to take
her in his arms, but before he reached her, he
stopped short.
“Such happiness is not for me," he muttered
under his breath; and then aloud he added: “No,
no, I've got to go now while I have the courage, I
mean.” He broke off as suddenly as he had be-
gun, and taking her face in his hands he kissed her
good-bye.
Now, accustomed as was the Girl to the strange
comings and goings of the men at the camp, it did
not occur to her to question him further when he
told her that he should have been away before now.
Moreover, she trusted and loved him. And so it
was without the slightest feeling of misgiving that


218 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
she watched her lover quickly take down his coat
and hat from the peg on the wall and start for the
door. On the other hand, it must have required
not a little courage on the man's part to have torn
himself away from this lovely, if unconventional,
creature, just as he was beginning to love truly and
appreciate her. But, then, Johnson was a man of
no mean determination!
Not daring to trust himself to words, Johnson
paused to look back over his shoulder at the Girl
before plunging forth into the night. But on open-
ing the door all the multitudinous wild noises of the
forests reached his ears: Sounds of whispering and
rocking storm-tossed pines, sounds of the wind mak-
ing the rounds of the deep canyon below them,
sounds that would have made the blood run cold of
a man more daring, even, than himself. Like one
petrified he stood blinded, almost, by the great drifts
of snow that were being driven into the room,
while the cabin rocked and shook and the roof
cracked and snapped, the lights flickered, smoked,
or sent their tongues of fire upward towards the ceil-
ing, the curtains swayed like pendants in the air,
and while baskets, boxes, and other small furnish-
ings of the cabin were blown in every direction.
But it was the Girl's quick presence of mind that
saved them from being buried, literally, under the
snow. In an instant she had rushed past him and


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 219
closed both the outer and inner doors of the cabin;
then, going over to the window, she tried to look
through the heavily frosted panes; but the falling
of the sleet and snow, striking the window like fine
shot, made it impossible for her to see more than a
few inches away.
“Why, it's the first time I knew that it —” She
cut her sentence short and ended with: “That's
the way we git it up here! Look! Look!"
Whereupon, Johnson went over to the window
and put his face close to hers on the frosted panes;
a great sea of white snow met his gaze!
“This means —” he said, turning away from the
window and meeting her glance —“ surely it doesn't
mean that I can't leave Cloudy to-night?"
“It means you can't get off the mountain to-
night,” calmly answered the Girl.
“Good Lord!” fell from the man's lips.
“You can't leave this room to-night," went on
the Girl, decidedly. “Why, you couldn't find your
way three feet from this door — you a stranger !
You don't know the trail anyway unless you can
see it."
“But I can't stay here?” incredulously.
“Why not? Why, that's all right! The
boys'll come up an' dig us out to-morrow or day
after. There's plenty o' wood an' you can have my
bed.” And with no more ado than that, the Girl


220 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
went over to the bed to remove the covers and make
it ready for his occupancy.
“I wouldn't think of taking that," protested the
man, stoutly, while his face clouded over.
The Girl felt a thrill at the note of regard in his
voice and hastened to explain:
“I never use it cold nights; I always roll up in
my rug in front of the fire." All of a sudden she
broke out into a merry little laugh. “Jest think of
it stormin' all this time an' we didn't know it!”.
But Johnson was not in a laughing mood. In-
deed, he looked very grave and serious when pres-
ently he said:
“But people coming up here and finding me
might —”
The Girl looked up at him in blank amazement.
“Might what?” And then, while she waited
for his answer, two shots in close succession rang
out in the night with great distinctness.
There was no mistaking the nearness of the
sound. Instantly scenting trouble and alert at the
possibility of danger, Johnson inquired:
“What's that? What's that?".
“Wait! Wait!" came back from the Girl, un-
consciously in the same tone, while she strained her
ears for other sounds. She did not have long to
wait, however, before other shots followed, the last


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 221
221
ones coming from further away, so it seemed, and
at greater intervals.
“They've got a road agent - it's the posse
p'r'aps they've got Ramerrez or one o' his band I"
suddenly declared the Girl, at the same time rushing
over to the window for some verification of her
words. But, as before, the wind was beating with
great force against the frosted panes, and only a
vast stretch of snow met her gaze. Turning away
from the window she now came towards him with:
“You see, whoever it is, they're snowed in — they
can't get away."
Johnson knitted his brows and muttered some-
thing under his breath which the Girl did not catch.
Again a shot was fired.
“Another thief crep' into camp," coldly observed
the Girl almost simultaneously with the report.
Johnson winced.
“Poor devil!” he muttered. “But of course,
as you say, he's only a thief."
In reply to which the Girl uttered words to the
effect that she was glad he had been caught.
“Well, you're right,” said Johnson, thoughtfully,
after a short silence; then determinedly and in short
jerky sentences, he went on: “I've been thinking that
I must go — tear myself away. I have very important
business at dawn — imperative business . , ."


222 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
The Girl, who now stood by the table folding up
the white cloth cover, watched him out of the corner
of her eye, take down his coat from the peg on the
wall.
“Ever sample one o' our mountain blizzards ? "
she asked as he slipped on his coat. “In five min-
utes you wouldn't know where you was. Your im-
portant business would land you at the bottom of
a canyon 'bout twenty feet from here."
Johnson cleared his throat as if to speak but said
nothing; whereupon the Girl continued:
“You say you believe in Fate. Well, Fate has
caught up with you — you got to stay here."
Johnson was strangely silent. He was wonder-
ing how his coming there to-night had really come
about. But he could find no solution to the prob-
lem unless it was in response to that perverse instinct
which prompts us all at times to do the very thing
which in our hearts we know to be wrong. The
Girl, meanwhile, after a final creasing of the neatly-
folded cover, started for the cupboard, stopping
on the way to pick up various articles which the wind
had strewn about the room. Flinging them quickly
into the cupboard she now went over to the window
and once more attempted to peer out into the night.
But as before, it was of no avail. With a shrug she
straightened the curtains at the windows and started
for the door. Her action seemed to quicken his de-


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 223
cision, for, presently, with a gesture of resignation,
he threw down his hat and coat on the table and said
as if speaking to himself:
“Well, it is Fate — my Fate that has always
made the thing I shouldn't do so easy.” And then,
turning to the Girl, he added: “ Come, Girl, as
you say, if I can't go, I can't. But I know as I stand
here that I'll never give you up."
The Girl looked puzzled.
“Why, what do you mean?”
“I mean," began Johnson, pacing the floor slowly.
Now he stopped by a chair and pointed as though
to the falling snow. “ Suppose we say that's an
omen — that the old trail is blotted out and there
is a fresh road. Would you take it with me a stran-
ger, who says: From this day I mean to be all you'd
have me. Would you take it with me far away
from here and forever?”
It did not take the Girl long to frame an answer.
Taking Johnson's hand she said with great feeling:
“Well, show me the girl that would want to go
to Heaven alone! I'll sell out the saloon — I'll go
anywhere with you, you bet!”.
Johnson bent low over her hand and kissed it.
The Girl's straightforward answer had filled his heart
to overflowing with joy.
“You know what that means, don't you?” a mo-
ment later he asked.


224 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Sudden joy leapt to her blue eyes.
“Oh, yes,” she told him with a world of under-
standing in her voice. There was a silence; then
she went on reminiscently: “ There's a little Span-
ish Mission church — I pass it 'most every day. I
can look in an' see the light burnin' before the Virgin
an' see the saints standin' round with glassy eyes an'
faded satin slippers. An' I often tho't what they'd
think if I was to walk right in to be made — well,
some man's wife. It makes your blood like pin-
points thinkin' about it. There's somethin' kind o
holy about love, ain't they?"
Johnson nodded. He had never regarded love
in that light before, much less known it. For many
moments he stood motionless, a new problem of
right and wrong throbbing in his bosom.
At last, it being settled that Johnson was to pass
the night in the Girl's cabin, she went over to the bed
and, once more, began to make it ready for his occu-
pancy. Meanwhile, Johnson, seated in the barrel
rocker before the fire, watched her with a new inter-
est. The Girl had not gone very far with her duties,
however, when she suddenly came over to him,
plumping herself down on the floor at his feet.
“Say, did you ever ask any other woman to marry
you ? " she asked as she leaned far back in his arms.
"No," was the man's truthful answer.
“Oh, how glad I am! Take me — ah, take me


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 225
I don't care where as long as it is with you!” cried
the Girl in an ecstasy of delight.
“So help me, God, I'm going to . . !"
promised Johnson, his voice strained, tense.
"You're worth something better than me, Girl,” he
added, a moment later, “but they say love works
miracles every hour, that it weakens the strong and
strengthens the weak. With all my soul I love you,
with all my soul I-" The man let his voice die
out, leaving his sentence unfinished. Suddenly he
called: “Why, Min-Minnie!”
“I wasn't really asleep," spoke up the Girl, blink-
ing sleepily. “ I'm jest so happy an' let down, that's
all.” The next moment, however, she was forced
to acknowledge that she was awfully sleepy and
would have to say good-night.
“ All right,” said Johnson, rising, and kissed her
good-night.
“That's your bed over there," she told him, point-
ing in the direction of the curtains.
“But hadn't you better take the bed and let me
sleep over here?"
“Not much!"
" You're sure you would be more comfortable by
the fire — sure, now?"
“Yes, you bet!"
And so it was that Johnson decided to pass the
night in the Girl's canopied bed while she herself,


226 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST.
rolled up in a blanket rug before the fire, slept on
the floor.
“This beats a bed any time,” remarked the Girl,
spreading out the rug smoothly; and then, reaching
up for the old patchwork, silk quilt that hung from
the loft, she added: “There's one thing — you
don't have to make it up in the mornin'.”
“You're splendid, Girl!” laughed Johnson.
Presently, he saw her quietly closet herself in the
cupboard, only to emerge a few minutes later dressed
for the night. Over her white cambric gown with
its coarse lace trimming showing at the throat, she
wore a red woollen blanket robe held in at the waist
by a heavy, twisted, red cord which, to the man who
got a glimpse of her as she crossed the room, made
her prettier, even, than she had seemed at any time
yet.
Quietly, now, the Girl began to put her house in
order. All the lights, save the quaintly-shaded lamp
that was suspended over the table, were extinguished;
that one, after many unsuccessful attempts, was
turned down so as to give the right minimum of light
which would not interfere with her lover's sleep.
Then she went over to the door to make sure that it
was bolted. Outside the wind howled and shrieked
and moaned; but inside the cabin it had never seemed
more cosey and secure and peaceful to her.
“Now you can talk to me from your bunk an'


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 227,
I'll talk to you from mine,” she said in a sleepy, lazy
voice.
Except for a prodigious yawn which came from
the Girl there was an ominous quiet hanging over the
place that chilled the man. Sudden sounds startled
him, and he found it impossible to make any prog-
ress with his preparations for the night. He was
about to make some remark, however, when to his
well-attuned ears there came the sound of approach-
ing footsteps. In an instant he was standing in the
parting made by the curtains, his face eager, ani-
mated, tense.
“What's that?” he whispered.
“That's snow slidin',” the Girl informed him
without the slightest trace of anxiety in her voice.
“God bless you, Girl," he murmured, and re-
treated back of the curtains. It was only an instant
before he was back again with: “Why, there is
something out there — sounded like people calling,"
he again whispered.
“That's only the wind," she said, adding as she
drew her robe tightly about her: “Gettin' cold,
ain't it?"
But, notwithstanding her assurances, Johnson did
not feel secure, and it was with many misgivings
that he now directed his footsteps towards the bed
behind the curtains.
“ Good-night!” he said uneasily.
assuranc


XIII
THERE was no mistaking then — no need to con-
trast her feeling of anxiety of a few moments ago
lest some other woman had preceded her in his af-
fections, with her indifference on former occasions
when her admirers had proved faithless, to make the
Girl realise that she was experiencing love and was
dominated by a passion for this man.
So that, with no reason whatever in her mind to
question the sincerity of Johnson's love for her, it
would seem as if nothing were wanting to make the
Girl perfectly, happy; that there could be no room
in her heart for any feeling other than elation.
And yet, curiously enough, the Girl could not doze
off to sleep. Some mysterious force — a vague
foreboding of something about to happen — im-
pelled her to open her eyes again and again.
It was an odd and wholly new sensation, this con-
juring up of distressing spectres, for no girl was
given less to that sort of thing; all the same, it was
with difficulty that she checked an impulse to cry out
to her lover — whom she believed to be asleep —
and make him dissipate, by renewed assurances, the
mysterious barrier which she felt was hemming her in.
As for Johnson, the moment that his head had
touched the pillows, he fell to thinking of the awk-
on-
229


230 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
ward situation in which he was placed, the many
complications in which his heart had involved him
and, finally, he found himself wondering whether
the woman whom he loved so dearly was also lying
sleepless in her rug on the floor.
And so it was not surprising that he should spring
up the moment that he heard cries from outside.
“Who's that knockin', I wonder ? "
Although her voice showed no signs of distress
or annoyance, the question coming from her in
a calm tone, the Girl was upon her feet almost be-
fore she knew it. In a trice she removed all evi-
dences that she had been lying upon the floor, fling-
ing the pillows and silk coverlet to the wardrobe
top.
In that same moment Johnson was standing in
the parting of the curtains, his hand raised warn-
ingly. In another moment he was over to the door
where, after taking his pistols from his overcoat
pockets, he stood in a cool, determined attitude, fin-
gering his weapons.
“But some one's ben callin',” the Girl was saying,
at the very moment when above the loud roaring of
the wind another knock was heard on the cabin door.
“Who can it be?" she asked as if to herself, and
calmly went over to the table, where she took up the
candle and lit it.
Springing to her side, Johnson whispered tensely:


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 231
"Don't answer — you can't let anyone in — they
wouldn't understand.”
The Girl eyed him quizzically.
“Understand what?” And before he had time
to explain, much less to check her, she was standing
at the window, candle in hand, peering out into the
night.
“Why, it's the posse !" she cried, wheeling round
suddenly. “How did they ever risk it in this
storm ? "
At these words a crushed expression appeared on
Johnson's countenance; an uncanny sense of insecurity
seized him. Once more the loud, insistent pound-
ing was repeated, and as before, the outlaw, his hands
on his guns, commanded her not to answer.
“But what on earth do the boys want? " inquired
the Girl, seemingly oblivious to what he was saying.
Indeed, so much so that as the voice of Nick rose
high above the other sounds of the night, calling,
“Min-Minnie-Girl, let us in!” she hurriedly brushed
past him and yelled through the door:
“What do you want?”.
Again Johnson's hand went up imperatively.
“Don't let him come in!” he whispered.
But even then she heard not his warning, but si-
lently, tremulously listened to Sonora, who shouted
through the door: "Say, Girl, you all right?”
And not until her answering voice had called back


234 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
the table and warmed his hands over the lighted can-
dle there. Meanwhile, Sonora, his nose, as well as
his hands which with difficulty he removed from his
heavy fur mittens, showing red and swollen from
the effects of the biting cold, had gone over to the
fire, where he ejaculated:
“Ouf, I'm cold! Glad you're safe, Girl! "
“Yes, Girl, The Polka's had a narrow squeak,”
observed Nick, stamping his feet which, as well as
his legs, were wrapped with pieces of blankets for
added warmth.
Unconsciously, at his words, the Girl's eyes trav-
elled to the bed; then, drawing her robe snugly about
her, and seating herself, she asked with suppressed
excitement :
“Why, Nick, what's the matter? What's —".
Rance took it upon himself to do the answering.
Sauntering over to the Girl, he drawled out:
" It takes you a long time to get up, seems to me.
You haven't so much on, either," he went on, pierc-
ing her with his eyes.
Smilingly and not in the least disconcerted by the
Sheriff's remark, the Girl picked up a rug from the
floor and wound it about her knees.
“Well? ” she interrogated.
“Well, we was sure that you was in trouble," put
in Sonora. “My breath jest stopped.”.
“Me? Me in trouble, Sonora ? " A little laugh


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 235
that was half-gay, half-derisive, accompanied her
words.
“See here, that man Ramerrez —” followed up
Rance with a grim look.
"— feller you was dancin' with," interposed So-
nora, but checked himself instantly lest he wound
the Girl's feelings.
Whereupon, Rance, with no such compunctions,
became the spokesman, a grimace of pleasure spread-
ing over his countenance as he thought of the un-
pleasant surprise he was about to impart. Stretching
out his stiffened fingers over the blaze, he said in his
most brutal tones:
“Your polkying friend is none other than Ra-
merrez."
The Girl's eyes opened wide, but they did not look
at the Sheriff. They looked straight before her.
"I warned you, girl," spoke up Ashby, “ that you
should bank with us oftener.”
The Girl gave no sign of having heard him. Her
slender figure seemed to have shrunken perceptibly
as she stared stupidly, uncomprehendingly, into space.
“We say that Johnson was —” repeated Rance,
impatiently.
"— what?" fell from the Girl's lips, her face pale
and set.
“Are you deaf?" demanded Rance; and then,
emphasising every word, he rasped out: “The fel-


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 237
Rance, triumphantly. “But the last seen of John-
son," he went on with a hasty movement towards
the Girl and eyeing her critically, “ he was heading
this way. You seen anything of him?"
The Girl struggled hard to appear composed.
"Heading this way?" she inquired, reddening.
“So Nick said,” declared Sonora, looking towards
that individual for proof of his words.
But Nick had caught the Girl's lightning glance
imposing silence upon him; in some embarrassment
he stammered out:
“That is, he was — Sid said he saw 'im take the
trail, too.”
“ But the trail ends here," pointed out Rance, at
the same time looking hard at the Girl. And if she
hasn't seen him, where was he going?”.
At this juncture Nick espied a cigar butt on the
floor; unseen by the others, he hurriedly picked it up
and threw it in the fire.
“One o' our dollar Havanas! Good Lord, he's
here!” he muttered to himself.
“Rance is right. Where was he goin'?” was the
question with which he was confronted by Sonora
when about to return to the others.
“Well, I tho't I seen him," evaded Nick with
considerable uneasiness. “I couldn't swear to it.
You see it was dark, an'— Moses but the Sidney
Duck's a liar!"


238 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
At length, Ashby decided that the man had in all
probability been showed under, ending confidently
with:
“Something scared him off and he lit out without
his horse.” Which remark brought temporary re-
lief to the Girl, for Nick, watching her, saw the col-
our return to her face.
Unconsciously, during this discussion, the Girl had
risen to her feet, but only to fall back in her chair
again almost as suddenly, a sign of nervousness which
did not escape the sharp eye of the Sheriff.
“How do you know the man's a road agent?”
'A shade almost of contempt was in the Girl's ques-
tion.
Sonora breathed on his badly nipped fingers be-
fore answering:
"Well, two greasers jest now were pretty positive
before they quit.”
Instantly the Girl's head went up in the air.
“Greasers !” she ejaculated scornfully, while her
eyes unfalteringly met Rance's steady gaze.
“But the woman knew him," was the Sheriff's vin-
dictive thrust.
The Girl started; her face went white.
“The woman — the woman d'you say?"
“Why, yes, it was a woman that first told them
that Ramerrez was in the camp to rob The Polka,”
Sonora informed her, though his tone showed plainly


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 239
his surprise at being compelled to repeat a thing
which, he wrongly believed, she already knew.
“We saw her at The Palmetto," leered Rance.
“And we missed the reward,” frowned Ashby; at
which Rance quickly turned upon the speaker with:
“But Ramerrez is trapped.”
There was a moment's startled pause in which the
Girl struggled with her passions; at last, she ven-
tured:
“Who's this woman?”.
The Sheriff laughed discordantly.
“Why, the woman of the back trail,” he sneered.
“Nina Micheltoreña! Then she does know 'im
- it's true — it goes through me!” unwittingly
burst from the Girl's lips.
The Sheriff, evidently, found the situation amus-
ing, for he laughed outright.
“He's the sort of a man who polkas with you first
and then cuts your throat," was his next stab.
The Girl turned upon him with eyes flashing and
retorted:
“Well, it's my throat, ain't it?”
“Well I'll be! ” The Sheriff's sentence was
left unfinished, for Nick, quickly pulling him to one
side, whispered:
“Say, Rance, the Girl's cut up because she vouched
for 'im. Don't rub it in."
Notwithstanding, Rance, to the Girl's query of


240 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“How did this Nina Micheltoreña know it? ” took
a keen delight in telling her:
“She's his girl.”
“His girl?” repeated the Girl, mechanically.
“Yes. She gave us his picture,” went on Rance;
and taking the photograph out of his pocket, he
added maliciously, “ with love written on the back
of it."
A glance at the photograph, which she fairly
snatched out of his hands, convinced the Girl of the
truthfulness of his assertion. With a movement of
pain she threw it upon the floor, crying out bitterly:
“Nina Micheltoreña! Nina Micheltoreña!"
Turning to Ashby with an abrupt change of manner
she said contritely: “ I'm sorry, Mr. Ashby, I
vouched for 'im."
The Wells Fargo Agent softened at the note in
the Girl's voice; he was about to utter some comfort-
ing words to her when suddenly she spoke again.
“I s'pose they had one o' them little lovers' quar-
rels an' that made 'er tell you, eh?” She laughed
a forced little laugh, though her heart was beating
strangely as she kept on: “He's the kind o' man
who sort o' polkas with every girl he meets.” And
at this she began to laugh almost hysterically.
Rance, who resented her apologising to anyone
but himself, stood scowling at her.


242 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Good-night, Nick!” the Girl closed the door upon
them. The last that she heard from them was the
muffled ejaculation:
“Oh, Lordy, we'll never git down to Cloudy to-
night!”
Now the Girl slid the bolts and stood with her
back against the door as if to take extra precautions
to bar out any intrusion, and with eyes that blazed
she yelled out:
“Come out o' that, now! Step out there, Mr.
Johnson!”
Slowly the road agent parted the curtains and
came forward in an attitude of dejection.
“You came here to rob me," at once began the
Girl, but her anger made it impossible for her to
continue.
“I didn't,” denied the road agent, quietly, his
countenance reflecting how deeply hurt he was by
her words.
“ You lie!” insisted the Girl, beside herself with
rage.
“I don't —”
“ You do!”
“I admit that every circumstance points to —".
“Stop! Don't you give me any more o' that
Webster Unabridged. You git to cases. If you
didn't come here to steal you came to The Polka to
rob it, didn't you?”


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 243
ar
Johnson, his eyes lowered, was forced to admit
that such were his intentions, adding swiftly:
"But when I knew about you —” He broke off
and took a step towards her.
“Wait! Wait! Wait where you are! Don't
you take a step further or I'll — " She made a
significant gesture towards her bosom, and then,
laughing harshly, went on denouncingly: “A road
agent! A road agent! Well, ain't it my luck!
Wouldn't anybody know to look at me that a gentle-
man wouldn't fall my way! A road agent! A
road agent!” And again she laughed bitterly be-
fore going on: “But now you can git — git, you
thief, you imposer on a decent woman! I ought to
have tol' 'em all, but I wa’n't goin' to be the joke o'
the world with you behind the curtains an' me
eatin' charlotte rusks an'lemming turnovers an
a-polkyin' with a road agent! But now you can git
— git, do you hear me?"
Johnson heard her to the end with bowed head;
and so scathing had been her denunciations of his
actions that the fact that pride alone kept her from
breaking down completely escaped his notice. With
his eyes still downcast he said in painful fragments :
“One word only — only a word and I'm not
going to say anything in defence of myself. For
it's all true — everything is true except that I would
· have stolen from you. I am called Ramerrez; I
1overs


244 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
have robbed; I am a road agent — an outlaw by
profession. Yes, I'm all that — and my father was
that before me. I was brought up, educated,
thrived on thieves' money, I suppose, but until six
months ago when my father died, I did not know
it. I lived much in Monterey — I lived there as a
gentleman. When we met that day I wasn't the
thing I am to-day. I only learned the truth when
my father died and left me with a rancho and a
band of thieves — nothing else — nothing for us
all, and I — but what's the good of going into it
— the circumstances. You wouldn't understand if
I did. I was my father's son; I have no excuse; I
guess, perhaps, it was in me — in the blood. Any-
how, I took to the road, and I didn't mind it
much after the first time. But I drew the line at
killing — I wouldn't have that. That's the man
that I am, the blackguard that I am. But —" here
he raised his eyes and said with a voice that was
charged with feeling —“ I swear to you that from the
moment I kissed you to-night I meant to change, I
meant to —"
“The devil you did!” broke from the Girl's lips,
but with a sound that was not unlike a sob.
“I did, believe me, I did," insisted the man. “I
meant to go straight and take you with me — but
only honestly — when I could honestly. I meant to
work for you. Why, every word you said to me


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 245
on.
to-night about being a thief cut into me like a knife.
Over and over again I have said to myself, she must
never know. And now — well, it's all over — I
have finished.”
“An' that's all?” questioned the Girl with
averted face.
“No — yes — what's the use . .?"
The Girl's anger blazed forth again.
“But there's jest one thing you've overlooked ex-
plainin', Mr. Johnson. It shows exactly what you
are. It wasn't so much your bein' a road agent
I got against you. It's this: " And here she
stamped her foot excitedly. “You kissed me — you
got my first kiss.”
Johnson hung his head.
“ You said,” kept on the Girl, hotly, “you'd ben
thinkin' o' me ever since you saw me at Monterey,
an' all the time you walked straight off an' ben
kissin' that other woman.” She shrugged her shoul-
der and laughed grimly. “You've got a girl," she
continued, growing more and more indignant.
“It's that I've got against you. It's my first kiss
I've got against you. It's that Nina Micheltoreña
that I can't forgive. So now you can git — git! "
And with these words she unbolted the door and con-
cluded tensely:
"If they kill you I don't care. Do you hear, I
don't care. . . ,
.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 247
sorely-wounded man, dragged him into the cabin and
placed him in a chair. Quick as lightning she was
back at the door bolting it.
With his eyes Johnson followed her action.
“Don't lock that door — I'm going out again —
out there. Don't bar that door," he commanded
feebly, struggling to his feet and attempting to walk
towards it; but he lurched forward and would have
fallen to the floor had she not caught him. Vainly
he strove to break away from her, all the time cry-
ing out: “Don't you see, don't you see, Girl —
open the door.” And then again with almost a
sob: “Do you think me a man to hide behind a
woman?" He would have collapsed except for the
strong arms that held him.
“I love you an' I'm goin' to save you,” the Girl
murmured while struggling with him. “You asked
me to go away with you; I will when you git out o'
this. If you can't save your own soul —”. She
stopped and quickly went over to the mantel where
she took down a bottle of whisky and a glass; but
in the act of pouring out a drink for him there came
a loud rap on the window, and quickly looking
round she saw Rance's piercing eyes peering into the
room. For an instant she paled, but then there
flashed through her mind the comforting thought that
the Sheriff could not possibly see Johnson from his
position. So, after giving the latter his drink, she
save


250 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST.
and bolted the door. “Do you think I'd want to
shield a man who tried to rob me?" she asked, fac-
ing him.
Ignoring the question, Rance removed the glove of
his weaponless hand and strode to the curtains that
enclosed the Girl's bed and parted them. When he
turned back he was met by a scornful look and the
words:
“So, you doubt me, do you? Well, go on —
search the place. But this ends your acquaintance
with The Polka. Don't you ever speak to me again.
We're through."
Suddenly there came a smothered groan from the
man in the loft; Rance wheeled round quickly and
brought up his gun, demanding:
“What's that? What's that? ”
Leaning against the bureau the Girl laughed out-
right and declared that the Sheriff was becoming as
nervous as an old woman. Her ridicule was not
without its effect, and, presently, Rance uncocked his
gun and replaced it in its holster. Advancing now
to the table where the Girl was standing, he took off
his cap and shook it before laying it down; then,
pointing to the door, his eyes never leaving the Girl's
face, he went on accusingly:
“I saw someone standing out there against the
snow. I fired. I could have sworn it was a man.”
The Girl winced. But as she stood watching:
nev


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 251
him calmly remove his coat and shake it with the air
of one determined to make himself at home, she
cried out tauntingly:
“Why do you stop? Why don't you go on —
finish your search — only don't ever speak to me
again.”
At that, Rance became conciliatory.
“Say, Min, I don't want to quarrel with you."
Turning her back on him the Girl moved over
to the bureau where she snapped out over her
shoulder:
“Go on with your search, then p'r’aps you'll leave
a lady to herself to go to bed.”
The Sheriff followed her up with the declaration:
“I'm plumb crazy about you, Min."
The Girl shrugged her shoulder.
“I could have sworn I saw —1— Oh, you know
it's just you for me — just you, and curse the man
you like better. I-I— even yet I can't get over
the queer look in your face when I told you who that
man really was.” He stopped and flung his over-
coat down on the floor, and fixing her with a look he
demanded: “You don't love him, do you ? "
Again the Girl sent over her shoulder a forced
little laugh.
“Who - me?"
The Sheriff's face brightened. Taking a few
steps nearer to her, he hazarded:


252 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“Say, Girl, was your answer final to-night about
marrying me?”
Without turning round the Girl answered coyly:
“I might think it over, Jack."
Instantly the man's passion was aroused. He
strode over to her, put his arms around her and
kissed her forcibly.
"I love you, I love you, Minnie!” he cried
passionately.
In the struggle that followed, the Girl's eyes fell
on the bottle on the mantel. With a cry she seized
it and raised it threateningly over her head. An-
other second, however, she sank down upon a chair
and began to sob, her face buried in her hands.
Rance regarded her coldly; at last he gave vent
to a mirthless laugh, the nasty laugh of a man whose
vanity is hurt.
“So, it's as bad as that,” he sneered. “I didn't
quite realise it. I'm much obliged to you. Good-
night.” He snatched up his coat, hesitated, then
repeated a little less angrily than before: “Good-
night!”
But the Girl, with her face still hidden, made no
answer. For a moment he watched the crouching
form, the quivering shoulders, then asked, with
sudden and unwonted gentleness:
“Can't you say good-night to me, Girl! "
Slowly the Girl rose to her feet and faced him,


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 253
aversion and pity struggling for mastery. Then, as
she noted the spot where he was now standing, his
great height bringing him so near to the low boards
of the loft where her lover was lying that it seemed
as though he must hear the wounded man's breath-
ing, all other feelings were swept away by over-
whelming fear. With the one thought that she
must get rid of him, — do anything, say anything, but
get rid of him quickly, she forced herself forward,
with extended hand, and said in a voice that held
out new promise:
“Good-night, Jack Rance, – good-night!”.
Rance seized the hand with an almost fierce glad-
ness in both his own, his keen glance hungrily striv-
ing to read her face. Then, suddenly, he released
her, drawing back his hand with a quick sharpness.
“Why, look at my hand! There's blood on it!”
he said.
And even as he spoke, under the yellow flare of
the lamp, the Girl saw a second drop of blood fall
at her feet. Like a flash, the terrible significance of
it came upon her. Only by self-violence could she .
keep her glance from rising, tell-tale, to the boards
above.
“Oh, I'm so sorry," she heard herself saying con-
tritely, all the time desperately groping to invent
a reason; at length, she added futilely: “I must
have scratched you."


254 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
V rain
Rance looked puzzled, staring at the spatter of
red as though hypnotised.
“No, there's no scratch there,” he contended,
wiping off the blood with his handkerchief.
“Oh, yes, there is,” insisted the Girl tremulously;
" that is, there will be in the mornin'. You'll see
in the mornin' that there'll be —” She stopped and
stared in frozen terror at the sinister face of the
Sheriff, who was coolly watching his handkerchief
turn from white to red under the slow rain of blood
from the loft above.
“Oho!” he emitted sardonically, stepping back
and pointing his gun towards the loft. “So, he's
up there!”
The Girl's fingers clutched his arm, dragging des-
perately.
“No, he isn't, Jack — no, he isn't!" she iterated
in blind, mechanical denial.
With an abrupt movement, Rance flung her
violently from him, made a grab at the suspended
ladder and lowered it into position; then, deaf to the
Girl's pleadings, harshly ordered Johnson to come
down, meanwhile covering the source of the blood-
drops with his gun.
“Oh, wait, wait a minute!” begged the Girl
helplessly. What would happen if he couldn't obey
the summons? He had spent himself in his climb
to safety. Perhaps he was unconscious, slowly bleed-



"Mr. Johnson, come down”





GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 255
zen a
ing to death! But even as she tortured herself with
fears, the boards above creaked as though a heavy
body was dragging itself slowly across them. John-
son was evidently doing his best to reach the top
of the ladder; but he did not move quickly enough
to suit the Sheriff.
“Come down, or I'll —"
“Oh, just a minute, Jack, just a minute!” broke
in the Girl frantically. “Don't shoot ! — Don't
you see he's tryin' to — ?"
“Come down here, Mr. Johnson!” reiterated the
Sheriff, with a face inhuman as a fiend.
The Girl clenched her hands, heedless of the nails
cutting into her palms: “Won't you wait a mo-
ment, — please, wait, Jack!”.
“Wait? What for?” the Sheriff flung at her
brutally, his finger twitching on the trigger.
The Girl's lips parted to answer, then closed again
dumbly,— for it was then that she saw the boots,
then the legs of the road agent slide uncertainly
through the open trap, fumble clumsily for the rungs
of the ladder, then slip and stumble as the weight of
the following body came upon them while the weak
fingers strained desperately for a hold. The whole
heart and soul and mind of the Girl seemed to be
reaching out impotently to give her lover strength, to
hurry him down fast enough to forestall a shot from
the Sheriff. It seemed hours until the road agent
I


256 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
reached the bottom of the ladder, then lurched with
unseeing eyes to a chair and, finally, fell forward
limply, with his arms and head resting on the table.
Still dumb with dread, the Girl watched Rance
slowly circle round the wounded man; it was not until
the Sheriff returned his pistol to its holster that she
breathed freely again.
“So, you dropped into The Polka to-night to play
a little game of poker? Funny how things change
about in an hour or two!” Rance chuckled mirth-
lessly; it seemed to suit his sardonic humour to taunt
his helpless rival. “You think you can play poker,
— that's your conviction, is it? Well, you can play
freeze-out as to your chances, Mr. Johnson of Sacra-
mento. Come, speak up,- it's shooting or the
tree, which shall it be?"
Goaded beyond endurance by Rance's taunting of
the unconscious man, the Girl, fumbling in her bosom
for her pistol, turned upon him in a sudden, cold
fury:
“You better stop that laughin', Jack Rance, or
I'll send you to finish it in some place where things
ain't so funny.”
Something in the Girl's altered tone so struck the
Sheriff that he obeyed her. He said nothing, but on
his lips were the words, “By Heaven, the Girl
means it!" and his eyes showed a smouldering ad-
miration.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 257
“He doesn't hear you,- he's out of it. But me
- me— I hear you — I ain't out of it," the Girl
went on in compelling tones. “You're a gambler;
he was, too; well, so am I.” She crossed deliberately
to the bureau, and laid her pistol away in the drawer,
Rance meanwhile eyeing her with puzzled interest.
Returning, she went on, incisively as a whip lash:
“I live on chance money, drink money, card money,
saloon money. We're gamblers,— we're all gam-
blers!” She paused, an odd expression coming over
her face,- an expression that baffled Rance's power
to read. Presently she resumed: “Now, you asked
me to-night if my answer was final, — well, here's
your chance. I'll play you the game,- straight
poker. It's two out o' three for me. Hatin' the
sight o' you, it's the nearest chance you'll ever get
for me."
“Do you mean —” began Rance, his hands rest-
ing on the table, his hawk-like glance burning into her
very thoughts.
“Yes, with a wife in Noo Orleans all right,"
she interrupted him feverishly. “If you're lucky,
— you'll git 'im an' me. But if you lose,— this
man settin' between us is mine — mine to do with
as I please, an' you shut up an' lose like a gentle-
man."
“ You must be crazy about him!” The words
seemed wrung from the Sheriff against his will.


258 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
nea
DIT
" "That's my business !" came like a knife-cut from
the Girl.
“Do you know you're talkin' to the Sheriff?"
“I'm talkin' to Jack Rance, the gambler," she
amended evenly.
“You're right,— and he's just fool enough to
take you up," returned Rance with sudden decision.
He looked around him for a chair; there was one •
near the table, and the Girl handed it to him. With
one hand he swung it into place before the table,
while with the other he jerked off the table-cover,
and flung it across the room. Johnson neither
moved nor groaned, as the edge slid from beneath
his nerveless arms.
“You and the cyards have got into my blood.
I'll take you up,” he said, seating himself.
“Your word,” demanded the Girl, leaning over
the table, but still standing.
"I can lose like a gentleman," returned Rance
curtly; then, with a swift seizure of her hand, he
continued tensely, in tones that made the Girl shrink
and whiten, “ I'm hungry for you, Min, and if I
win, I'll take it out on you as long as I have
breath."
A moment later, the Girl had freed her hand from
his clasp, and was saying evenly, “Fix the lamp.”
And while the Sheriff was adjusting the wick that
had begun to flare up smokily, she swiftly left the


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 259
room, saying casually over her shoulder that she was
going to fetch something from the closet.
“What you goin' to get?" he called after her
suspiciously. The Girl made no reply. Rance
made no movement to follow her, but instead drew a
pack of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle
them with practiced carelessness. But when a minute
had passed and the girl had not returned, he called
once more, with growing impatience, to know what
was keeping her.
"I'm jest gettin' the cards an' kind o steadyin'
my nerves," she answered somewhat queerly through
the doorway. The next moment she had returned,
quickly closing the closet door behind her, blew out
her candle, and laying a pack of cards upon the
table, said significantly:
“We'll use a fresh deck. There's a good deal
depends on this, Jack.” She seated herself opposite
the Sheriff and so close to the unconscious form of
the man she loved that from time to time her left
arm brushed his shoulder.
Rance, without protest other than a shrug, took
up his own deck of cards, wrapped them in a hand-
kerchief, and stowed them away in his pocket. It
was the Girl who spoke first:
“ Are you ready?”
“Ready? Yes. I'm ready. Cut for deal.”
With unfaltering fingers, the Girl cut. Of the


260 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
man beside her, dead or dying, she must not, dared
not think. For the moment she had become one
incarnate purpose: to win, to win at any cost,— noth-
ing else mattered.
Rance won the deal; and taking up the pack he
asked, as he shuffled:
“A case of show-down?"
“Show-down."
“ Cut!” once more peremptorily from Rance; and
then, when she had cut, one question more: “ Best
two out of three?"
“Best two out of three.” Swift, staccato sen-
tences, like the rapid crossing of swords, the first
preliminary interchange of strokes before the true
duel begins.
Rance dealt the cards. Before either looked at
them, he glanced across at the Girl and asked scorn-
fully, perhaps enviously:
“What do you see in him ? "
“What do you see in me?" she flashed back in-
stantly, as she picked up her cards; and then:
“What have you got?”
“King high,” declared the gambler.
“King high here," echoed the Girl.
“ Jack next," and he showed his hand.
“Queen next," and the Girl showed hers.
“You've got it," conceded the gambler, easily.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 261
Then, in another tone, " but you're making a mis-
take -"
“If I am, it's my mistake! Cut!”
Rance cut the cards. The Girl dealt them
steadily. Then,
“What have you got?” she asked.
“One pair,- aces. What have you?"
“Nothing," throwing her cards upon the table.
With just a flicker of a smile, the Sheriff once more
gathered up the pack, saying smoothly:
“Even now, we're even."
“It's the next hand that tells, Jack, ain't it?”
" Yes."
“ It's the next hand that tells me, I'm awfully
sorry," the words seemed to come awkwardly; her
glance was troubled, almost contrite," at any rate,
I want to say jest now that no matter how it comes
out —”
“ Cut!" interjected Rance mechanically.
" that I'll always think of you the best I can,"
completed the Girl with much feeling. “An' I want
you to do the same for me."
Silently, inscrutably, the gambler dealt the ten
cards, one by one. But as the Girl started to draw
hers toward her, his long, thin fingers reached across
once more and closed not ungently upon hand and
cards.
>


262 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST.
“The last hand, Girl!” he reminded her. “ And
I've a feeling that I win, that in one minute I'll
hold you in my arms." And still covering her
fingers with his own, he stole a glance at his cards.
“I win,” he announced, briefly, his eyes alone be-
traying the inward fever. He dropped the cards be-
fore her on the table. “Three kings, and the
last hand!”
Suddenly, as though some inward cord had snapped
under the strain, the Girl collapsed. Limply she
slid downward in her chair, one groping hand stray-
ing aimlessly to her forehead, then dropping of its
own weight. “Quick, Jack,— I'm ill, — git me
somethin'!” The voice trailed off to nothingness
as the drooping eyelids closed.
In real consternation, the Sheriff sprang to his feet.
In one sweeping glance his alert eye caught the
whisky bottle upon the mantel. “All right, Girl,
I'll fix you in no time,” he said cheeringly over his
shoulder. But where the deuce did she keep her
tumblers ? The next minute he was groping for them
in the dark of the adjoining closet and softly curs-
ing himself for his own slowness.
Instantaneously, the Girl came to life. The un-
turned cards upon the table vanished with one light-
ning movement; the Girl's hand disappeared beneath
her skirts, raised for the moment knee-high; then
the same, swift reverse motion, and the cards were


266 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
course, but being strong of arm, as well as stout of
heart, she at last accomplished it.
Now she cut away his shirt in order to find the
wound, which proved to be in his breast. Quickly
then she felt with her fingers in an endeavour to find
the ball, but in this she was unsuccessful. So after
a moment's deliberation she made up her mind that
the wound was a flesh one and that the ball was any-
where but in the man's body — a diagnosis that was
largely due to the cheerful optimism of her nature
and which, fortunately, proved to be true.
Presently she went to a corner of the room and
soon returned with a basin of water and some hastily
torn bandages. For a good fifteen minutes after
that she washed the gash and, finally, bandaged it
as well as she knew how. And now, having done
all that her knowledge or instinct prompted, she
drew up a chair and prepared to pass the rest of
the night in watching by his side.
For an hour or so he slept the sleep of unconscious-
ness. In the room not a sound could be heard, but
outside the storm still roared and raged. It was any-
thing but an easy or cheerful situation: Here she
was alone with a wounded, if not dying, man; and
she well knew that, unless there came an abatement
in the fury of the storm, it might be days before any-
one could climb the mountain. True, the Indians
were not far off, but like as not they would remain


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 267
in their wigwam until the sun came forth again. In
the matter of food there was a scant supply, but
probably enough to tide them over until communi-
cation could be had with The Polka.
For three days she watched over him, and all the
time the storm continued. On the third day he
became delirious, and that was the night of her tor-
ture. Despite a feeling that she was taking an un-
fair advantage of him, the Girl strained her ears
to catch a name which, in his delirium, was con-
stantly on his lips;. but she could not make it out.
All that she knew was that it was not her name that
he spoke, and it pained her. She had given him
absolute faith and trust and, already, she was over-
whelmed with the fierce flames of jealousy. It was
a new sensation, this being jealous of anyone, and
it called forth a passionate resentment. In such mo-
ments she would rise and flee to the other end of the
room until the whispered endearments had ceased.
Then she would draw near again with flushes of shame
on her cheeks for having heeded the sayings of an
irresponsible person, and she would take his head
in her lap and, caressing him the while, would put
cold towels on his heated brow.
Dawn of the fourth day saw the Girl still pale
and anxious, though despair had entirely left her;
for the storm was over and colour and speech had
come back to the man early that morning. Love


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 273
that Nick would not do for her; and as for the In-
dians, the secret was sure to be kept by them, un-
less Jackrabbit got hold of some whisky — a con-
tingency not at all likely, for Nick had promised to
see to that. In fact, all could be trusted to be as
silent as the grave.
The invalid had listened intently; nevertheless, he
sighed:
" It's hard to lie here. I don't want to be caught
now."
The Girl smiled at the emphasis on the last word,
for she knew that it referred to her. Furthermore,
she had diyined pretty well what had been his
thoughts concerning his old life; but, being essen-
tially a woman of action and not words, she said noth-
ing.
A moment or so later he asked her to read to him.
The Girl looked as she might have looked if he had
asked her to go to the moon. Notwithstanding, she
got up and, presently, returned with a lot of old
school-books, which she solemnly handed over for his
inspection.
The invalid smiled at the look of earnestness on
the Girl's face.
“Not these?” he gently inquired. “Where is
the Dante you were telling me about?"
Once more the Girl went over to the book-shelf;
when she came back she handed him a volume,
came
m
a


274 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
e
which he glanced over carefully before showing her
the place where he wished her to begin to read to him.
At first the Girl was embarrassed and stumbled
badly. But on seeing that he seemed not to notice
it she gained courage and acquitted herself cred-
itably, at least, so she lattered herself, for she could
detect, as she looked up from time to time, no ex-
pression other than pleasure on his face. It may
be surmised, though, that Johnson had not merely
chosen a page at random; on the contrary, when the
book was in his hand he had quickly found the lines
which the Girl had, so to say, paraphrased, and he
was intensely curious to see how they would appeal to
her. But now, apparently, she saw nothing in the
least amusing in them, nor in other passages fully as
sentimental. In fact, no comment of any kind was
forthcoming from her — though Johnson was look-
ing for it and, to tell the truth, was somewhat dis-
appointed — when she read that Dante had prob-
ably never spoken more than twice to Beatrice and
his passion had no other food than the mists of his
own dreaming. However, it was different when,-
pausing before each word after the manner of a
child, — she came to a passage of the poet's, and
read:
“'In that moment I say most truly that the spirit
of life, which hath its dwelling in the most secret
chambers of the heart, began to tremble so violently


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 275.
that the least pulse of my body shook herewith, and
in the trembling it said these words: “Here is a
deity stronger than I who, coming shall rule over
ܙܙ ܙ ܙ.me
Ta
At that the Girl let the book fall and, going down
on her knees and taking both his hands in hers, she
raised to him a look so full of adoring worship that
he felt himself awed before it.
"That 'ere Dante ain't so far off after all. I
know jest how he feels. Oh, I ain't fit to read to
you, to talk to you, to kiss you."
Nevertheless, he saw to it that she did.
After this he told her about the Inferno, and she
listened eagerly to his description of the unfor-
tunate characters, though she declared, when he ex-
plained some of the crimes that they had committed,
that they “Got only what was rightly comin' to
them."
The patient could hardly suppress his amusement.
Dante was discarded and instead they told each other
how much love there was in that little cabin on
Cloudy Mountain.
The days that followed were all much like this
one. Food was brought up from The Polka and, by
degrees, the patient's strength came back. And it
was but natural that he became so absorbed in his
newly-found happiness that he gradually was losing
all sense of danger. Late one night, however, when


278 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
all
"I tella you something — you lika the Maestro?”
Unconsciously the Girl nodded, which evidently
satisfied the Mexican, for he went on:
“You thinka well of him — yees. Now I tella
you something. The man Pedro 'e no good. 'E
wisha the reward — the money for Ramerrez. 'E
and the woman — woman no good — tell Meester
Ashby they thinka 'im 'ere."
The Girl felt the colour leave her cheeks, though
she made a gesture for him to proceed.
“Pedro not 'ere any longer," smiled the Mexi-
can. “Me senda 'im to the devil. Serva 'im
right.”
“ An' the woman?” gasped the Girl.
“She gone - got away — Monterey by this
time,” replied Castro with evident disappointment.
“But Meester Ashby 'e know too much — 'ees men
everywhere searched the camp — no safa 'ere now.
To-norrow -—" Castro stopped short; the next in-
stant with a joyful gleam in his eyes he cried out:
“Maestro!”
"Castro's right, Girl,” said Johnson, who had
waked and heard the Mexican's last words; “it is
not safe a moment more here, and I must go."
With a little cry of loving protest the Girl ab-
ruptly left the men to talk over the situation and
sought the opposite side of the room. There, her
eyes half-closed and her lips pressed tightly together


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 279
as
she gave herself up to her distressing fears. After
a while it was made plain to her that she was being
brought into the conversation, for every now and
then Castro would look curiously at her; at length,
as if it had been determined by them that nothing
should be undertaken without her advice, Johnson,
followed by his subordinate, came over to her and
related in detail all the startling information that
Castro had brought.
Quietly the Girl listened and, in the end, it was
agreed between them that it would be safer for the
men not to leave the cabin together, but that Castro
should go at once with the understanding that he
should procure horses and wait for the master at a
given point across the ravine. It was decided, too,
that there was not a moment to be lost in putting
their plan into execution. In consequence, Castro
immediately took his departure.
The hour that passed before the time set for
Johnson to leave the cabin was a most trying one for
both of them. It was not so hard on the man, of
course, for he was excited over the prospect of es-
caping; but the Girl, whose mind was filled with the
dread of what might happen to him, had nothing to
sustain her. Despite his objection, she had stipu-
lated that, with Jackrabbit as a companion, she should
accompany him to the outskirts of the camp. And
so, at the moment of departure, throwing about her


280 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
mar
a cloak of some rough material, she went up to her
lover and said with a quiver in her voice:
“I'm ready, Dick, but I'm a-figurin' that I can't
let you go alone — you jest got to take me below
with you, an' that's all there is to it.”
The man shook his head.
“ There's very little risk, believe me. I'll join
Castro and ride all through the night. I'll be down
below in no time at all. But we must be going,
dear."
The man passed through the door first. But
when it came the Girl's turn she hesitated, for she
had seen a dark shadow flit by the window. It was
as if someone had been stealthily watching there.
In another moment, however, it turned out to be
Jackrabbit and, greatly relieved, the Girl whispered
to Johnson that he was to descend the trail between
the Indian and herself, and that on no account was
he to utter a word until she gave him permission.
For another moment or so they stood in silence;
Johnson, appreciating fully what were the Girl's
feelings, did not dare to whisper even a word of
encouragement to her. At last, she ordered the
Indian to lead the way, and they started.
The trail curved and twisted around the moun-
tain, and in places they had to use the greatest care
lest a misstep should carry them over a precipice
with a drop of hundreds of feet. It was a perilous


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 281
descent, inasmuch as the path was covered with
snow. Moreover, it was necessary that as little
noise as possible should be made while they were mak.
ing their way past the buildings of the camp below,
for the Mexican had not been wrong when he stated
that Ashby's men were quartered at, or in the imme-
diate vicinity of, The Palmetto. Fortunately, they
passed through without meeting anyone, and before
long they came to the edge of the plateau beneath
which was the ravine which Johnson had to cross
to reach the spot where it had been agreed that Castro
should be waiting with horses for his master. It
was also the place where the Girl was to leave her
lover to go on alone, and so they halted. A few
moments passed without either of them speaking;
at length, the man said in as cheery a voice as he
could summon:
“I must leave you here. I remember the way
well. All danger is past.”
The Girl's lips were quivering; she asked:
“ An' when will you be back?"
The man noted her emotion, and though he him-
self was conscious of a choking sensation he con-
trived to say in a most optimistic tone:
“In two weeks — not more than two weeks. It
will take all that time to arrange things at the rancho.
As it is, I hardly see my way clear to dismissing my
men — you see, they belong to me, almost, and —


282 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
but I'll do so, never fear. No power on earth could
make me take up the old life again.”
The Girl said nothing in reply; instead she put
both her arms around his neck and remained a long
time in his embrace. At last, summoning up all her
fortitude she put him resolutely from her, and whis-
pered:
“When you are ready, come. You must leave me
now.” And with a curt command to the Indian she
fled back into the darkness.
For an instant the road agent's eyes followed the
direction that she had taken; then, his spirits rising
at the thought that his escape was now well-nigh
assured, he turned and plunged down the ravine.


XV.
As has been said, it was a custom of the miners,
whenever a storm made it impossible for them to
work in the mines, to turn the dance-hall of the
Polka Saloon into an Academy, the post of teacher
being filled by the Girl. It happened, therefore,
that early the following morning the men of Cloudy
Mountain Camp assembled in the low, narrow room
with its walls of boards nailed across inside upright
beams — a typical miners' dance-hall of the late For-
ties — which they had transformed into a veritable
bower, so eager were they to please their lovely
teacher. Everyone was in high spirits, Rance
alone refraining from taking any part whatsoever in
the morning's activities; dejectedly, sullenly, he sat
tilted back in an old, weather-beaten, lumber chair
before the heavily-dented, sheet-iron stove in a far
corner of the room, gazing abstractedly up towards
the stove's rusty pipe that ran directly through the
ceiling; and what with his pale, waxen countenance,
his eyes red and half-closed for the want of sleep,
his hair ruffled, his necktie awry, his waistcoat un-
fastened, his boots unpolished, and the burnt-out
cigar which he held between his white, emaciated
fingers, he was not the immaculate-looking Rance
of old, but presented a very sad spectacle indeed.
283


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 285
stretched and pointing to the next room. It said:
" To The Bar."
It was, however, upon the teacher's desk — a whit-
tled-up, hand-made affair which stood upon a slight-
ly-raised platform — that the boys had outdone
themselves in the matter of decoration. Garlanded
both on top and around the sides with pine boughs
and upon the centre of which stood a tall glass filled
with red and white berries, it looked not unlike a
sacrificial altar which, in a way, it certainly was. A
box that was intended for a seat for the teacher was
also decorated with pine branches; while several
cheap, print flags adorned the primitive iron holder
of the large lamp suspended from the ceiling in the
centre of the room. Altogether it was a most fes-
tive-looking Academy that was destined to meet the
teacher's eye on this particular morning.
For some time Nick had been standing near the
window gazing in the direction of the Girl's cabin.
Turning, suddenly, to Rance, the only other occupant
of the room, he remarked somewhat sadly:
“I'd be willin' to lose the profits of the bar if we
could git back to a week ago — before Johnson
walked into this room."
At the mention of the road agent's name Rance's
eyes dropped to the floor. It required no flash of
inspiration to tell him that things would never be
what they had been.
lan


286 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“ Johnson," he muttered, his face ashen white and
a sound in his throat that was something like a groan.
“A week — a week in her cabin — nursed and
kissed . . .” he finished shortly.
Nick had been helping himself to a drink; he
wheeled swiftly round, confronting him.
“Oh, say, Rance, she —".
Rance took the words out of his mouth.
“Never kissed him! You bet she kissed him!
It was all I could do to keep from telling the whole
camp he was up there." His eyes blazed and his
hands tightened convulsively.
"But you didn't ...” Nick broke in on him
quickly. “If I hadn't been let into the game by
the Girl I'd a thought you were a level Sheriff lookin'
for him. Rance, you're my ideal of a perfect
gent.”
Rance braced up in his chair.
“What did she see in that Sacramento shrimp,
will you tell me?" presently he questioned, con-
tempt showing on every line of his face.
The little barkeeper did not answer at once, but
filled a glass with whisky which he handed to him.
"Well, you see, I figger it out this way, boss,"
at last he answered, meeting him face to face frankly,
earnestly, his foot the while resting on the other's
chair. “Love's like a drink that gits a hold on you
an' you can't quit. It's a turn of the head or a


288 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“Left Cloudy at three o'clock this morning -
five hours off ...” was his brief comment.
Once more a silence fell upon the room. Then,
all of a sudden, the sound of horses' hoofs and the
murmur of rough voices came to their ears,
and almost instantly a voice was heard to cry out:
“Hello!"
“Hello!" came from an answering voice.
“Why, it's The Pony Express got through at
last!” announced Nick, incredulously; and so saying
he took up the whisky bottle and glasses which lay
on the teacher's desk and dashed into the saloon.
He had barely left, however, than The Pony Express,
muffled up to his ears and looking fit to brave the
fiercest of storms, entered the room, hailing the boys
with:
“Hello, boys! Letter for Ashby!”
The Deputy — who with Trinidad and Sonora
had come running in, the latter carrying a boot-leg
and a stove-polishing brush in his hand — took the
letter and started in search of the Wells Fargo
Agent who, Rance had told them, had gone to sleep.
“Well, boys, how d’you like bein' snowed in for
a week?” asked The Pony Express, warming himself
by the stove; and then without waiting for an an-
swer he rattled on: “ There's a rumour at The
Ridge that you all let Ramerrez freeze an' missed
a hangin'. Say, they're roarin' at you, chaps !"


290 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Taugh.
“He's a wearin' mournin' because Johnson didn't
fall alive into his hands,” interposed Trinidad with
a laugh.
“Is that it?" queried Sonora.
"Ain't it enough, Rance, that he must be lyin'
dead down some canyon, with his mouth full of
snow?” A mocking smile was on Trinidad's face
as he asked the question.
"You done all you could to git 'im,” went on So
nora as if there had been no interruption. “The
boys is all satisfied he's dead.”
“Dead?” Rance fairly picked up the word.
“Dead? Yes, he's dead,” he declared tensely, and
unconsciously arose and went over to the window
where he stood motionless, gazing through the parted
curtains at the snow-covered hills. Presently the
boys saw a cynical smile spread over his face, and a
moment later, he added: “The matter with me is
that I'm a Chink.”
This depreciation of himself was so thoroughly
un-Rance like, that it brought forth great bursts of
laughter from the men, but notwithstanding which,
Rance went on to admit, in the same sullen tone, that
it was all up with him and the Girl.
“Throwed 'im!” whispered Trinidad to Sonora
with a pleased look on his face.
Sonora, likewise, was beaming with joy when al-
most instantly he turned to Nick with:
ds


294 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
was Sonora's greeting, while the miners crowded
around them.
"No," replied the big, raw-boned, gullible-look-
ing fellow with a grin.
“We'll play it after school; you'll be the stirrup,"
promised Sonora; then turning to his mates with a
laugh, which was unobserved by Bucking Billy, he
added: “We'll initiate 'im."
Presently the miners began to move away and
Trinidad, picking up a chip which he espied under
a bench, put it on his shoulder and stood in the cen-
tre of the room, thereby indirectly challenging the
new pupil to a scrimmage.
“Don't do it!” cried Old Steady as he hung up
his hat upon a buck's horn on the wall.
“Go on! Go on!” encouraged Bill Crow, hang-
ing up his hat beside Old Steady's.
The boys took up his words in chorus.
“Go on! Go on!"
Whereupon, Sonora made a dash for the chip and
knocked it off of Trinidad's shoulder, blazing huskily
into his face as he did so:
“You do, do you?".
In the twinkling of an eye Trinidad's jacket was
off and the two men were engaged in a hand-to-hand
scuffle.
“Soak him!” came from a voice somewhere in
the crowd.


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 297
A bunch of berries was also Happy's contribu-
tion, which he made with a stiff little bow and the
one word:
“Regards."
Meantime Nick, faithful friend that he was, went
down on his knees and began to remove the Girl's
moccasins. The knowledge of his proximity encour-
aged the Girl to glance about her to see if she could
detect any signs on the men's faces which would
prove that they suspected the real truth concerning
her absence. Needless to say adoration and love
was all that she saw; nevertheless, she felt ill-at-ease
and, unconsciously, repeated:
"Hello, boys ! ” And then added, a little more
bravely: “How's everythin' ?”
"Bully!" spoke up Handsome Charlie, who was
posing for her benefit, as was his wont, beside one
of the desks.
“Say, we missed you,” acknowledged Sonora with
a world of tenderness in his voice. “Never knew
you to desert The Polka for a whole week before."
“No, I—I ..." stammered guiltily, and
with their little gifts turned abruptly towards her
desk lest she should meet their gaze.
“Academy's opened,” suddenly announced Happy,
“and -”
“Yes, I see it is,” quickly answered the Girl,
brushing away a tear that persisted in clinging to


298. GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
her eyelids; slowly, now, she drew off her gloves and
laid them on the desk.
“I guess I'm kind o' nervous to-day, boys," she
began.
“No wonder,” observed Sonora. “Road agent's
been in camp an' we missed a hangin'. I can't git
over that."
All a-quiver and not daring to meet the men's
gaze, much less to discuss the road agent with them,
the Girl endeavoured to hide her confusion by asking
Nick to help her off with her cape. Turning pres-
ently she said in a strained voice:
"Well, come on, boys — come, now!"
Immediately the boys fell in line for the opening
exercises, which consisted of an examination by the
Girl of their general appearance.
“Let me see your hands," she said to the man
nearest to her; a glance was sufficient, and he was
expelled from her presence. “Let me see yours,
Sonora,” she commanded.
Holding his hands behind his back the man ad-
dressed moved towards her slowly, for he was con-
scious of the grime that was on them. Before he
had spoken his apology she ordered him none too
gently to go and wash them, ending with an em-
phatic:
" Git!"


300 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
of this country pretty quick," consoled the little bar.
keeper just as Rance, unperceived by them, quietly
entered the room and went over to a chair by the
stove.


XVI
No man had more of a dread of the obvious than
the Sheriff. His position, he felt, was decidedly an
unpleasant one. Nevertheless, in the silence that fol-
lowed the Girl's discovery of his presence, he strug-
gled to appear his old self. He was by no means
unconscious of the fact that he had omitted his usual
cordial greeting to her, and he felt that she must be
scrutinising him, feature by feature. When, there-
fore, he shot a covert glance at her, it was with
surprise that he saw an appealing look in her
eyes.
“Oh, Jack, I want to thank you —” she began,
but stopped quickly, deterred by the hard expression
that instantly spread itself over the Sheriff's face.
Resentment, all the more bitter because he believed it
to be groundless, followed hard on the heels of her
words which he thought to be inspired solely by a
delicate tactfulness.
"Oh, don't thank me that he got away,” he said
icily. “It was the three aces and the pair you
held -"
This was the Girl's opportunity; she seized it.
“ About the three aces, I want to say that —"
It was Rance's turn to interrupt, which he did
brutally.
30I


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 303
she ordered him to take his place once more in the
line.
In a little while they were all seated, and now, at
last, it seemed to the barkeeper as if the air of the
room had been freed of its tension. No longer did
he experience a sense of alertness, a feeling that some-
thing out of the ordinary was going to happen, and
it was with immense relief that he heard the Girl take
up her duties and ask:
“What books were left from last year?”
At first no one was able to give a scrap of informa-
tion on this important matter; maybe it was because
all lips were too dry to open; in the end, how-
ever, when the silence was becoming embarrassing,
Happy moistened his lips with his tongue, and
answered:
“Why, we scared up jest a whole book left. The
name of it is — isis —” The effort was beyond
his mental powers and he came to a helpless pause.
Swelling with importance, and drawing forth the
volume in question from his pocket, Sonora stood up
and finished:
“_ is Old Joe Miller's Jokes."
“That will do nicely," declared the Girl and
seated herself on the pine-decorated box.
“Now, boys," continued Sonora, ever the most
considerate of pupils, “ before we begin I propose no
vers


304 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
Wore
drawin' of weppings, drinkin' or swearin' in school
hours. The conduct of certain members wore on
teacher last term. I don't want to mention no names,
but I want Handsome an' Happy to hear what I'm
sayin'.” And after a sweeping glance at his mates,
who, already, had begun to disport themselves and
jeer at the unfortunate pair, he wound up with: “ Is
that straight?"
“You bet it is! " yelled the others in chorus;
whereupon Sonora dropped into his seat.
In time order was restored and now the Girl, look-
ing at Rance out of her big, frightened, blue eyes,
observed:
“Rance, last year you led off with an openin' ad-
dress, an'—"
“Yes, yes, go on Sheriff !” cried the boys, hailing
her suggestion with delight.
Nevertheless, the Sheriff hesitated, seeing which,
Trinidad contributed:
“Let 'er go, Jack!"
'At length, fixing a look upon the Girl, Rance rose
and said significantly:
"I pass."
“Oh, then, Sonora,” suggested the Girl, covering
up her embarrassment as best she could, “won't you
make a speech ?"
“Me — speak?” exploded Sonora; and again:
“Me - speak? Oh, the devil!”


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 307
that she meant what she said, at least for the moment.
“An' now jest a few words more on the subject
o not settin' judgment on the errin'— a subject near
my heart.”
This remark of the Girl's brought forth murmurs
of wonder, and in the midst of them the door was
pushed slowly inward and The Sidney Duck, wearing
the deuce of spades which the Sheriff had pinned to
his jacket when he banished him from their presence
for cheating at cards, stood on the threshold, look-
ing uncertainly about him. At once all eyes were
focused upon him.
“Git! Git!” shouted the men, angrily. This
was followed by a general movement towards him,
which so impressed The Sidney Duck that he turned
on his heel and was fleeing for his life when a cry
from the Girl stopped him.
"Boys, boys,” said the Girl in a reproving voice,
which silenced them almost instantly; then, beckon-
ing to Sid to approach, she went on in her most
gentle tones: “I was jest gittin' to you, Sid, as I
promised. You can stay."
Looking like a whipped dog The Sidney Duck ad-
vanced warily towards her.
Sonora's brow grew thunderous.
“What, here among gentlemen?"
And that his protest met with instantaneous ap.
wa


308 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
proval was shown by the way the miners shifted un-
easily in their seats and shouted threateningly:
“Git! Git!”
“Why, the fellow's a _" began Trinidad, but got
no further, for the Girl stopped him by exclaiming:
“I know, I know, Trin — I've tho't it all over!”
For the next few minutes the Girl stood strangely
still and her face became very grave. Never before
had the men seen her in a mood like this, and they
exchanged wondering glances. Presently she said:
“Boys, of late a man in trouble has been on my
mind —” She paused, her glance having caught the
peculiar light which her words had caused to appear
in Rance's eyes, and lest he should misunderstand her
meaning, she hastened to add: “Sid, o' course, —
an' I fell to thinkin' o' the Prodigal Son. He done
better, didn't he?"
“But a card sharp," objected Sonora from the
depths of his big voice.
“Yes, that's what!” interjected Trinidad, bel-
ligerently.
The Girl's eyebrows lifted and a shade of resent
ment was in the answering voice:
“But s'pose there was a moment in his life when
he was called upon to find a extra ace — can't we
forgive 'im ? He says he's sorry — ain't you, Sid?”
All the while the Girl had been speaking The
Sidney Duck kept his eyes lowered and was swallow-


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 309
ing nervously. Now he raised them and, with a
feeble attempt to simulate penitence, he acknowl-
edged that he had done wrong. Nevertheless, he
declared:
“But if I 'adn't got caught things would 'a' been
different. Oh, yes, I'm sorry."
In an instant the Girl was at his side removing the
deuce of spades from his coat.
“Sid, you git your chance," she said with trem-
bling lips. “Now go an' sit down."
A broad smile was creeping over The Sidney
Duck's countenance as he moved towards the
others; but Happy, took it upon himself to limit its
spread.
“Take that!” he blazed, striking the man in the
face. “And git out of here!"
“Happy, Happy!” cried the Girl. Her voice
was so charged with reproach that The Sidney Duck
was allowed by the men to pass on without any fur-
ther molestation. Nevertheless, when he attempted
to sit beside them, they moved as far away as possible
from him and compelled him to take a stool that
stood apart from the benches which held them to-
gether in friendly proximity
At this point Trinidad inquired of the Girl
whether she meant to infer that honesty was not the
best policy, and by way of illustration, he went on to
say:


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 315.
“ Tired of us?
Ain't we got style enough for
you?"
The Girl did not answer; her breathing, swift and
short, painfully intensified the hush that had fallen
on the room; at last, the boys becoming impatient
began to bombard her with questions.
“Be you goin' to show them Ridge boys we've
petered out an' culture's a dead dog here?” began
Happy, rising.
"Do you want them to think Academy's busted?"
asked Handsome.
“Ain't we your boys no more?" put in Trinidad,
wistfully.
"Ain't I your boy?” asked Sonora, sentimen-
tally. “Why, what is it, Girl? Has anybody —
tell me — perhaps —".
The Girl raised her head and dried her eyes; when
she spoke one could have heard a pin drop.
“Oh, no, no, no," she said with averted face, and
added tremulously: “There, we won't say no more
about it. Let's forgit it. Only when I go away I
want to leave the key o' my cabin with Old Sonora
here, an' I want you all to come up sometimes, an'
to think o' me as the girl who loved you all, an' some-
times is wishin' you well, an' I want to think o'
little Nick here runnin' my bar an' not givin' the boys
too much whisky." Her words died away in a sob


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 319
“Gol Aʼmighty!"
“You liel” blazed Trinidad in the next breath,
and made a quick movement towards the Sher-
iff.
But Rance was not to be denied. Seeing Nick ad-
vancing towards them he called upon him to verify
his words; but that individual merely looked first at
one and then the other and did not answer, which
silence infuriated Sonora.
“Why, you tol me ...?" he said with an
angry look in his eye.
“Tol' you, Sonora? Why he toľ me the same
thing," protested Trinidad with an earnestness that,
at any other time, would have sent his listeners into
fits of laughter.
This was too much for Sonora; he flew into a
paroxysm of rage.
“Well, for a first-class liar . . . 1”.
“You bet!” corroborated Trinidad, relapsing, de-
spite his anger, into his pet phrase.
For some minutes the dejected suitors continued in
this strain, now arguing and then condoling with one
another, the boys, meanwhile, proceeding to clear
the school-room of the benches, casks and planks,
lifting or rolling them back into place as if they were
made of paper.
All of a sudden Sonora's face cleared perceptibly.
Turning swiftly to the Sheriff, who sat tilted back in
ne


322 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
псе,
pearing dejected and morose-looking. For his love
and devotion to the Girl were too genuine to permit
of his taking any part whatsoever in what he believed
was opposed to her happiness. On the other hand,
Rance, as may be inferred, was inwardly rejoicing,
though when he perceived that Nick was eyeing him
steadily he was careful to lower his eyes lest the little
barkeeper should see the triumph shining beneath
them. And, finally, unable to bear Nick's scrutiny
any longer, he explained with a feeble attempt at
self-defence:
"Well, I didn't do it, Nick, I didn't do it.” But
a moment later, his face hard and set, he added:
“Now he be damned! There's an end of John-
son!”.
The words were hardly out of his mouth, however,
than Johnson, his arms bound, followed by the Dep-
uty, strode into the room with the courage of one
who has long faced death, and stood before the men
who glared at him with fire in their eyes and murder
in their hearts.
“How do you do, Mr. Johnson. I think, Mr.
Johnson, five minutes will do for you." Rance gave
to the words a peculiar accent and inflection, but this
caused the prisoner to look even more composed and
calm than before; he returned crisply:
“I think so."
“So this is the gentleman the Girl loves?” So-
(


324 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
ceedings. “I handle the rope — pick the tree
“Then hurry...." said Sonora, impatiently,
while Trinidad interposed with his usual, “ You bet!”
“One moment," said the prisoner as the miners
started to go out; and, strange to relate, the Sheriff
ordered the men to halt. Turning once more to the
prisoner, he said:
“Be quick — what is it?"
“ It is true," began the unfortunate road agent in
an even, unemotional voice, “ that I love the Girl.”
At these words Rance's arms flew up threateningly,
while a mocking smile sprang to his lips.
“Well, you won't in a minute," he reminded him
grimly.
The taunt brought no change of expression to the
prisoner's face or change of tone in his voice as he
went on to say that he did not care what they did to
him; that he was prepared for anything; and that
every man who travelled the path that he did faced
death every day for a drink of water or ten minutes'
sleep, concluding calmly:
“You've got me and I wouldn't care but for the
Girl."
“You've got just three minutes !” A shade al-
most of contempt was in Sonora's exclamation.
“Yes . . .1" blazed Trinidad.
There was an impressive silence; then in a voice


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 325
CE
that trembled strangely between pride and humility
Johnson continued:
“I don't want her to know my end. Why, that
would be an awful thought for her to go on with all
her life — that I died out there — near at hand.
Why, boys, she couldn't stay here after that — she
couldn't ..."
“That's understood," replied Rance, succinctly.
“I'd like her to think,” went on the prisoner, with
difficulty choking back the tears, “that I got away
clear and went East and changed my way of living.
So you just drag me a good ways from here before
you —” He stopped abruptly and began to swal-
low nervously. When he spoke again it was with a
perceptible change of manner. “And when I don't
write and she never hears why she will say, 'he's for-
gotten me,' and that will be about enough for her to
remember, because she loved me before she knew
what I was — and you can't change love in a min-
anner
ute."
All the while Johnson had been speaking the
Sheriff's jealousy had been growing steadily until,
finally, turning upon the other with a succession of
oaths he struck him a fierce blow in the face.
"I don't blame you,” returned the prisoner with-
out a trace of malice in his voice. “Strike me again
-strike me one death is not enough for me.
Damn me — I wish you could... Oh, why


328 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
the end the Sheriff would carry his point, and deter-
mined to go before his courage failed him, Johnson
made a movement towards the door. Speaking
bravely, though his voice trembled, he said:
“Come, boys — come.”
But, odd as it may seem, Nick's words had taken
root.
“Wait a minute," Rance temporised.
The prisoner halted.
“I don't know that I'm so small a man as to deny
the usual courtesies, since you put it that way," con-
tinued Rance. “I always have extended them. But
we'll hear what you have to say — that's our protec-
tion. And it might interest some of us to hear what
the Girl will have to say to you, Mr. Johnson —
after a week in her cabin there may be more to know
than "
Fire leapt to Johnson's eyes; he cried hoarsely —
“Stop!”
“Rance, you don't know what you're sayin'," re-
sented Nick, casting hard looks at him; while Sonora
put a heavy hand upon the Sheriff and threatened
him with:
“Now, Rance, you stop that!”.
“We'll hear every word he has to say,” insisted
the Sheriff, doggedly.
“You bet!" affirmed Trinidad.
“Nick! Nick!" called the Girl once more, and


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 329
while the little barkeeper went over to admit her the
Wells Fargo Agent took his leave, calling back after
him:
“Well, boys, you've got him safe — I can't wait
— I'm off !”
“Dep, untie the prisoner! Boys, circle round the
bar! Trin, put a man at that door! And Sonora,
put a couple of men at those windows !” And so
swift were the men in carrying out his instructions,
that even as he spoke, everyone was at his post, the
Sheriff himself and Sonora remaining unseen but on
guard at the doors, while the prisoner, edging up
close to the door, was not in evidence when the Girl
entered.
“ You can think of something to tell her — lie to
her,” had been the Sheriff's parting suggestion.
“I'll let her think I risked coming back to see her
again," had replied the prisoner, his throat trem-
bling.
“She won't know it's for the last time — we'll be
there," had come warningly from the Sheriff as he
pointed to the door that led to the bar-room.
oor
“Why, what have you got the door barred for?”
asked the Girl as she came into the room; and then
without waiting for an answer: “Why, where are
the boys ?”


330 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“Well, you see, the boys — the boys has — has
-" began Nick confusedly and stopped.
“The boys —" There was a question in the Girl's
voice.
“Has gone."
“Gone where?”
“Why, to the Palmetter," came out feebly from
Nick; and then with a sudden change of manner, he
added: “Oh, say, Girl, I likes you!” And here he
laid his hand affectionately upon her shoulder.
“You've been my religion — the bar an' you. Why,
you don't never want to leave us — why, I'd drop
dead for you."
“Nick, you're very nice to —” began the Girl,
gratefully, and stopped, for at that instant a gentle
tap came upon the door. Turning swiftly, she saw
Johnson coming towards her.
“ Girl!” he cried in an agony of joy, and held out
his arms to receive her.
"You? You?" she admonished softly.
“Don't say a word,” he whispered hurriedly
“You shouldn't have come back," she said with
knitted brow.
“I had to — to say good-bye once more." And
his voice was so filled with tenderness that she readily
forgave him for the indiscretion.
“It's all right, it's all right," murmured Nick, his
hand still on the door, which he had taken the pre-


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 331
bas
This
caution to bolt after the Girl had passed through
it.
There was a moment's silence; then, going over to
the windows, the Girl pulled down the curtains.
“The boys are good for quite a little bit,” she said
as she came back. “Don't git nervous — I'll give
you warnin' . . ."
Nick, unwilling to witness the heartrending scene
which he foresaw would follow, noiselessly withdrew
into the bar-room, leaving the prisoner alone with
the Girl.
“Don't be afraid, my Girl,” said Johnson, softly.
But the Girl's one thought, after her first gladness,
was of his safety:
“But you can't git away now without bein' seen ? "
“Yes, there's another way out of Cloudy, and
I'm going to take it."
The grimness of his meaning was lost on the Girl,
who answered urgently:
“Then go — go! Don't wait, go now!”
Johnson smiled a sad little smile:
“But remember that I'm sorry for the past, and —
and don't forget me," he said, with an odd break in
his voice,— so odd that it roused the Girl into startled
wonderment.
"Forget you? Why, Dick...!”
“I mean, till we meet again," he reassured her
hastily.
lea
Seadly


338 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST.
"You let 'im go?” questioned the Girl, still in a
daze.
“That's our verdict, an' we're prepared to back
it up," declared Sonora with a smile on his weathered
face, though the tears streamed down his cheeks.
The Girl's face illumined with a great joy. She
did not stop now to dissipate the tears which she saw
rolling down Sonora's face, as was her wont when
any of the boys were grieved or distressed, but fairly
flew out of the cabin, calling half-frantically, half-ec-
statically:
“ Dick! Dick! You're free! You're free!
You're free . . .!"
The minutes passed and still the miners did not
move. They stood with an air of solemnity gazing
silently at one another. Only too well did they real-
ise what was happening to them. They were
inconsolable. Presently, Sonora, all in a heap on a
bench, took out some tobacco and began to chew
it as fast as his mouth would let him; Happy, going
over to the teacher's desk, picked up the bunch of ber-
ries which he had presented her at the opening of the
school session and began to fondle them; while Trin-
idad, too overcome to speak, stood leaning against the
door, gazing sadly in the direction that the Girl had
taken. As for Rance, after calling to Nick to bring
him a drink, he quietly brought out a pack of cards


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 339
from his pocket and, seemingly, became absorbed in
a game of solitaire.
A little while later, his eyes still red from weeping,
Nick remarked:
“The Polka won't never be the same, boys — the
Girl's gone."


XVIII
The soft and velvety blackness of night was giving
place to a pearly grey, and the feathery streaks of a
trembling dawn were shooting heavenward when a
man, whose head had been pillowed on a Mexican
saddle, rose from the ground in front of a tepee, made
of blankets on crossed sticks, and seated himself on
an old tree-stump where he proceeded to light a ciga-
rette.
In the little tepee, sheltered by an overhanging
rock, the Girl was still sleeping; and the man, sitting
opposite the mound of earth and rock on which it was
built, was Johnson.
A week had passed since the lovers had left Cloudy
Mountain, and each day, at the moment when the sun
burst above the snow-capped mountains, found them
up and riding slowly eastward. No attempt what-
ever was made at haste, but, instead, now climbing
easily to the top of the passes, now descending into
the valleys, they rode slowly on, ever loathe to leave
behind them the great forests and high mountains.
Noon of each day found them always resting in
some glen where the sun made golden lace-work of
the branches over their heads; while at the approach
of night when the great orb was no longer to be seen
through the tree-tops and twilight was fast settling
340


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 341
upon the woods, they would halt near a pool of a
dancing brook where, with the relish of fatigue, they
would partake of their rations; and then, when the
silences came on, Johnson would proceed to put up
with loving skill the Girl's rude quarters and, stretch-
ing himself out on a gentle slope, covered with pine
needles matted close together, the man and the Girl
would go to sleep listening to the music of the stream
as it gurgled and dashed along, foaming and leaping,
over the rocks and beneath the little patches of snow
forgotten by the sun. And to these two, whether in
the depths of the vast forest or, as now, at the edge of
the merciless desert, stretching away like a world
without end, their environment seemed nothing less
than a paradise.
There were moments, however, in the long days,
which could be devoted to reflection; and often John-
son pondered over the strange fate that had brought
him under the influence — an influence which held
him now and which he earnestly prayed would con-
tinue to hold him — and into close relationship with
a character so different from his own. A contempla-
tion of his past life was wholly unnecessary, for the
realisation had come to him that it was her personal-
ity alone that had awakened his dormant sense of
what was right and what was wrong, and changed
the course of his life. That his future was full of
possibilities, evil as well as good, he was only too


342 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
well aware; nevertheless, his faith in himself was
that of a strong man whose powers of resistance, in
this case, would be immeasurably strengthened by con-
stant association with a stronger character.
It was while he was in the midst of these thoughts
that the Girl, without letting him see her, quietly
drew the blankets of the tepee a little to one side and
peered out at him. She, too, had not been without
her moments of meditation. Not that she regretted
for an instant that she had committed herself to him
irrevocably but, rather, because she feared lest he
should find it difficult to detach himself, soul and
body, from the adventurous life he had been lead-
ing. Such painful communings, however, were rare
and quickly dismissed as unworthy of her; and now
as she looked at him with faith and joy in her eyes, it
seemed to her that never before had she seen him
appear so resolute and strong, and she rejoiced that
he belonged to her. At the thought a blush spread
over her features, and it was not until she had drawn
the blankets back into their place that she called from
behind them:
“Are you awake, Dick?”.
At the sound of her voice the man quickly arose
and, going over to the tepee, he parted the blankets
and held them open. And even as she passed out
the greyness of dawn was replaced by silver, and
silver by pink tints which lighted up the pale green


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 343
of the sage brush, the dwarf shrubs and clumps of
Buffalo grass around them as well as the darker
green of the pines and hemlocks of the foothills in
the near distance.
“Another day, Girl," he said softly. “See, the
dawn is breaking!".
For some moments they stood side by side in
silence, the man thinking of the future, the woman
serenely happy and lost in admiration of the calm
beauty of the scene which, in one direction, at least,
differed greatly from anything that she had ever be-
held. Every night previous to the one just passed
they had encamped in the great forests; but now
they looked upon a vast expanse of level plain which,
to the north and east, stretched trackless and un-
broken by mountain or ravine to an infinitude — the
boundless prairies soon to be mellowed and turned
to a golden brown by the shafts of a burning sun
already just below the edge of an horizon aglow with
opaline tints.
The Girl had ever been a lover of nature. All
her life the mystery and silences of the high moun-
tains had appealed to her soul; but never until now
had she realised the marvellous beauty and glory of
the great plains. And yet, though her eyes shone
with the wonder of it all, there was an unmistakably
sad and reminiscent note in the voice that presently
murmured:
ies
SOO
10


344 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
“Another day."
After a while, and as if under the spell of some
unseen power, she slowly turned and faced the west
where she gazed long and earnestly at the panorama
of the snow-capped peaks, rising range after range,
all tipped with dazzling light.
“Oh, Dick, look back !" she cried in distress.
“The foothills are growin' fainter.” She paused,
but suddenly with a far-off look in her eyes she went
on: “Every dawn — every dawn they'll be farther
away. Some night when I'm goin' to sleep I'll turn
an' they won't be there — red an' shinin'." Again
she paused as if almost overwhelmed with emotion,
saying at length with a deep sigh: “Oh, that was
indeed the promised land!”
Johnson was greatly moved. It was some time
before he found his voice. At length he chided her
softly:
“We must always look ahead, Girl — not back-
wards. The promised land is always ahead."
It was perhaps strange that the Girl failed to see
the new light — the light that reflected his desire
for a cleaner life and an honoured place in another
community with her ever at his side — the hope and
faith in his eyes as he spoke; but still in that sad,
reminiscent mood, with her eyes fixed on the dim
distances, she failed to see it, though she replied in
a voice of resignation:


GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST 345
“ Always ahead — yes, it must be.” And then
again with tears in her eyes: “ But, Dick, all the
people there in Cloudy, how far off they seem now
— like shadows movin' in a dream — like shadows
I've dreamt of." Only a few days ago I clasped their
hands — I seen their faces — their dear faces —
1 -—" She broke off; then while the tears streamed
down her cheeks: “An' now they're fadin'— in this
little while I've lost 'em — lost 'em."
“But through you all my old life has faded away.
. . . I have lost that...." And so say-
ing he stretched out his arms towards her; but very
gently she waved him back with a murmured:
“Not yet!"
For a little while longer her gaze remained on
the mountains in the west. The mist was still over
her eyes when she turned again and saw that the sun
was clearing the horizon in opulent splendour.
“See,” she cried with a quick transition of mood,
“the sun has risen in the East — far away — fair
an' clear!”
Again Johnson held out his arms to her.
“A new day -- a new life — trust me, Girl.”
In silence she slipped one hand into his; then she
bowed her head and repeated solemnly:
“Yes - a new life.”
Suddenly she drew a little away from him and
faced the west again. Clinging tightly now to him


346 GIRL OF THE GOLDEN WEST
with one hand, and the other raised high above her
head, she cried in a voice that was fraught with such
passionate longing that the man felt himself stirred
to the very depths of his emotions:
“Oh, my mountains, I'm leavin' you! Oh, my
California — my lovely West — my Sierras, I'm
leavin' you!” She ended with a sob; but the next
moment throwing herself into Johnson's arms she
snuggled there, murmuring lovingly: “Oh, my
home!”
A little while later, happy in their love and fear-
lessly eager to meet the trials of the days to come
in a new country, they had mounted their mustangs
and were riding eastward.
n
& L new C



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