THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 tanirart> tibrarp <intion 
 
 THE WRITINGS OF 
 BRET HARTE 
 
 WITH INTRODUCTIONS, GLOSSARY, AND 
 
 INDEXES 
 
 ILL USTRA TED B Y PHO TOGRA VURES 
 VOLUME IV
 
 The woman . . . stood before him
 
 XDrftt'ttgsf of Bwt % art* 
 
 STANDARD LIBRARY EDITION 
 
 i 
 
 x 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
 
 es of California anD tije 
 II 
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 AND OTHER TALES 
 
 BY 
 
 BRET HARTE 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 <3tfre fiibewibe pres, Cambribge
 
 Copyright, 1884, 1885, 1887, and 1889, 
 BY BKET HARTE. 
 
 Copyright, 1883 and 1896, 
 BY HOUGHTON, MIPFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U, 8. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.
 
 PS 
 
 las 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 1 
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 126 
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 192 
 
 A SHIP OF '49 223 
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 306 
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 335 
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL ....... 417 
 
 90-7884
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 i 
 
 THE WOMAN . . . STOOD BEFORE HIM (See 
 
 page 6) Frontispiece Alice Barber Stephens 
 
 VIGNETTE ON ENGRAVED TITLE-PAGE . . Charles H. Woodbury 
 
 SHE CAUGHT HIM BY THE KNEES .... Alice Barber Stephens 
 
 HE LOOKED CURIOUSLY AT HIS REFLECTION E. Boyd Smith . . . 
 
 BREAK FOR THE TULES E. Boyd Smith . . . 
 
 DEVIL'S FOKD W. L. Taylor . . .
 
 STORIES OF CALIFORNIA AND THE 
 FRONTIER. II 
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE sun was going down on the Carquinez Woods. 
 The few shafts of sunlight that had pierced their pillared 
 gloom were lost in unfathomable depths, or splintered 
 their ineffectual lances on the enormous trunks of the red- 
 woods. For a time the dull red of their vast columns, 
 and the dull red of their cast-off bark which matted the 
 echoless aisles, still seemed to hold a faint glow of the 
 dying day. But even this soon passed. Light and color 
 fled upwards. The dark, interlaced treetops, that had all 
 day made an impenetrable shade, broke into fire here and 
 there; their lost spires glittered, faded, and went utterly 
 out. A weird twilight that did not come from an outer 
 world, but seemed born of the wood itself, slowly filled 
 and possessed the aisles. The straight, tall, colossal 
 trunks rose dimly like columns of upward smoke. The 
 few fallen trees stretched their huge length into obscurity, 
 and seemed to lie on shadowy trestles. The strange 
 breath that filled these mysterious vaults had neither cold- 
 ness nor moisture ; a dry, fragrant dust arose from the 
 noiseless foot that trod their bark-strewn floor : the aisles 
 might have been tombs ; the fallen trees, enormous mum- 
 mies ; the silence, the solitude of the forgotten past. 
 
 And yet this silence was presently broken by a recurring
 
 2 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 sound like breathing, interrupted occasionally by inarticu- 
 late and stertorous gasps. It was not the quick, panting, 
 listening breath of some stealthy feline or canine animal, 
 but indicated a larger, slower, and more powerful organi- 
 zation, whose progress was less watchful and guarded, or 
 as if a fragment of one of the fallen monsters had become 
 animate. At times this life seemed to take visible form, 
 but as vaguely, as misshapenly, as the phantom of a night- 
 mare. Now it was a square object moving sideways, end- 
 ways, with neither head nor tail and scarcely visible feet ; 
 then an arched bulk rolling against the trunks of the trees 
 and recoiling again, or an upright cylindrical mass, but al- 
 ways oscillating and unsteady, and striking the trees on 
 either hand. The frequent occurrence of the movement 
 suggested the figures of some weird rhythmic dance to 
 music heard by the shape alone. Suddenly it either be- 
 came motionless or faded away. There was the frightened 
 neighing of a horse, the sudden jingling of spurs, a shout 
 and outcry, and the swift apparition of three dancing torches 
 in one of the dark aisles ; but so intense was the obscurity 
 that they shed no light on surrounding objects, and seemed 
 to advance at their own volition without human guidance, 
 until they disappeared suddenly behind the interposing bulk 
 of one of the largest trees. Beyond its eighty feet of cir- 
 cumference the light could not reach, and the gloom re- 
 mained inscrutable. But the voices and jingling spurs 
 were heard distinctly. 
 
 " Blast the mare ! She 's shied off that cursed trail 
 again." 
 
 "Ye ain't lost it agin, hev ye? " growled a second voice. 
 
 " That 's jist what I hev. And these blasted pine knots 
 don't give light an inch beyond 'em. D d if I don't 
 think they make this cursed hole blacker." 
 
 There was a laugh a woman's laugh hysterical, 
 bitter, sarcastic, exasperating. The second speaker, with- 
 out heeding it, went on :
 
 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 3 
 
 " What in thunder skeert the bosses ? Did you see or 
 hear anything ? " 
 
 " Nothin'. The wood is like a graveyard." 
 
 The woman's voice again broke into a hoarse, contemp- 
 tuous laugh. The man resumed angrily : 
 
 11 If you know anything, why in h 11 don't you say so, 
 instead of cackling like a d d squaw there ? P'r'aps you 
 reckon you ken find the trail too." 
 
 " Take this rope off my wrist," said the woman's voice, 
 " untie my hands, let me down, and I '11 find it." She 
 spoke quickly and with a Spanish accent. 
 
 It was the men's turn to laugh. " And give you a show 
 to snatch that six-shooter and blow a hole through me, as 
 you did to the Sheriff of Calaveras, eh ? Not if this court 
 understands itself," said the first speaker dryly. 
 
 "Go to the devil, then," she said curtly. 
 
 " Not before a lady," responded the other. There was 
 another laugh from the men, the spurs jingled again, the 
 three torches reappeared from behind the tree, and then 
 passed away in the darkness. 
 
 For a time silence and immutability possessed the woods ; 
 the great trunks loomed upwards, their fallen brothers 
 stretched their slow length into obscurity. The sound of 
 breathing again became audible ; the shape reappeared in 
 the aisle, and recommenced its mystic dance. Presently it 
 was lost in the shadow of the largest tree, and to the sound 
 of breathing succeeded a grating and scratching of bark. 
 Suddenly, as if riven by lightning, a flash broke from the 
 centre of the tree-trunk, lit up the woods, and a sharp 
 report rang through it. After a pause the jingling of spurs 
 and the dancing of torches were revived from the distance. 
 
 "Hallo?" 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Who fired that shot ? " 
 
 But there was no reply. A slight veil of smoke passed
 
 4 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 away to the right, there was the spice of gunpowder in the 
 air, but nothing more. 
 
 The torches came forward again, but this time it could 
 be seen they were held in the hands of two men and a 
 woman. The woman's hands were tied at the wrist to the 
 horse-hair reins of her mule, while a riata, passed around 
 her waist and under the mule's girth, was held by one of 
 the men, who were both armed with rifles and revolvers. 
 Their frightened horses curveted, and it was with difficulty 
 they could be made to advance. 
 
 " Ho ! stranger, what are you shooting at ? " 
 
 The woman laughed, and shrugged her shoulders. 
 "Look yonder at the roots of the tree. You're a d d 
 smart man for a sheriff, ain't you ? " 
 
 The man uttered an exclamation and spurred his horse 
 forward, but the animal reared in terror. He then sprang 
 to the ground and approached the tree. The shape lay 
 there, a scarcely distinguishable bulk. 
 
 " A grizzly, by the living Jingo ! Shot through the 
 heart." 
 
 It was true. The strange shape lit up by the flaring 
 torches seemed more vague, unearthly, and awkward in 
 its dying throes, yet the small shut eyes, the feeble nose, 
 the ponderous shoulders, and half-human foot armed with 
 powerful claws were unmistakable. The men turned by a 
 common impulse and peered into the remote recesses of the 
 wood again. 
 
 " Hi, mister ! come and pick up your game. Hallo 
 there ! " The challenge fell unheeded on the empty woods. 
 
 "And yet," said he whom the woman had called the 
 sheriff, " he can't be far off. It was a close shot, and the 
 bear hez dropped in his tracks. Why, wot 's this sticking 
 in his claws ? " 
 
 The two men bent over the animal. " Why, it 's sugar, 
 brown sugar look ! " There was no mistake. The huge
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 5 
 
 beast's fore paws and muzzle were streaked with the unro- 
 mantic household provision, and heightened the absurd con- 
 trast of its incongruous members. The woman, apparently 
 indifferent, had taken that opportunity to partly free one of 
 her wrists. 
 
 " If we had n't been cavorting round this yer spot for 
 the last half-hour, I 'd swear there was a shanty not a 
 hundred yards away," said the sheriff. The other man, 
 without replying, remounted his horse instantly. 
 
 " If there is, and it 's inhabited by a gentleman that 
 kin make centre shots like that in the dark, and don't 
 care to explain how, I reckon I won't disturb him." 
 
 The sheriff was apparently of the same opinion, for he 
 followed his companion's example, and once more led the 
 way. The spurs tinkled, the torches danced, and the 
 cavalcade slowly reentered the gloom. In another moment 
 it had disappeared. 
 
 The wood sank again into repose, this time disturbed by 
 neither shape nor sound. What lower forms of life might 
 have crept close to its roots were hidden in the ferns, or 
 passed with deadened tread over the bark-strewn floor. 
 Towards morning a coolness like dew fell from above, 
 with here and there a dropping twig or nut, or the crepi- 
 tant awakening and stretching-out of cramped and weary 
 branches. Later a dull, lurid dawn, not unlike the last 
 evening's sunset, filled the aisles. This faded again, and 
 a clear gray light, in which every object stood out in sharp 
 distinctness, took its place. Morning was waiting outside 
 in all its brilliant, youthful coloring, but only entered as 
 the matured and sobered day. 
 
 Seen in that stronger light, the monstrous tree near 
 which the dead bear lay revealed its age in its denuded 
 and scarred trunk, and showed in its base a deep cavity, 
 a foot or two from the ground, partly hidden by hanging 
 strips of bark which had fallen across it. Suddenly one
 
 6 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 of these strips was pushed aside, and a young man leaped 
 lightly down. 
 
 But for the rifle he carried and some modern peculiari- 
 ties of dress, he was of a grace so unusual and unconven- 
 tional that he might have passed for a faun who was 
 quitting his ancestral home. He stepped to the side of 
 the bear with a light elastic movement that was as unlike 
 customary progression as his face and figure were unlike 
 the ordinary types of humanity. Even as he leaned upon 
 his rifle, looking down at the prostrate animal, he uncon- 
 sciously fell into an attitude that in any other mortal 
 would have been a pose, but with him was the picturesque 
 and unstudied relaxation of perfect symmetry. 
 
 " Hallo, mister ! " 
 
 He raised his head so carelessly and listlessly that he 
 did not otherwise change his attitude. Stepping from 
 behind the tree, the woman of the preceding night stood 
 before him. Her hands, were free except for a thong of 
 the riata, which was still knotted around one wrist, the 
 end of the thong having been torn or burnt away. Her 
 eyes were bloodshot, and her hair hung over her shoulders 
 in one long black braid. 
 
 " I reckoned all along it was you who shot the bear," 
 she said ; " at least some one hidin' yer," and she indi- 
 cated the hollow tree with her hand. " It was n't no 
 chance shot." Observing that the young man, either from 
 misconception or indifference, did not seem to comprehend 
 her, she added, " We came by here last night, a minute 
 after you fired." 
 
 " Oh, that was you kicked up such a row, was it ? " 
 said the young man, with a shade of interest. 
 
 " I reckon," said the woman, nodding her head, " and 
 them that was with me." 
 
 " And who are they ? " 
 
 " Sheriff Dunn, of Yolo, and his deputy."
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 7 
 
 " And where are they now ? " 
 
 " The deputy in h 11, I reckon. I don't know about 
 the sheriff." 
 
 11 1 see," said the young man quietly ; " and you ? " 
 
 "I got away," she said savagely. But she was taken 
 with a sudden nervous shiver, which she at once repressed 
 by tightly dragging her shawl over her shoulders and el- 
 bows, and folding her arms defiantly. 
 
 " And you 're going ? " 
 
 "To follow the deputy, maybe," she said gloomily. 
 " But come, I say, ain't you going to treat ? It 's cursed 
 cold here." 
 
 "Wait a moment." The young man was looking at 
 her, with his arched brows slightly knit and a half smile 
 of curiosity. " Ain't you Teresa ? " 
 
 She was prepared for the question, but evidently was 
 not certain whether she would reply defiantly or confi- 
 dently. After an exhaustive scrutiny of his face she 
 chose the latter, and said, " You can bet your life on it, 
 Johnny." 
 
 " I don't bet, and my name is n't Johnny. Then 
 you 're the woman who stabbed Dick Curson over at 
 Lagrange's ? " 
 
 She became defiant again. " That 's me, all the time. 
 What are you going to do about it ? " 
 
 " Nothing. And you used to dance at the Alhambra ? " 
 
 She whisked the shawl from her shoulders, held it up 
 like a scarf, and made one or two steps of the sembi- 
 cuacua. There was not the least gayety, recklessness, 
 or spontaneity in the action ; it was simply mechanical 
 bravado. It was so ineffective, even upon her own feel- 
 ings, that her arms presently dropped to her side, and she 
 coughed embarrassedly. "Where's that whiskey, pard- 
 ner ? " she asked. 
 
 The young man turned toward the tree he had just
 
 8 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 quitted, and without further words assisted her to mount 
 to the cavity. It was an irregular-shaped vaulted cham- 
 ber, pierced fifty feet above by a shaft or cylindrical open- 
 ing in the decayed trunk, which was blackened by smoke 
 as if it had served the purpose of a chimney. In one 
 corner lay a bearskin and blanket ; at the side were two 
 alcoves or indentations, one of which was evidently used 
 as a table, and the other as a cupboard. In another hol- 
 low, near the entrance, lay a few small sack& of flour, coffee, 
 and sugar, the sticky contents of the latter still strewing 
 the floor. From this storehouse the young man drew a 
 wicker flask of whiskey, and handed it, with a tin cup of 
 water, to the woman. She waved the cup aside, placed 
 the flask to her lips, and drank the undiluted spirit. Yet 
 even this was evidently bravado, for the water started to 
 her eyes, and she could not restrain the paroxysm of cough- 
 ing that followed. 
 
 " I reckon that 's the kind that kills at forty rods," she 
 said, with an hysterical laugh. " But I say, pardner, you 
 look as if you were fixed here to stay," and she stared 
 ostentatiously around the chamber. But she had already 
 taken in its minutest details, even to observing that the 
 hanging strips of bark could be disposed so as to com- 
 pletely hide the entrance. 
 
 " Well, yes," he replied ; " it would n't be very easy to 
 pull up the stakes and move the shanty further on." 
 
 Seeing that either from indifference or caution he had not 
 accepted her meaning, she looked at him fixedly, and said, 
 
 " What is your little game ? " 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 " What are you hiding for here in this tree ? " 
 
 " But I 'm not hiding." 
 
 " Then why did n't you come out when they hailed you 
 last night ? 
 
 " Because I did n't care to."
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 9 
 
 Teresa whistled incredulously. " All right then if 
 you 're not hiding, I 'm going to." As he did not reply, 
 she went on : " If I can keep out of sight for a couple of 
 weeks, this thing will blow over here, and I can get across 
 into Yolo. I could get a fair show there, where the boys 
 know me. Just now the trails are all watched, but no one 
 would think of lookin' here." 
 
 " Then how did you come to think of it ? " he asked 
 carelessly. 
 
 "Because I knew that bear hadn't gone far for that 
 sugar ; because I knew he had n't stole it from a cache 
 it was too fresh, and we 'd have seen the torn-up earth ; 
 because we had passed no camp ; and because I knew 
 there was no shanty here. And, besides," she added in a 
 low voice, " maybe I was huntin' a hole myself to die in 
 and spotted it by instinct." 
 
 There was something in this suggestion of a hunted 
 animal that, unlike anything she had previously said or 
 suggested, was not exaggerated, and caused the young man 
 to look at her again. She was standing under the chimney- 
 like opening, and the light from above illuminated her head 
 and shoulders. The pupils of her eyes had lost their fever- 
 ish prominence, and were slightly suffused and softened as 
 she gazed abstractedly before her. The only vestige of her 
 previous excitement was in her left-hand fingers, which were 
 incessantly twisting and turning a diamond ring upon her 
 right hand, but without imparting the least animation to 
 her rigid attitude. Suddenly, as if conscious of his scrutiny, 
 she stepped aside out of the revealing light, and by a swift 
 feminine instinct raised her hand to her head as if to ad- 
 just her straggling hair. It was only for a moment, how- 
 ever, for, as if aware of the weakness, she struggled to 
 resume her aggressive pose. 
 
 " Well," she said, " speak up. Am I goin' to stop here, 
 or have I got to get up and get ? "
 
 10 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 " You can stay," said the young man quietly ; " but as 
 I've got my provisions and ammunition here, and haven't 
 any other place to go to just now, I suppose we '11 have to 
 share it together." 
 
 She glanced at him under her eyelids, and a half-bitter, 
 half-contemptuous smile passed across her face. "All 
 right, old man," she said, holding out her hand, " it 's a go. 
 We '11 start in housekeeping at once, if you like." 
 
 " I '11 have to come here once or twice a day," he said, 
 quite composedly, " to look after my things, and get some- 
 thing to eat ; but I '11 be away most of the time, and what 
 with camping out under the trees every night I reckon my 
 share won't incommode you." 
 
 She opened her black eyes upon him, at this original 
 proposition. Then she looked down at her torn dress. 
 " I suppose this style of thing ain't very fancy, is it ? " she 
 said, with a forced laugh. 
 
 " I think I know where to beg or borrow a change for 
 you, if you can't get any," he replied simply. 
 
 She stared at him again. " Are you a family man ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 She was silent for a moment. " Well," she said, " you 
 can tell your girl I 'm not particular about its being in the 
 latest fashion." 
 
 There was a slight flush on his forehead as he turned 
 toward the little cupboard, but no tremor in his voice as he 
 went on : " You '11 find tea and coffee here, and, if you 're 
 bored, there's a book or two. You read, don't you I 
 mean English ? " 
 
 She nodded, but cast a look of undisguised contempt 
 upon the two worn, coverless novels he held out to her. 
 "You haven't got last week's 'Sacramento Union,' have 
 you ? I hear they have my case all in ; only them lying 
 reporters made it out against me all the time." 
 
 "I don't see the papers," he replied curtly.
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 11 
 
 "They say there's a picture of me in the 'Police Ga- 
 zette/ taken in the act," and she laughed. 
 
 He looked a little abstracted, and turned as if to go. 
 " I think you '11 do well to rest a while just now, and keep 
 as close hid as possible until afternoon. The trail is a mile 
 away at the nearest point, but some one might miss it and 
 stray over here. You 're quite safe if you 're careful, and 
 stand by the tree. You can build a fire here," he stepped 
 under the chimney-like opening, " without its being noticed. 
 Even the smoke is lost and cannot be seen so high." 
 
 The light from above was falling on his head and shoul- 
 ders, as it had on hers. She looked at him intently. 
 
 " You travel a good deal on your figure, pardner, don't 
 you ? " she said, with a certain admiration that was quite 
 sexless in its quality ; " but I don't see how you pick up a 
 living by it in the Carquinez Woods. So you 're going, 
 are you ? You might be more sociable. Good-by." 
 
 " Good-by ! " He leaped from the opening. 
 
 " I say, pardner ! " 
 
 He turned, a little impatiently. She had knelt down at 
 the entrance, so as to be nearer his level, and was holding 
 out her hand. But he did not notice it, and she quietly 
 withdrew it. 
 
 " If anybody dropped in and asked for you, what name 
 will they say ? " 
 
 He smiled. " Don't wait to hear." 
 
 " But suppose / wanted to sing out for you, what will I 
 call you ? " 
 
 He hesitated. " Call me Lo." 
 
 " Lo, the poor Indian ? " l 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 It suddenly occurred to the woman, Teresa, that in the 
 young man's height, supple yet erect carriage, color, and 
 
 l The first word of Pope's familiar apostrophe is humorously used in the 
 far West as a distinguishing title for the Indian.
 
 12 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 singular gravity of demeanor there was a refined aboriginal 
 suggestion. He did not look like any Indian she had ever 
 seen, but rather as a youthful chief might have looked. 
 There was a further suggestion in his fringed buckskin shirt 
 and moccasins ; but before she could utter the half-sarcastic 
 comment that rose to her lips he had glided noiselessly 
 away, even as an Indian might have done. 
 
 She readjusted the slips of hanging bark with feminine 
 ingenuity, dispersing them so as to completely hide the 
 entrance. Yet this did not darken the chamber, which 
 seemed to draw a purer and more vigorous light through 
 the soaring shaft that pierced the room than that which 
 came from the dim woodland aisles below. Nevertheless, 
 she shivered, and drawing her shawl closely around her 
 began to collect some half-burnt fragments of wood in the 
 chimney to make a fire. But the preoccupation of her 
 thoughts rendered this a tedious process, as she would 
 from time to time stop in the middle of an action and fall 
 into an attitude of rapt abstraction, with far-off eyes and 
 rigid mouth. When she had at last succeeded in kindling 
 a fire and raising a film of pale blue smoke, that seemed to 
 fade and dissipate entirely before it reached the top of the 
 chimney shaft, she crouched beside it, fixed her eyes on the 
 darkest corner of the cavern, and became motionless. 
 
 What did she see through that shadow ? 
 
 Nothing at first but a confused medley of figures and 
 incidents of the preceding night ; things to be put away 
 and forgotten ; things that would not have happened but 
 for another thing the thing before which everything 
 faded ! A ball-room ; the sounds of music ; the one man 
 she had cared for insulting her with the flaunting osten- 
 tation of his unfaithfulness ; herself despised, put aside, 
 laughed at, or worse, jilted. And then the moment of 
 delirium, when the light danced ; the one wild act that 
 lifted her, the despised one, above them all made her
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 13 
 
 the supreme figure, to be glanced at by frightened women, 
 stared at by half-startled, half-admiring men ! " Yes," she 
 laughed ; but struck by the sound of her own voice, moved 
 twice round the cavern nervously, and then dropped again 
 into her old position. 
 
 As they carried him away he had laughed at her 
 like a hound that he was ; he who had praised her for 
 her spirit, and incited her revenge against others ; he 
 who had taught her to strike when she was insulted j 
 and it was only fit he should reap what he had sown. 
 She was what he, what other men, had made her. And 
 what was she now ? What had she been once ? 
 
 She tried to recall her childhood : the man and woman 
 who might have been her father and mother ; who fought 
 and wrangled over her precocious little life ; abused or 
 caressed her as she sided with either ; and then left her 
 with a circus troupe, where she first tasted the power of 
 her courage, her beauty, and her recklessness. She re- 
 membered those flashes of triumph that left a fever in her 
 veins a fever that when it failed must be stimulated by 
 dissipation, by anything, by everything that would keep 
 her name a wonder in men's mouths, an envious fear to 
 women. She recalled her transfer to the strolling play- 
 ers ; her cheap pleasures, and cheaper rivalries and hatred 
 
 but always Teresa ! the daring Teresa ! the reckless 
 Teresa ! audacious as a woman, invincible as a boy ; dan- 
 cing, flirting, fencing, shooting, swearing, drinking, smoking, 
 fighting Teresa ! " Oh, yes ; she had been loved, perhaps 
 
 who knows ? but always feared. Why should she 
 change now ? Ha ! he should see." 
 
 She had lashed herself in a frenzy, as was her wont, 
 with gestures, ejaculations, oaths, adjurations, and pas- 
 sionate apostrophes, but with this strange and unexpected 
 result. Heretofore she had always been sustained and 
 kept up by an audience of some kind or quality, if only
 
 14 IN THE'CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 perhaps a humble companion ; there had always heen 
 some one she could fascinate or horrify, and she could 
 read her power mirrored in their eyes. Even the half- 
 abstracted indifference of her strange host had been something. 
 But she was alone now. Her words fell on apathetic soli- 
 tude ; she was acting to viewless space. She rushed to the 
 opening, dashed the hanging bark aside, and leaped to the 
 ground. 
 
 She ran forward wildly a few steps, and stopped. 
 
 " Hallo ! " she cried. " Look, 't is I, Teresa ! " 
 
 The profound silence remained unbroken. Her shrill- 
 est tones were lost in an echoless space, even as the 
 smoke of her fire had faded into pure ether. She stretched 
 out her clenched fists as if to defy the pillared austerities 
 of the vaults around her. 
 
 " Come and take me if you dare ! " 
 
 The challenge was unheeded. If she had thrown her- 
 self violently against the nearest tree-trunk, she could not 
 have been stricken more breathless than she was by the 
 compact, embattled solitude that encompassed her. The 
 hopelessness of impressing these cold and passive vaults 
 with her selfish passion filled her with a vague fear. In 
 her rage of the previous night she had not seen the wood 
 in its profound immobility. Left alone with the majesty 
 of those enormous columns, she trembled and turned 
 faint. The silence of the hollow tree she had just quitted 
 seemed to her less awful than the crushing presence of 
 these mute and monstrous witnesses of her weakness. 
 Like a wounded quail, with lowered crest and trailing wing, 
 she crept back to her hiding-place. 
 
 Even then the influence of the wood was still upon her. 
 She picked up the novel she had contemptuously thrown 
 aside, only to let it fall again in utter weariness. For a 
 moment her feminine curiosity was excited by the discov- 
 ery of an old book, in whose blank leaves were pressed a
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 15 
 
 variety of flowers and woodland grasses. As she could 
 not conceive that these had been kept for any but a senti- 
 mental purpose, she was disappointed to find that under- 
 neath each was a sentence in an unknown tongue, that 
 even to her untutored eye did not appear to be the lan- 
 guage of passion. Fnally she rearranged the couch of 
 skins and blankets, and, imparting to it in three clever 
 shakes an entirely different character, lay down to pursue 
 her reveries. But nature asserted herself, and ere she 
 knew it she was fast asleep. 
 
 So intense and prolonged had been her previous excite- 
 ment that, the tension once relieved, she passed into a 
 slumber of exhaustion so deep that she seemed scarce to 
 breathe. High noon succeeded morning, the central shaft 
 received a single ray of upper sunlight, the afternoon came 
 and went, the shadows gathered below, the sunset fires 
 began to eat their way through the groined roof, and she 
 still slept. She slept even when the bark hangings of the 
 chamber were put aside, and the young man reentered. 
 
 He laid down a bundle he was carrying, and softly ap- 
 proached the sleeper. For a moment he was startled from 
 his indifference she lay so still and motionless. But this 
 was not all that struck him : the face before him was no 
 longer the passionate, haggard visage that confronted him 
 that morning ; the feverish air, the burning color, the 
 strained muscles of mouth and brow, and the staring eyes 
 were gone ; wiped away, perhaps, by the tears that still 
 left their traces on cheek and dark eyelash. It was a face 
 of a handsome woman of thirty, with even a suggestion of 
 softness in the contour of the cheek and arching of her 
 upper lip, no longer rigidly drawn down in anger, but re- 
 laxed by sleep on her white teeth. 
 
 With the lithe, soft tread that was habitual to him, the 
 young man moved about, examining the condition of the 
 little chamber and its stock of provisions and necessaries,
 
 16 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 and withdrew presently, to reappear as noiselessly with a 
 tin bucket of water. This done he replenished the little 
 pile of fuel with an armful of hark and pine cones, cast an 
 approving glance ahout him, which included the sleeper, 
 and silently departed. 
 
 It was night when she awoke. She was surrounded by 
 a profound darkness, except where the shaft-like opening 
 made a nebulous mist in the corner in her wooden cavern. 
 Providentially she struggled back to consciousness slowly, so 
 that the solitude and silence came upon her gradually, with 
 a growing realization of the events of the past twenty-four 
 hours, but without a shock. She was alone here, but safe 
 still, and every hour added to her chances of ultimate escape. 
 She remembered to have seen a candle among the articles 
 on the shelf, and she began to grope her way toward the 
 matches. Suddenly she stopped. What was that panting ? 
 
 Was it her own breathing, quickened with a sudden 
 nameless terror ? or was there something outside ? Her 
 heart seemed to stop beating while she listened. Yes ! it 
 was a panting outside a panting now increased, multi- 
 plied, redoubled, mixed with the sounds of rustling, tear- 
 ing, craunching, and occasionally a quick, impatient snarl. 
 She crept on her hands and knees to the opening and looked 
 out. At first the ground seemed to be undulating between 
 her and the opposite tree. But a second glance showed 
 her the black and gray, bristling, tossing backs of tumbling 
 beasts of prey, charging the carcass of the bear that lay at 
 its roots, or contesting fr the prize with gluttonous 
 choked breath, sidelong snarls, arched spines, and recurved 
 tails. One of the boldest had leaped upon a buttressing 
 root of her tree within a foot of the opening. The excite- 
 ment, awe, and terror she had undergone culminated in one 
 wild, maddened scream, that seemed to pierce even the cold 
 depths of the forest, as she dropped on her face, with her 
 hands clasped over her eyes in an agony of fear.
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 17 
 
 Her scream was answered, after a pause, by a sudden 
 volley of firebrands and sparks into the midst of the pant- 
 ing, crowding pack ; a few smothered howls and snaps, 
 and a sudden dispersion of the concourse. In another 
 moment the young man, with a blazing brand in either 
 hand, leaped upon the body of the bear. 
 
 Teresa raised her head, uttered a hysterical cry, slid 
 down the tree, flew wildly to his side, caught convulsively 
 at his sleeve, and fell on her knees beside him. 
 
 " Save me ! save me ! " she gasped, in a voice broken 
 by terror. " Save me from those hideous creatures. No, 
 no ! " she implored, as he endeavored to lift her to her 
 feet. "No let me stay here close beside you. So," 
 clutching the fringe of his leather hunting-shirt, and drag- 
 ging herself on her knees nearer him " so don't leave 
 me, for God's sake ! " 
 
 " They are gone," he replied, gazing down curiously at 
 her, as she wound the fringe around her hand to strengthen 
 her hold ; " they 're only a lot of cowardly coyotes and 
 wolves, that dare not attack anything that lives and can 
 move." 
 
 The young woman responded with a nervous shudder. 
 " Yes, that 's it," she whispered, in a broken voice ; " it 'a 
 only the dead they want. Promise me swear to me, if 
 I 'm caught, or hung, or shot, you won't let me be left 
 here to be torn and ah ! my God ! what 's that ? " 
 
 She had thrown her arms around his knees, completely 
 pinioning him to her frantic breast. Something like a 
 smile of disdain passed across his face as he answered, 
 " It 's nothing. They will not return. Get up ! " 
 
 Even in her terror she saw the change in his face. " I 
 know, I know ! " she cried. " I 'm frightened but I 
 cannot bear it any longer. Hear me ! Listen ! Listen 
 but don't move ! I did n't mean to kill Curson no ! 
 I swear to God, no ! I did n't mean to kill the sheriff
 
 18 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 and I didn't. I was only bragging do you hear? I 
 lied ! I lied don't move, I swear to God I lied. I 've 
 made myself out worse than I was. I have. Only don't 
 leave me now and if I die and it 's not far off, may- 
 be get me away from here and from them. Swear 
 it!" 
 
 "All right," said the young man, with a scarcely con- 
 cealed movement of irritation. " But get up now, and go 
 back to the cabin." 
 
 " No ; not there alone." Nevertheless, he quietly but 
 firmly released himself. 
 
 " I will stay here," he replied. " I would have been 
 nearer to you, but I thought it better for your safety that 
 my camp-fire should be further off. But I can build it 
 here, and that will keep the coyotes off." 
 
 "Let me stay with you beside you," she said im- 
 ploringly. 
 
 She looked so broken, crushed, and spiritless, so unlike 
 the woman of the morning that, albeit with an ill grace, 
 he tacitly consented, and turned away to bring his blan- 
 kets. But in the next moment she was at his side, follow- 
 ing him like a dog, silent and wistful, and even offering 
 to carry his burden. When he had built the fire, for 
 which she had collected the pine cones and broken branches 
 near them, he sat down, folded his arms, and leaned back 
 against the tree in reserved and deliberate silence. Hum- 
 ble and submissive, she did not attempt to break in upon 
 a reverie she could not help but feel had little kindliness 
 to herself. As the fire snapped and sparkled, she pil- 
 lowed her head upon a root, and lay still to watch it. 
 
 It rose and fell, and dying away at times to a mere lurid 
 glow ; and again, agitated by some breath scarcely perceptible 
 to them, quickening into a roaring flame. When only the 
 embers remained, a dead silence filled the wood. Then the 
 first breath of morning moved the tangled canopy above,
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 19 
 
 and a dozen tiny sprays and needles detached from the 
 interlocked boughs winged their soft way noiselessly to the 
 earth. A few fell upon the prostrate woman like a gentle 
 benediction, and she slept. But even then, the young man, 
 looking down, saw that the slender ringers were still aim- 
 lessly but rigidly twisted in the leather fringe of his hunting- 
 shirt.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 IT was a peculiarity of the Carquinez Woods that it stood 
 apart and distinct in its gigantic individuality. Even where 
 the integrity of its own singular species was not entirely 
 preserved, it admitted no inferior trees. Nor was there any 
 diminishing fringe on its outskirts ; the sentinels that guarded 
 the few gateways of the dim trails were as monstrous as the 
 serried ranks drawn up in the heart of the forest. Conse- 
 quently, the red highway that skirted the eastern angle was 
 bare and shadeless, until it slipped a league off into a watered 
 valley and refreshed itself under lesser sycamores and 
 willows. It was here the newly born city of Excelsior, still 
 in its cradle, had, like an infant Hercules, strangled the 
 serpentine North Fork of the American river, and turned its 
 life-current into the ditches and flumes of the Excelsior 
 miners. 
 
 Newest of the new houses that seemed to have acciden- 
 tally formed its single, straggling street was the residence 
 of the Rev. Winslow Wynn, not unfrequently known as 
 " Father Wynn," pastor of the first Baptist church. The 
 t( pastorage," as it was cheerfully called, had the glaring 
 distinction of being built of brick, and was, as had been 
 wickedly pointed out by idle scoffers, the only "fire- 
 proof " structure in town. This sarcasm was not, however, 
 supposed to be particularly distasteful to " Father Wynn," 
 who enjoyed the reputation of being "hail fellow, well 
 met " with the rough mining element, who called them by 
 their Christian names, had been known to drink at the bar 
 of the Polka Saloon while engaged in the conversion of a
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 21 
 
 prominent citizen, and was popularly said to have no 
 " gospel starch " about him. Certain conscious outcasts 
 and transgressors were touched at this apparent unbend- 
 ing of the spiritual authority. The rigid tenets of Father 
 Wynn's faith were lost in the supposed catholicity of his 
 humanity. " A preacher that can jine a man when he 's 
 histin' liquor into him, without jawin' about it, ought to be 
 allowed to wrestle with sinners and splash about in as 
 much cold water as he likes," was the criticism of one of 
 his converts. Nevertheless, it was true that Father Wynn 
 was somewhat loud and intolerant in his tolerance. It was 
 true that he was a little more rough, a little more frank, a 
 little more hearty, a little more impulsive, than his disciples. 
 It was true that often the proclamation of his extreme liber- 
 ality and brotherly equality partook somewhat of an apology. 
 It is true that a few who might have been most benefited 
 by this kind of gospel regarded him with a singular disdain. 
 It is true that his liberality was of an ornamental, insinuat- 
 ing quality, accompanied with but little sacrifice ; his ac- 
 ceptance of a collection taken up in a gambling-saloon for 
 the rebuilding of his church, destroyed by fire, gave him a 
 popularity large enough, it must be confessed, to cover the 
 sins of the gamblers themselves, but it was not proven that 
 he had ever organized any form of relief. But it was true 
 that local history somehow accepted him as an exponent of 
 mining Christianity, without the least reference to the 
 opinions of the Christian miners themselves. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Wynn's liberal habits and opinions were 
 not, however, shared by his only daughter, a motherless 
 young lady of eighteen. Nellie Wynn was in the eye of 
 Excelsior an unapproachable divinity, as inaccessible and 
 cold as her father was impulsive and familiar. An atmos- 
 phere of chaste and proud virginity made itself felt even 
 in the starched integrity of her spotless skirts, in her 
 neatly gloved finger-tips, in her clear amber eyes, in her
 
 22 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 imperious red lips, in her sensitive nostrils. Need it be 
 said that the youth and middle age of Excelsior were 
 madly, because apparently hopelessly, in love with her ? 
 For the rest, she had been expensively educated, was pro- 
 foundly ignorant in two languages, with a trained misun- 
 derstanding of music and painting, and a natural and fault- 
 less taste in dress. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Wynn was engaged in a characteristic 
 hearty parting with one of his latest converts upon his 
 own doorstep, with admirable al fresco effect. He had 
 just clapped him on the shoulder. " Good-by, good-by, 
 Charley, my boy, and keep in the right path ; not up, or 
 down, or round the gulch, you know ha, ha ! but 
 straight across lots to the shining gate." He had raised 
 his voice under the stimulus of a few admiring spectators, 
 and backed his convert playfully against the wall. " You 
 see ! we 're goin' in to win, you bet. Good-by ! I'd ask 
 you to step in and have a chat, but I 've got my work to 
 do, and so have you. The gospel mustn't keep us from 
 that, must it, Charley ? Ha, ha ! " 
 
 The convert (who elsewhere was a profane expressman, 
 and had become quite imbecile under Mr. Wynn's active 
 heartiness and brotherly horse-play before spectators) 
 managed, however, to feebly stammer with a blush some- 
 thing about " Miss Nellie." 
 
 " Ah, Nellie. She, too, is at her tasks trimming her 
 lamp you know, the parable of the wise virgins," con- 
 tinued Father Wynn hastily, fearing that the convert 
 might take the illustration literally. "There, there 
 good-by. Keep in the right path." And with a parting 
 shove he dismissed Charley, and entered his own house. 
 
 That " wise virgin," Nellie, had evidently finished with 
 the lamp, and was now going out to meet the bridegroom, 
 as she was fully dressed and gloved, and had a pink par- 
 asol in her hand, as her father entered the sitting-room.
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 23 
 
 His bluff heartiness seemed to fade away as he removed 
 his soft, broad-brimmed hat and glanced across the too 
 fresh-looking apartment. There was a smell of mortar 
 still in the air, and a faint suggestion that at any moment 
 green grass might appear between the interstices of the red- 
 brick hearth. The room, yielding a little in the point of 
 coldness, seemed to share Miss Nellie's fresh virginity, and, 
 barring the pink parasol, set her off as in a vestal's cell. 
 
 " I supposed you would n't care to see Brace, the ex- 
 pressman, so I got rid of him at the door," said her father, 
 drawing one of the new chairs towards him slowly, and 
 sitting down carefully, as if it were a hitherto untried ex- 
 periment. 
 
 Miss Nellie's face took a tint of interest. " Then he 
 does n't go with the coach to Indian Spring to-day ? " 
 
 "No; why?" 
 
 " I thought of going over myself to get the Burnham 
 girls to come to choir-meeting," replied Miss Nellie care- 
 lessly, " and he might have been company." 
 
 " He 'd go now if he knew you were going," said her 
 father ; " but it 's just as well he should n't be needlessly 
 encouraged. I rather think that Sheriff, Dunn is a little 
 jealous of him. By the way, the sheriff is much better. 
 I called to cheer him up to-day " (Mr. Wynn had in fact 
 tumultuously accelerated the sick man's pulse), " and he 
 talked of you, as usual. In fact, he said he had only two 
 things to get well for. One was to catch and hang that 
 woman Teresa, who shot him ; the other can't you guess 
 the other ? " he added archly, with a faint suggestion of 
 his other manner. 
 
 Miss Nellie coldly could not. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Wynn's archness vanished. " Don't be 
 a fool," he said dryly. " He wants to marry you, and you 
 know it." 
 
 " Most of the men here do," responded Miss Nellie, with-
 
 24 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 out the least trace of coquetry. " Is the wedding or the 
 hanging to take place first, or together, so he can offici- 
 ate at both ? " 
 
 " His share in the Union Ditch is worth a hundred 
 thousand dollars," continued her father ; " and if he is n't 
 nominated for district judge this fall, he 's bound to go to 
 the legislature, anyway. I don't think a girl with your 
 advantages and education can afford to throw away the 
 chance of shining in Sacramento, San Francisco, or, in good 
 time, perhaps even Washington." 
 
 Miss Nellie's eyes did not reflect entire disapproval of 
 this suggestion, although she replied with something of her 
 father's practical quality. 
 
 "Mr. Dunn is not out of his bed yet, and they say 
 Teresa 's got away to Arizona, so there is n't any particular 
 hurry." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but see here, Nellie, I 've some impor- 
 tant news for you. You know your young friend of the 
 Carquinez Woods Dorman, the botanist, eh ? Well, 
 Brace knows all about him. And what do you think he 
 is?" 
 
 Miss Nellie took upon herself a few extra degrees of 
 cold, and did n't know. 
 
 " An Injin ! Yes, an out-and-out Cherokee. You see 
 he calls himself Dorman Low Dorman. That 's only 
 French for ' Sleeping Water,' his Injin name ' Low Dor- 
 man.' " 
 
 " You mean < L'Eau Dormante,' " said Nellie. 
 
 " That 's what I said. The chief called him ' Sleeping 
 Water ' when he was a boy, and one of them French 
 Canadian trappers translated it into French when he 
 brought him to California to school. But he 's an Injin, 
 sure. No wonder he prefers to live in the woods." 
 
 Well ? said Nellie. 
 
 " Well," echoed her father impatiently, " he 's an Injin,
 
 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 25 
 
 I tell you, and you can't of course have anything to do 
 with him. He mustn't come here again." 
 
 " But you forget," said Nellie imperturbably, " that it 
 was you who invited him here, and were so much exer- 
 cised over him. You remember you introduced him to 
 the bishop and those Eastern clergymen as a magnificent 
 specimen of a young Californian. You forget what an oc- 
 casion you made of his coming to church on Sunday, and 
 how you made him come in his buckskin shirt and walk 
 down the street with you after service ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said the Rev. Mr. Wynn hurriedly. 
 
 "And," continued Nellie carelessly, "how you made 
 us sing out of the same book ' Children of our Father's 
 Fold,' and how you preached at him until he actually got 
 a color ! " 
 
 " Yes," said her father ; " but it was n't known then he 
 was an Injin, and they are frightfully unpopular with those 
 Southwestern men among whom we labor. Indeed, I am 
 quite convinced that when Brace said ' the only good 
 Indian was a dead one ' his expression, though extravagant, 
 perhaps, really voiced the sentiments of the majority. It 
 would be only kindness to the unfortunate creature to 
 warn him from exposing himself to their rude but consci- 
 entious antagonism." 
 
 " Perhaps you 'd better tell him, then, in your own 
 popular way, which they all seem to understand so well," 
 responded the daughter. Mr. Wynn cast a quick glance 
 at her, but there was no trace of irony in her face no- 
 thing but a half-bored indifference as she walked toward the 
 window. 
 
 " I will go with you to the coach-office," said her father, 
 who generally gave these simple paternal duties the pro- 
 nounced character of a public Christian example. 
 
 " It 's hardly worth while," replied Miss Nellie. " I 've 
 to stop at the Watsons', at the foot of the hill, and ask
 
 26 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 after the baby ; so I shall go on to the Crossing and pick 
 up the coach as it passes. Good-by." 
 
 Nevertheless, as soon as Nellie had departed, the Rev. 
 Mr. Wynn proceeded to the coach-office, and publicly 
 grasping the hand of Yuba Bill, the driver, commended 
 his daughter to his care in the name of the universal 
 brotherhood of man and the Christian fraternity. Carried 
 away by his heartiness, he forgot his previous caution, and 
 confided to the expressman Miss Nellie's regrets that she 
 was not to have that gentleman's company. The result 
 was that Miss Nellie found the coach with its passengers 
 awaiting her with uplifted hats and wreathed smiles at the 
 Crossing, and the box-seat (from which an unfortunate 
 stranger, who had expensively paid for it, had been sum- 
 marily ejected) at her service, beside Yuba Bill, who had 
 thrown away his cigar and donned a new pair of buckskin 
 gloves to do her honor. But a more serious result to the 
 young beauty was the effect of the Rev. Mr. Wynn's con- 
 fidences upon the impulsive heart of Jack Brace, the ex- 
 pressman. It has been already intimated that it was his 
 " day off." Unable to summarily reassume his usual func- 
 tions beside the driver without some practical reason, and 
 ashamed to go so palpably as a mere passenger, he was 
 forced to let the coach proceed without him. Discomfited 
 for the moment, he was not, however, beaten. He had 
 lost the blissful journey by her side, which would have 
 been his professional right, but she was going to Indian 
 Spring ! could he not anticipate her there ? Might they 
 not meet in the most accidental manner ? And what 
 might not come from that meeting away from the prying 
 eyes of their own town ? Mr. Brace did not hesitate, but 
 saddling his fleet Buckskin, by the time the stage-coach 
 had passed the Crossing in the highroad he had mounted 
 the hill and was dashing along the " cut-off " in the same 
 direction, a full mile in advance. Arriving at Indian
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 27 
 
 Spring, he left his horse at a Mexican posada on the con- 
 fines of the settlement, and from the piled de'bris of a 
 tunnel excavation awaited the slow arrival of the coach. 
 On mature reflection he could give no reason why he had 
 not boldly awaited it at the express-office, except a certain 
 bashful consciousness of his own folly, and a belief that it 
 might be glaringly apparent to the bystanders. When the 
 coach arrived and he had overcome this consciousness, it 
 was too late. Yuba Bill had discharged his passengers for 
 Indian Spring, and driven away. Miss Nellie was in the 
 settlement, but where ? As time passed he became more 
 desperate and bolder. He walked recklessly up and down 
 the main street, glancing in at the open doors of shops, 
 and even in the windows of private dwellings. It might 
 have seemed a poor compliment to Miss Nellie, but it was 
 an evidence of his complete preoccupation, when the sight 
 of a female face at a window, even though it was plain or 
 perhaps painted, caused his heart to bound, or the glancing 
 of a skirt in the distance quickened his feet and his pulses. 
 Had Jack contented himself with remaining at Excelsior 
 he might have vaguely regretted, but as soon become as 
 vaguely accustomed to, Miss Nellie's absence. But it was 
 not until his hitherto quiet and passive love took this first 
 step of action that it fully declared itself. When he had 
 made the tour of the town a dozen times unsuccessfully, 
 he had perfectly made up his mind that marriage with 
 Nellie or the speedy death of several people, including 
 possibly himself, was the only alternative. He regretted 
 he had not accompanied her ; he regretted he had not 
 demanded where she was going ; he contemplated a course 
 of future action that two hours ago would have filled him 
 with bashful terror. There was clearly but one thing to 
 do, to declare his passion the instant he met her, and 
 return with her to Excelsior an accepted suitor, or not to 
 return at all.
 
 28 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 Suddenly he was vexatiously conscious of hearing his 
 name lazily called, and looking up found that he was on 
 the outskirts of the town, and interrogated by two horse- 
 men. 
 
 " Got down to walk, and the coach got away from you, 
 Jack, eh ? " 
 
 A little ashamed of his preoccupation, Brace stammered 
 something ahout " collections." He did not recognize the 
 men, but his own face, name, and business were familiar to 
 everybody for fifty miles along the stage-road. 
 
 " Well, you can settle a bet for us, I reckon. Bill Dacre 
 thar bet me five dollars and the drinks that a young gal we 
 met at the edge of the Carquinez Woods, dressed in a 
 long brown duster and half-muffled up in a hood, was the 
 daughter of Father Wynn of Excelsior. I did not get a 
 fair look at her, but it stands to reason that a high-toned 
 young lady like Nellie Wynn don't go trap'sing along the 
 wood like a Pike County tramp. I took the bet. May be 
 you know if she 's here or in Excelsior ? " 
 
 Mr. Brace felt himself turning pale with eagerness and 
 excitement. But the near prospect of seeing her presently 
 gave him back his caution, and he answered truthfully that 
 he had left her in Excelsior, and that in his two hours' 
 sojourn in Indian Spring he had not once met her. 
 " But," he added, with a Californian's reverence for the 
 sanctity of a bet, " I reckon you 'd better make it a stand- 
 off for twenty-four hours, and I'll find out and let you 
 know ; " which, it is only fair to say, he honestly intended 
 to do. 
 
 With a hurried nod of parting, he continued in the 
 direction of the woods. When he had satisfied himself 
 that the strangers had entered the settlement and would 
 not follow him for further explanation, he quickened his 
 pace. In half an hour he passed between two of the 
 gigantic sentinels that guarded the entrance to a trail.
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 29 
 
 Here he paused to collect his thoughts. The woods were 
 vast in extent, the trail dim and uncertain at times 
 apparently breaking off, or intersecting another trail as faint 
 as itself. Believing that Miss Nellie had diverged from the 
 highway only as a momentary excursion into the shade, and 
 that she would not dare to penetrate its more sombre and 
 unknown recesses, he kept within sight of the skirting 
 plain. By degrees the sedate influence of the silent vaults 
 seemed to depress him. The ardor of the chase began to 
 flag. Under the calm of their dim roof the fever of his 
 veins began to subside ; his pace slackened ; he reasoned 
 more deliberately. It was by no means probable that the 
 young woman in a brown duster was Nellie ; it was not 
 her habitual traveling-dress ; it was not like her to walk 
 unattended in the road ; there was nothing in her tastes 
 and habits to take her into this gloomy forest, allowing 
 that she had even entered it ; and on this absolute ques- 
 tion of her identity the two witnesses were divided. He 
 stopped irresolutely, and cast a last, long, half-despairing 
 look around him. Hitherto he had given that part of 
 the wood nearest the plain his greatest attention. His 
 glance now sought its darker recesses. Suddenly he be- 
 came breathless. Was it a beam of sunlight that had 
 pierced the groined roof above, and now rested against 
 the trunk of one of the dimmer, more secluded giants ? 
 No, it was moving ; even as he gazed it slipped away, 
 glanced against another tree, passed across one of the 
 vaulted aisles, and then was lost again. Brief as was the 
 glimpse, he was not mistaken it was the figure of a 
 woman. 
 
 In another moment he was on her track, and soon had 
 the satisfaction of seeing her reappear at a lesser distance. 
 But the continual intervention of the massive trunks made 
 the chase by no means an easy one, and as he could not 
 keep her always in sight he was unable to follow or under-
 
 80 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 stand the one intelligent direction which she seemed to 
 invariably keep. Nevertheless, he gained upon her breath- 
 lessly, and, thanks to the bark- strewn floor, noiselessly. 
 He was near enough to distinguish and recognize the dress 
 she wore, a pale yellow, that he had admired when he first 
 saw her. It was Nellie, unmistakably ; if it were she of 
 the brown duster, she had discarded it, perhaps for greater 
 freedom. He was near enough to call out now, but a sud- 
 den nervous timidity overcame him ; his lips grew dry. 
 What should he say to her ? How account for his pre- 
 sence ? " Miss Nellie, one moment ! " he gasped. She 
 darted forward and vanished. 
 
 At this moment he was not more than a dozen yards 
 from her. He rushed to where she had been standing, but 
 her disappearance was perfect and complete. He made a 
 circuit of the group of trees within whose radius she had 
 last appeared, but there was neither trace of her, nor sug- 
 gestion of her mode of escape. He called aloud to her ; 
 the vacant woods let his helpless voice die in their unre- 
 sponsive depths. He gazed into the air and down at the 
 bark-strewn carpet at his feet. Like most of his vocation, 
 he was sparing of speech, and epigrammatic after his fashion. 
 Comprehending in one swift but despairing flash of intel- 
 ligence the existence of some fateful power beyond his own 
 weak endeavor, he accepted its logical result with character- 
 istic grimness, threw his hat upon the ground, put his 
 hands in his pockets, and said, 
 
 "Well, I'm d-d 1"
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 OUT of compliment to Miss Nellie Wynn, Yuba Bill, on 
 reaching Indian Spring, had made a slight de'tour to enable 
 him to ostentatiously set down his fair passenger before the 
 door of the Burnhams. When it had closed on the admiring 
 eyes of the passengers and the coach had rattled away, 
 Miss Nellie, without any undue haste or apparent change 
 in her usual quiet demeanor, managed, however, to dispatch 
 her business promptly, and, leaving an impression that she 
 would call again before her return to Excelsior, parted from 
 her friends, and slipped away through a side street to the 
 General Furnishing Store of Indian Spring. In passing 
 this emporium, Miss Nellie's quick eye had discovered a 
 cheap brown linen duster hanging in its window. To pur- 
 chase it, and put it over her delicate cambric dress, albeit 
 with a shivering sense that she looked like a badly folded 
 brown paper parcel, did not take long. As she left the shop 
 it was with mixed emotions of chagrin and security that 
 she noticed that her passage through the settlement no 
 longer turned the heads of its male inhabitants. She 
 reached the outskirts of Indian Spring and the highroad 
 at about the time Mr. Brace had begun his fruitless patrol 
 of the main street. Ear in the distance a faint olive-green 
 table mountain seemed to rise abruptly from the plain. 
 It was the Carquinez Woods. Gathering her spotless skirts 
 beneath her extemporized brown domino, she set out briskly 
 towards them. 
 
 But her progress was scarcely free or exhilarating. She 
 was not accustomed to walking in a country where " buggy-
 
 32 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 riding" was considered the only genteel young-lady-like mode 
 of progression, and its regular provision the expected cour- 
 tesy of mankind. Always fastidiously booted, her low- 
 quartered shoes were charming to the eye, but hardly 
 adapted to the dust and inequalities of the highroad. It 
 was true that she had thought of buying a coarser pair at 
 Indian Spring, but once face to face with their uncompro- 
 mising ugliness, she had faltered and fled. The sun was 
 unmistakably hot, but her parasol was too well known and 
 offered too violent a contrast to the duster for practical use. 
 Once she stopped with an exclamation of annoyance, hesitated, 
 and looked back. In half an hour she had twice lost her shoe 
 and her temper ; a pink flush took possession of her cheeks, 
 and her eyes were bright with suppressed rage. Dust 
 began to form grimy circles around their orbits ; with cat-like 
 shivers she even felt it pervade the roots of her blonde hair. 
 Gradually her breath grew more rapid and hysterical, hex- 
 smarting eyes became humid, and at last, encountering two 
 observant horsemen in the road, she turned and fled, until, 
 reaching the wood, she began to cry. 
 
 Nevertheless she waited for the two horsemen to pass, to 
 satisfy herself that she was not followed ; then pushed on 
 vaguely, until she reached a fallen tree, where, with a 
 gesture of disgust, she tore off her hapless duster and flung 
 it on. the ground. She then sat down sobbing, but after a 
 moment dried her eyes hurriedly and started to her feet. 
 A few paces distant, erect, noiseless, with outstretched hand, 
 the young solitary of the Carquinez Woods advanced towards 
 her. His hand had almost touched hers, when he stopped. 
 
 " What has happened ? " he asked gravely. 
 
 "Nothing," she said, turning half away, and searching 
 the ground with her eyes as if she had lost something. 
 ' Only I must be going back now." 
 
 (t You shall go back at once, if you wish it," he said, 
 flushing slightly. " But you have been crying ; why ? "
 
 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 33 
 
 Prank as Miss Nellie wished to be, she could not bring 
 herself to say that her feet hurt her, and the dust and heat 
 were ruining her complexion. It was therefore with a half- 
 confident belief that her troubles were really of a moral 
 quality that she answered, "Nothing nothing, but but 
 it's wrong to come here." 
 
 " But you did not think it was wrong when you agreed 
 to come, at our last meeting," said the young man, with 
 that persistent logic which exasperates the inconsequent 
 feminine mind. " It cannot be any more wrong to-day." 
 
 " But it was not so far off," murmured the young girl, 
 without looking up. 
 
 " Oh, the distance makes it more improper, then," he 
 said abstractedly ; but after a moment's contemplation of 
 her half-averted face, he asked gravely, " Has any one 
 talked to you about me ? " 
 
 Ten minutes before, Nellie had. been burning to unbur- 
 den herself of her father's warning, but now she felt she 
 would not. "I wish you wouldn't call yourself Low," 
 she said at last. 
 
 " But it 's my name," he replied quietly. 
 
 " Nonsense ! It 's only a stupid translation of a stupid 
 nickname. They might as well call you ' Water ' at once." 
 
 " But you said you liked it." 
 
 " Well, so I do. But don't you see I oh dear ! 
 you don't understand." 
 
 Low did not reply, but turned his head with resigned 
 gravity towards the deeper woods. Grasping the barrel of 
 his rifle with his left hand, he threw his right arm across 
 his left wrist and leaned slightly upon it with the habitual 
 ease of a Western hunter doubly picturesque in his own 
 lithe, youthful symmetry. Miss Nellie looked at him from 
 under her eyelids, and then half defiantly raised her head 
 and her dark lashes. Gradually an almost magical change 
 came over her features ; her eyes grew larger and more and
 
 34 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 more yearning, until they seemed to draw and absorb in 
 their liquid depths the figure of the young man before her ; 
 her cold face broke into an ecstasy of light and color; her 
 humid lips parted in a bright, welcoming smile, until, with 
 an irresistible impulse, she arose, and throwing back her 
 head stretched towards him two hands full of vague and 
 trembling passion. 
 
 In another moment he had seized them, kissed them, 
 and, as he drew her closer to his embrace, felt them tighten 
 around his neck. "But what name do you wish to call 
 me ? " he asked, looking down into her eyes. 
 
 Miss Nellie murmured something confidentially to the 
 third button of his hunting-shirt. " But that," he replied, 
 with a faint smile, " that would n't be any more practical, 
 and you would n't want others to call me dar " Her 
 fingers loosened around his neck, she drew her head back, 
 and a singular expression passed over her face, which to 
 any calmer observer than a lover would have seemed, how- 
 ever, to indicate more curiosity than jealousy. 
 
 " Who else does call you so ? " she added earnestly. 
 " How many, for instance ? " 
 
 Low's reply was addressed not to her ear, but her lips. 
 She did not avoid it, but added, " And do you kiss them 
 all like that ? " Taking him by the shoulders, she held 
 him a little way from her, and gazed at him from head to 
 foot. Then drawing him again to her embrace, she said, " I 
 don't care ; at least no woman has kissed you like that." 
 Happy, dazzled, and embarrassed, he was beginning to 
 stammer the truthful protestation that rose to his lips, but 
 she stopped him : " No, don't protest ! say nothing ! Let 
 me love you that is all. It is enough." He would 
 have caught her in his arms again, but she drew back. 
 " We are near the road," she said quietly. " Come ! you 
 promised to show me where you camped. Let us make the 
 most of our holiday. In an hour I must leave the woods."
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 35 
 
 " But I shall accompany you, dearest." 
 
 " No, I must go as I came alone." 
 
 " But Nellie " 
 
 "I tell you no," she said, with an almost harsh prac- 
 tical decision, incompatible with her previous abandonment. 
 " We might be seen together." 
 
 " Well, suppose we are ; we must be seen together 
 eventually," he remonstrated. 
 
 , The young girl made an involuntary gesture of impa- 
 tient negation, but checked herself. " Don't let us talk of 
 that now. Come, while I am here under your own roof " 
 
 she pointed to the high interlaced boughs above them 
 " you must be hospitable. Show me your home ; tell me, 
 is n't it a little gloomy sometimes ? " 
 
 " It never has been ; I never thought it would be until 
 the moment you leave it to-day." 
 
 She pressed his hand briefly and in a half-perfunctory 
 way, as if her vanity had accepted and dismissed the com- 
 pliment. " Take me somewhere," she said inquisitively, 
 " where you stay most ; I do not seem to see you here" 
 she added, looking around her with a slight shiver. " It 
 is so big and so high. Have you no place where you eat 
 and rest and sleep ? " 
 
 ''Except in the rainy season, I camp all over the place 
 
 at any spot where I may have been shooting or collect- 
 ing." 
 
 " Collecting ? " queried Nellie. 
 
 " Yes ; with the herbarium, you know." 
 
 " Yes," said Nellie dubiously. " But you told me once 
 
 the first time we ever talked together," she added, 
 looking in his eyes " something about your keeping your 
 things like a squirrel in a tree. Could we not go there ? 
 Is there not room for us to sit and talk without being brow- 
 beaten and looked down upon by these supercilious trees ? " 
 
 " It 's too far away," said Low truthfully, but with a
 
 36 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 somewhat pronounced emphasis, " much too far for you 
 just now ; and it lies on another trail that enters the wood 
 beyond. But come, I will show you a spring known only 
 to myself, the wood ducks, and the squirrels. I discov- 
 ered it the first day I saw you, and gave it your name. 
 But you shall christen it yourself. It will be all yours, 
 and yours alone, for it is so hidden and secluded that I 
 defy any feet but my own, or whoso shall keep step with 
 mine, to find it. Shall that foot be yours, Nellie ? " 
 
 Her face beamed with a bright assent. " It may be 
 difficult to track it from here," he said, " but stand where 
 you are a moment, and don't move, rustle, nor agitate the 
 air in any way. The woods are still now." He turned at 
 right angles with the trail, moved a few paces into the 
 ferns and underbrush, and then stopped with his finger on 
 his lips. For an instant both remained motionless ; then, 
 with his intent face bent forward and both arms extended, 
 he began to sink slowly upon one knee and one side, in- 
 clining his body with a gentle, perfectly graduated move- 
 ment until his ear almost touched the ground. Nellie 
 watched his graceful figure breathlessly, until, like a bow 
 unbent, he stood suddenly erect again, and beckoned to her 
 without changing the direction of his face. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked eagerly. 
 
 " All right ; I have found it," he continued, moving for- 
 ward without turning his head. 
 
 " But how ? What did you kneel for ? " He did not 
 reply, but taking her hand in his, continued to move 
 slowly on through the underbrush, as if obeying some 
 magnetic attraction. " How did you find it ? " again asked 
 the half -awed girl, her voice unconsciously falling to a 
 whisper. Still silent, Low kept his rigid face and forward 
 tread for twenty yards further; then he stopped and re- 
 leased the girl's half-impatient hand. " How did you find 
 it ? " she repeated sharply.
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 37 
 
 " With my ears and nose," replied Low gravely. 
 
 " With your nose ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I smelt it." 
 
 Still fresh with the memory of his picturesque attitude, 
 the young man's reply seemed to involve something more 
 irritating to her feelings than even that absurd anti-climax. 
 She looked at him coldly and critically, and appeared to 
 hesitate whether to proceed. " Is it far ? " she asked. 
 
 " Not more than ten minutes now, as I shall go." 
 
 "And you won't have to smell your way again ? " 
 
 " No ; it is quite plain now," he answered seriously, 
 the young girl's sarcasm slipping harmlessly from his 
 Indian stolidity. " Don't you smell it yourself ? " 
 
 But Miss Nellie's thin, cold nostrils refused to take that 
 vulgar interest. 
 
 " Nor hear it ? Listen ! " 
 
 "You forget I suffer the misfortune of having been 
 brought up under a roof," she replied coldly. 
 
 " That 's true," repeated Low, in all seriousness ; " it 's 
 not your fault. But do you know, I sometimes think I am 
 peculiarly sensitive to water ; I feel it miles away. At 
 night, though I may not see it or even know where it is, 
 I am conscious of it. It is company to me when I am 
 alone, and I seem to hear it in my dreams. There is no 
 music as sweet to me as its song. When you sang with 
 me that day in church, I seemed to hear it ripple in your 
 voice. It says to me more than the birds do, more than 
 the rarest plants I find. It seems to live with me and for 
 me. It is my earliest recollection ; I know it will be my 
 last, for I shall die in its embrace. Do you think, Nellie," 
 he continued, stopping short and gazing earnestly in her 
 face "do you think that the chiefs knew this when 
 they called me ' Sleeping Water ' ? " 
 
 To Miss Nellie's several gifts I fear the gods had not 
 added poetry. A slight knowledge of English verse of a
 
 38 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 select character, unfortunately, did not assist her in the in- 
 terpretation of the young man's speech, nor relieve her from 
 the momentary feeling that he was at times deficient in 
 intellect. She preferred, however, to take a personal view 
 of the question, and expressed her sarcastic regret that she 
 had not known before that she had been indebted to the 
 great flume and ditch at Excelsior for the pleasure of his 
 acquaintance. This pert remark occasioned some explana- 
 tion, which ended in the girl's accepting a kiss in lieu of 
 more logical argument. Nevertheless, she was still con- 
 scious of an inward irritation always distinct from her 
 singular and perfectly material passion which found vent 
 as the difficulties of their undeviating progress through the 
 underbrush increased. At last she lost her shoe again, and 
 stopped short. " It 's a pity your Indian friends did not 
 christen you ' Wild Mustard ' or ' Clover,' " she said satiri- 
 cally, " that you might have had some sympathies and 
 longings for the open fields instead of these horrid jungles ! 
 I know we will not get back in time." 
 
 Unfortunately, Low accepted this speech literally and 
 with his remorseless gravity. " If my name annoys you, I 
 can get it changed by the legislature, you know, and I can 
 find out what my father's name was, and take that. My 
 mother, who died in giving me birth, was the daughter of a 
 chief." 
 
 " Then your mother was really an Indian ? " said Nel- 
 lie, " and you are " She stopped short. 
 
 " But I told you all this the day we first met," said 
 Low, with grave astonishment. " Don't you remember 
 our long talk coming from church ? " 
 
 "No," said Nellie coldly, "you didn't tell me." But 
 she was obliged to drop her eyes before the unwavering, 
 undeniable truthfulness of his. 
 
 " You have forgotten," he said calmly ; " but it is only 
 right you should have your own way in disposing of a
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 39 
 
 name that I have cared little for ; and as you 're to have 
 a share of it " 
 
 " Yes, but it 'a getting late, and if we are not going 
 forward " interrupted the girl impatiently. 
 
 " We are going forward," said Low imperturbably ; 
 " but I wanted to tell you, as we were speaking on that 
 subject " (Nellie looked at her watch), " I 've been offered 
 the place of botanist and naturalist in Professor Grant's 
 survey of Mount Shasta, and if I take it why, when I 
 come back, darling well " 
 
 " But you 're not going just yet," broke in Nellie, with 
 a new expression in her face. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then we need not talk of it now," she said with ani- 
 mation. 
 
 Her sudden vivacity relieved him. " I see what 's the 
 matter," he said gently, looking down at her feet, " these 
 little shoes were not made to keep step with a moccasin. 
 We must try another way." He stooped as if to secure 
 the erring buskin, but suddenly lifted her like a child to 
 his shoulder. " There," he continued, placing her arm 
 around his neck, " you are clear of the ferns and brambles 
 now, and we can go on. Are you comfortable ? " He 
 looked up, read her answer in her burning eyes and the 
 warm lips pressed to his forehead at the roots of his 
 straight dark hair, and again moved onward as in a mes- 
 meric dream. But he did not swerve from his direct 
 course, and with a final dash through the undergrowth 
 parted the leafy curtain before the spring. 
 
 At first the young girl was dazzled by the strong light 
 that came from a rent in the interwoven arches of the 
 wood. The breach had been caused by the huge bulk 
 of one of the great giants that had half fallen, and was 
 lying at a steep angle against one of its mightiest brethren, 
 having borne down a lesser tree in the arc of its down-
 
 40 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 ward path. Two of the roots, as large as younger trees, 
 tossed their blackened and bare limbs high in the air. 
 The spring the insignificant cause of this vast disrup- 
 tion gurgled, flashed, and sparkled at the base ; the 
 limpid baby fingers that had laid bare the foundations of 
 that fallen column played with the still clinging rootlets, 
 laved the fractured and twisted limbs, and, widening, 
 filled with sleeping water the graves from which they had 
 been torn. 
 
 " It had been going on for years, down there," said 
 Low, pointing to a cavity from which the fresh water now 
 slowly welled, " but it had been quickened by the rising 
 of the subterranean springs and rivers which always oc- 
 curs at a certain stage of the dry season. I remember 
 that on that very night for it happened a little after 
 midnight, when all sounds are more audible I was 
 troubled and oppressed in my sleep by what you would 
 call a nightmare ; a feeling as if I was kept down by 
 bonds and pinions that I longed to break. And then I 
 heard a crash in this direction, and the first streak of 
 morning brought me the sound and scent of water. Six 
 months afterwards I chanced to find my way here, as I 
 told you, and gave it your name. I did not dream that I 
 should ever stand beside it with you, and have you christen 
 it yourself." 
 
 He unloosed the cup from his flask, and filling it at 
 the spring handed it to her. But the young girl leant 
 over the pool, and pouring the water idly back said, " I 'd 
 rather put my feet in it. May n't I ? " 
 
 " I don't understand you," he said wonderingly. 
 
 " My feet are so hot and dusty. The water looks de- 
 liciously cool. May I ? " 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 He turned away as Nellie, with apparent unconscious- 
 ness, seated herself on the bank, and removed her shoes
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 41 
 
 and stockings. When she had dabbled her feet a few 
 moments in the pool, she said over her shoulder, 
 
 We can talk just as well, can't we ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Well, then, why did n't you come to church more 
 often, and why did n't you think of telling father that you 
 were convicted of sin and wanted to be baptized ? " 
 
 " I don't know," hesitated the young man. 
 
 " Well, you lost the chance of having father convert 
 you, baptize you, and take you into full church fellow- 
 ship." 
 
 " I never thought " he began. 
 
 " You never thought. Are n't you a Christian ? " 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " He supposes so ! Have you no convictions no pro- 
 fessions ? " 
 
 " But, Nellie, I never thought that you " 
 
 " Never thought that I what ? Do you think that I 
 could ever be anything to a man who did not believe in 
 justification by faith, or in the covenant of church fellow- 
 ship ? Do you think father would let me ? " 
 
 In his eagerness to defend himself he stepped to her 
 side. But seeing her little feet shining through the dark 
 water, like outcroppings of delicately veined quartz, he 
 stopped embarrassed. Miss Nellie, however, leaped to 
 one foot, and, shaking the other over the pool, put her 
 hand on his shoulder to steady herself. "You haven't 
 got a towel or," she said dubiously, looking at her 
 small handkerchief, " anything to dry them on ? " 
 
 But Low did not, as she perhaps expected, offer his 
 own handkerchief. 
 
 " If you take a bath after our fashion," he said gravely, 
 " you must learn to dry yourself after our fashion." 
 
 Lifting her again lightly in his arms, he carried her a 
 few steps to the sunny opening, and bade her bury her
 
 42 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 feet in the dried mosses and baked withered grasses that 
 were bleaching in a hollow. The young girl uttered a 
 cry of childish delight, as the soft ciliated fibres touched 
 her sensitive skin. 
 
 " It is healing, too," continued Low ; " a moccasin 
 filled with it after a day on the trail makes you all right 
 again." 
 
 But Miss Nellie seemed to be thinking of something 
 else. 
 
 "Is that the way the squaws bathe and dry them- 
 selves ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; you forget I was a boy when I left 
 them." 
 
 " And you 're sure you never knew any ? " 
 
 "None." 
 
 The young girl seemed to derive some satisfaction in 
 moving her feet up and down for several minutes among 
 the grasses in the hollow ; then, after a pause, said, " You 
 are quite certain I am the first woman that ever touched 
 this spring ? " 
 
 " Not only the first woman, but the first human being, 
 except myself." 
 
 " How nice ! " 
 
 They had taken each other's hands ; seated side by 
 side, they leaned against a curving elastic root that half 
 supported, half encompassed them. The girl's capri- 
 cious, fitful manner succumbed as before to the near con- 
 tact of her companion. Looking into her eyes, Low fell 
 into a sweet, selfish lover's monologue, descriptive of his 
 past and present feelings toward her, which she accepted 
 with a heightened color, a slight exchange of sentiment, 
 and a strange curiosity. The sun had painted their half- 
 embraced silhouettes against the slanting tree-trunk, and 
 began to decline unnoticed ; the ripple of the water 
 mingling with their whispers came as one sound to the
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 43 
 
 listening ear ; even their eloquent silences were as deep, 
 and, I wot, perhaps as dangerous as the darkened pool 
 that filled so noiselessly a dozen yards away. So quiet 
 were they that the tremor of invading wings once or 
 twice shook the silence, or the quick scamper of fright- 
 ened feet rustled the dead grass. But in the midst of a 
 prolonged stillness the young man sprang up so suddenly 
 that Nellie was still half clinging to his neck as he stood 
 erect. " Hush ! " he whispered ; " some one is near ! " 
 
 He disengaged her anxious hands gently, leaped upon the 
 slanting tree-trunk, and running half way up its incline with 
 the agility of a squirrel, stretched himself at full length 
 upon it, and listened. 
 
 To the impatient, inexplicably startled girl, it seemed an 
 age before he rejoined her. 
 
 " You are safe," he said ; " he 's going by the western 
 trail toward Indian Spring." 
 
 " Who is he ? " she asked, biting her lips with a poorly 
 restrained gesture of mortification and disappointment. 
 
 " Some stranger," replied Low. 
 
 " As long as he was n't coming here, why did you give 
 me such a fright ? " she said pettishly. " Are you nervous 
 because a single wayfarer happens to stray here ? " 
 
 " It was no wayfarer, for he tried to keep near the 
 trail," said Low. " He was a stranger to the wood, for he 
 lost his way every now and then. He was seeking or ex- 
 pecting some one, for he stopped frequently and waited or 
 listened. He had not walked far, for he wore spurs that 
 tinkled and caught in the brush ; and yet he had not rid- 
 den here, for no horse's hoofs passed the road since we 
 have been here. He must have come from Indian 
 Spring." 
 
 " And you heard all that when you listened just now ? " 
 asked Nellie half disdainfully. 
 
 Impervious to her incredulity, Low turned his calm eyes
 
 44 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 on her face. " Certainly, I '11 bet my life on what I say. 
 Tell me ; do you know anybody in Indian Spring who 
 would likely spy upon you ? " 
 
 The young girl was conscious of a certain ill-defined 
 uneasiness, but answered, " No." 
 
 " Then it was not you he wa.s seeking," said Low 
 thoughtfully. Miss Nellie had not time to notice the 
 emphasis, for he added, " You must go at once ; and lest 
 you have been followed I will show you another way back 
 to Indian Spring. It is longer, and you must hasten. 
 Take your shoes and stockings with you until we are out 
 of the bush." 
 
 He raised her again in his arms and strode once more 
 out through the covert into the dim aisles of the wood. 
 
 They spoke but little ; she could not help feeling that 
 some other discordant element, affecting him more strongly 
 than it did her, had come between them, and was half 
 perplexed and half frightened. At the end of ten minutes 
 he seated her upon a fallen branch, and telling her he 
 would return by the time she had resumed her shoes and 
 stockings glided from her like a shadow. She would have 
 uttered an indignant protest at being left alone, but he 
 was gone ere she could detain him. For a moment she 
 thought she hated him. But when she had mechanically 
 shod herself once more, not without nervous shivers at 
 every falling needle, he was at her side. 
 
 "Do you know any one who wears a frieze coat like 
 that ? " he asked, handing her a few torn shreds of wool 
 affixed to a splinter of bark. 
 
 Miss Nellie instantly recognized the material of a certain 
 sporting-coat worn by Mr. Jack Brace on festive occasions, 
 but a strange yet infallible instinct that was part of her 
 nature made her instantly disclaim all knowledge of it. 
 
 " No," she said. 
 
 " Not any one who scents himself with some doctor's
 
 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 45 
 
 stuff like cologne ? " continued Low, with the disgust of 
 keen olfactory sensibilities. 
 
 Again Miss Nellie recognized the perfume with which the 
 gallant expressman was wont to make redolent her little 
 parlor, but again she avowed no knowledge of its possessor. 
 "Well," returned Low, with some disappointment, "such 
 a man has been here. Be on your guard. Let us go at 
 once." 
 
 She required no urging to hasten her steps, but hurried 
 breathlessly at his side. He had taken a new trail by 
 which they left the wood at right angles with the highway, 
 two miles away. Following an almost effaced mule track 
 along a slight depression of the plain, deep enough, how- 
 ever, to hide them from view, he accompanied her, until, 
 rising to the level again, she saw they were beginning to 
 approach the highway and the distant roofs of Indian 
 Spring. " Nobody meeting you now," he whispered, 
 " would suspect where you had been. Good-night ! until 
 next week remember." 
 
 They pressed each other's hands, and standing on the 
 slight ridge outlined against the paling sky, in full view of 
 the highway, parted carelessly, as if they had been chance- 
 met travelers. But Nellie could not restrain a parting 
 backward glance as she left the ridge. Low had descended 
 to the deserted trail, and was running swiftly in the direc- 
 tion of the Carquinez Woods.
 
 CHAPTER IY 
 
 TERESA awoke with a start. It was day already, but 
 how far advanced the even, unchanging, soft twilight of 
 the woods gave no indication. Her companion had van- 
 ished, and to her bewildered senses so had the camp-fire, 
 even to its embers and ashes. Was she awake, or had she 
 wandered away unconsciously in the night ? One glance 
 at the tree above her dissipated the fancy. There was the 
 opening of her quaint retreat and the hanging strips of 
 bark, and at the foot of the opposite tree lay the carcass of 
 the bear. It had been skinned, and, as Teresa thought 
 with an inward shiver, already looked half its former size. 
 
 Not yet accustomed to the fact that a few steps in either 
 direction around the circumference of those great trunks 
 produced the sudden appearance or disappearance of any 
 figure, Teresa uttered a slight scream as her young compan- 
 ion unexpectedly stepped to her side. " You see a change 
 here," he said ; " the stamped-out ashes of the camp-fire 
 lie under the brush," and he pointed to some cleverly 
 scattered boughs and strips of bark which completely 
 effaced the traces of last night's bivouac. "We can't 
 afford to call the attention of any packer or hunter who 
 might straggle this way to this particular spot and this 
 particular tree ; the more naturally," he added, " as they 
 always prefer to camp over an old fire." Accepting this 
 explanation meekly, as partly a reproach for her caprice of 
 the previous night, Teresa hung her head. 
 
 " I 'm very sorry," she said, " but would n't that," 
 pointing to the carcass of the bear, " have made them 
 curious ? "
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 47 
 
 But Low's logic was relentless. 
 
 " By this time there would have been little left to excite 
 curiosity if you had been willing to leave those beasts to 
 their work." 
 
 " I 'm very sorry," repeated the woman, her lips quiver- 
 ing. 
 
 " They are the scavengers of the wood," he continued in 
 a lighter tone ; " if you stay here you must try to use them 
 to keep your house clean." 
 
 Teresa smiled nervously. 
 
 " I mean that they shall finish their work to-night," he 
 added, " and I shall build another camp-fire for us a mile 
 from here until they do." 
 
 But Teresa caught his sleeve. 
 
 "No," she said hurriedly, "don't, please, for me. You 
 must not take the trouble nor the risk. Hear me ; do, 
 please. I can bear it, I will bear it to-night. I would 
 have borne it last night, but it was so strange and," she 
 passed her hands over her forehead, " I think I must have 
 been half mad. But I am not so foolish now." 
 
 She seemed so broken and despondent that he replied 
 reassuringly : " Perhaps it would be better that I should 
 find another hiding-place for you, until I can dispose of 
 that carcass, so that it will not draw dogs after the wolves, 
 and men after them. Besides, your friend the sheriff will 
 probably remember the bear when he remembers anything, 
 and try to get on its track again." 
 
 " He 's a conceited fool," broke in Teresa in a high voice, 
 with a slight return of her old fury, "or he 'd have guessed 
 where that shot came from ; and," she added in a lower 
 tone, looking down at her limp and nerveless fingers, " he 
 would n't have let a poor, weak, nervous wretch like me 
 get away." 
 
 " But his deputy may put two and two together, and 
 connect your escape with it."
 
 48 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 Teresa's eyes flashed. " It would be like the dog, just 
 to save his pride, to swear it was an ambush of my friends, 
 and that he was overpowered by numbers. Oh yes ! I 
 see it all ! " she almost screamed, lashing herself into a 
 rage at the bare contemplation of this diminution of her 
 glory. " That J s the dirty lie he tells everywhere, and is 
 telling now." 
 
 She stamped her feet and glanced savagely around, as if 
 at any risk to proclaim the falsehood. Low turned his im- 
 passive, truthful face towards her. 
 
 " Sheriff Dunn," he began gravely, " is a politician, and 
 a fool when he takes to the trail as a hunter of man or 
 beast. But he is not a coward nor a liar. Your chances 
 would be better if he were if he laid your escape to an 
 ambush of your friends, than if his pride held you alone 
 responsible." 
 
 " If he 's such a good man, why do you hesitate ? " she 
 replied bitterly. " Why don't you give me up at once, and 
 do a service to one of your friends ? " 
 
 " I do not even know him," returned Low, opening his 
 clear eyes upon her. " I 've promised to hide you here, 
 and I shall hide you as well from him as from anybody." 
 
 Teresa did not reply, but suddenly dropping down upon 
 the ground buried her face in her hands and began to sob 
 convulsively. Low turned impassively away, and putting 
 aside the bark curtain climbed into the hollow tree. In 
 a few moments he reappeared, laden with provisions and a 
 few simple cooking-utensils, and touched her lightly on 
 the shoulder. She looked up timidly ; the paroxysm had 
 passed, but her lashes yet glittered. 
 
 " Come," he said, " come and get some breakfast. I find 
 you have eaten nothing since you have been here twenty- 
 four hours." 
 
 " I did n't know it," she said, with a faint smile. Then 
 seeing his burden, and possessed by a new and strange
 
 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 49 
 
 desire for some menial employment, she said hurriedly, 
 " Let me carry something do, please," and even tried to 
 disencumber him. 
 
 Half annoyed, Low at last yielded, and handing his rifle 
 said, " There, then, take that ; but be careful it 's 
 loaded ! " 
 
 A cruel blush burnt the woman's face to the roots of 
 her hair as she took the weapon hesitatingly in her hand. 
 
 " No ! " she stammered, hurriedly lifting her shame- 
 suffused eyes to his ; " no ! no ! " 
 
 He turned away with an impatience which showed her 
 how completely gratuitous had been her agitation and its 
 significance, and said, " Well, then give it back if you are 
 afraid of it." But she as suddenly declined to return it; 
 and shouldering it deftly, took her place by his side. 
 Silently they moved from the hollow tree together. 
 
 During their walk she did not attempt to invade his 
 taciturnity. Nevertheless she was as keenly alive and 
 watchful of his every movement and gesture as if she had 
 hung enchanted on his lips. The unerring way with 
 which he pursued a viewless, undeviating path through 
 those trackless woods, his quick reconnaissance of certain 
 trees or openings, his mute inspection of some almost im- 
 perceptible footprint of bird or beast, his critical examination 
 of certain plants which he plucked and deposited in his 
 deerskin haversack, were not lost on the quick-witted 
 woman. As they gradually changed the clear, unencum- 
 bered aisles of the central woods for a more tangled under- 
 growth, Teresa felt that subtle admiration which culminates 
 in imitation, and simulating perfectly the step, tread, and 
 easy swing of her companion, followed so accurately his 
 lead that she won a gratified exclamation from him when 
 their goal was reached a broken, blackened shaft, splin- 
 tered by long-forgotten lightning, in the centre of a tangled 
 carpet of wood-clover.
 
 50 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 " I don't wonder you distanced the deputy," he said 
 cheerfully, throwing down his burden, " if you can take 
 the hunting-path like that. In a few days, if you stay 
 here, I can venture to trust you alone for a little pasear 
 when you are tired of the tree." 
 
 Teresa looked pleased, but busied herself with arrange- 
 ments for the breakfast, while he gathered the fuel for the 
 roaring fire which soon blazed beside the shattered tree. 
 
 Teresa's breakfast was a success. It was a revelation to 
 the young nomad, whose ascetic habits and simple tastes 
 were usually content with the most primitive forms of 
 frontier cookery. It was at least a surprise to him to know 
 that without extra trouble kneaded flour, water, and salera- 
 tus need not be essentially heavy ; that coffee need not be 
 boiled with sugar to the consistency of syrup ; that even 
 that rarest delicacy, small shreds of venison covered with 
 ashes and broiled upon the end of a ramrod boldly thrust 
 into the flames, would be better and even more expeditiously 
 cooked upon burning coals. Moved in his practical nature, 
 he was surprised to find this curious creature of disorganized 
 nerves and useless impulses informed with an intelligence 
 that did not preclude the welfare of humanity or the exist- 
 ence of a soul. He respected her for some minutes, until 
 in the midst of a culinary triumph a big tear dropped and 
 spluttered in the saucepan. But he forgave the irrelevancy 
 by taking no notice of it, and by doing full justice to that 
 particular dish. 
 
 Nevertheless, he asked several questions based upon these 
 recently discovered qualities. It appeared that in the old 
 days of her wanderings with the circus troupe she had often 
 been forced to undertake this nomadic housekeeping. But 
 she " despised it," had never done it since, and always had 
 refused to do it for " him " the personal pronoun refer- 
 ring, as Low understood, to her lover, Curson. Not caring 
 to revive these memories further, Low briefly concluded :
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 51 
 
 " I don't know what you were, or what you may be, 
 but from what I see of you you 've got all the sabe of a 
 frontiersman's wife." 
 
 She stopped and looked at him, and then, with an im- 
 pulse of impudence that only half concealed a more serious 
 vanity, asked, "Do you think I might have made a good 
 squaw ? " 
 
 " I don't know," he replied quietly. " I never saw 
 enough of them to know." 
 
 Teresa, confident from his clear eyes that he spoke the 
 truth, but having nothing ready to follow this calm dis- 
 posal of her curiosity, relapsed into silence. 
 
 The meal finished, Teresa washed their scant table 
 equipage in a little spring . near the camp-fire ; where, 
 catching sight of her disordered dress and collar, she 
 rapidly threw her shawl, after the national fashion, over 
 her shoulder and pinned it quickly. Low cached the re- 
 maining provisions and the few cooking-utensils under the 
 dead embers and ashes, obliterating all superficial indica- 
 tion of their camp-fire as deftly and artistically as he had 
 before. 
 
 "There is n't the ghost of a chance," he said in expla- 
 nation, " that anybody but you or I will set foot here be- 
 fore we come back to supper, but it 's well to be on guard. 
 I'll take you back to the cabin now, though I bet you 
 could find your way there as well as I can." 
 
 On their way back Teresa ran ahead of her companion, 
 and plucking a few tiny leaves from a hidden oasis in the 
 bark-strewn trail brought them to him. 
 
 " That 's the kind you 're looking for, is n't it ? " she 
 said half timidly. 
 
 " It is," responded Low, in gratified surprise ; " but 
 how did you know it ? You 're not a botanist, are you ? " 
 
 "I reckon not," said Teresa; "but you picked some 
 when we came, and I noticed what they were."
 
 52 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 Here was indeed another revelation. Low stopped and 
 gazed at her with such frank, open, utterly unabashed 
 curiosity that her black eyes fell before him. 
 
 "And do you think," he asked with logical delibera- 
 tion, " that you could find any plant from another I should 
 give you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Or from a drawing of it ? " 
 
 " Yes ; perhaps even if you described it to me." 
 
 A half-confidential, half -fraternal silence followed. 
 
 " I tell you what. I 've got a book " 
 
 "I know it," interrupted Teresa; "full of these things." 
 
 " Yes. Do you think you could " 
 
 " Of course I could," broke in Teresa again. 
 
 " But you don't know what I mean," said the imperturb- 
 able Low. 
 
 " Certainly I do. Why, find 'em, and preserve all the 
 different ones for you to write under that 's it, is n't it ? " 
 
 Low nodded his head, gratified, but not entirely con- 
 vinced that she had fully estimated the magnitude of the 
 endeavor. 
 
 "I suppose," said Teresa, in the feminine proscriptum 
 voice which it would seem entered even the philosophical 
 calm of the aisles they were treading "I suppose that 
 she places great value on them ? " 
 
 Low had indeed heard Science personified before, nor 
 was it at all impossible that the singular woman walking 
 by his side had also. He said, " Yes ; " but added, in 
 mental reference to the Linnaean Society of San Francisco, 
 that "they were rather particular about the rarer kinds." 
 
 .Content as Teresa had been to believe in Low's tender 
 relations with some favored one of her sex, this frank con* 
 fession of a plural devotion staggered her. 
 
 " They ? " she repeated. 
 
 " Yes," he continued calmly. " The Botanical Society
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 53 
 
 I correspond with are more particular than the Govern- 
 ment Survey." 
 
 " Then you are doing this for a society ? " demanded 
 Teresa, with a stare. 
 
 " Certainly. I 'm making a collection and classifica- 
 tion of specimens. I intend but what are you looking 
 at?" 
 
 Teresa had suddenly turned away. Putting his hand 
 lightly on her shoulder, the young man brought her face to 
 face with him again. She was laughing. 
 
 " I thought all the while it was for a girl," she said ; 
 " and " But here the mere effort of speech sent her 
 off into an audible and genuine outburst of laughter. It 
 was the first time he had seen her even smile other than 
 bitterly. Characteristically unconscious of any humor in 
 her error, he remained unembarrassed. But he could not 
 help noticing a change in the expression of her face, her 
 voice, and even her intonation. It seemed as if that fit 
 of laughter had loosed the last ties that bound her to a 
 self-imposed character, had swept away the last barrier 
 between her and her healthier nature, had dispossessed a 
 painful unreality, and relieved the morbid tension of a 
 purely nervous attitude. The change in her utterance 
 and the resumption of her softer Spanish accent seemed 
 to have come with her confidences, and Low took leave 
 of her before their sylvan cabin with a comrade's hearti- 
 ness, and a complete forgetfulness that her voice had ever 
 irritated him. 
 
 When he returned that afternoon he was startled to find 
 the cabin empty. But instead of bearing any appearance 
 of disturbance or hurried flight, the rude interior seemed to 
 have magically assumed a decorous order and cleanliness 
 unknown before. Fresh bark hid the inequalities of the 
 floor. The skins and blankets were folded in the corners, 
 the rude shelves were carefully arranged ; even a few tall
 
 54 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 ferns and bright but quickly fading flowers were disposed 
 around the blackened chimney. She had evidently availed 
 herself of the change of clothing he had brought her, for 
 her late garments were hanging from the hastily-devised 
 wooden pegs driven in the wall. The young man gazed 
 around him with mixed feelings of gratification and uneasi- 
 ness. His presence had been dispossessed in a single hour ; 
 his ten years of lonely habitation had left no trace that this 
 woman had not effaced with a deft move of her hand. 
 More than that, it looked as if she had always occupied it ; 
 and it was with a singular conviction that even when she 
 should occupy it no longer it would only revert to him as 
 her dwelling, that he dropped the bark shutters athwart the 
 opening, and left it to follow her. 
 
 To his quick ear, fine eye, and abnormal senses, this was 
 easy enough. She had gone in the direction of this morn- 
 ing's camp. Once or twice he paused with a half-gesture 
 of recognition and a characteristic " Good ! " at the place 
 where she had stopped, but was surprised to find that her 
 main course had been as direct as his own. Deviating 
 from this direct line with Indian precaution he first made a 
 circuit of the camp, and approached the shattered trunk 
 from the opposite direction. He consequently came upon 
 Teresa unawares. But the momentary astonishment and 
 embarrassment were his alone. 
 
 He scarcely recognized her. ' She was wearing the gar- 
 ments he had brought her the day before a certain dis- 
 carded gown of Miss Nellie Wynn, which he had hurriedly 
 begged from her under the pretext of clothing the wife of a 
 distressed overland emigrant then on the way to the mines. 
 Although he had satisfied his conscience with the intention 
 of confessing the pious fraud to her when Teresa was gone 
 and safe from pursuit, it was not without a sense of remorse 
 that he witnessed the sacreligious transformation. The two 
 women were nearly the same height and size ; and although
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 55 
 
 Teresa's maturer figure accented the outlines more strongly, 
 it was still becoming enough to increase his irritation. 
 
 Of this becomingness she was doubtless unaware at the 
 moment that he surprised her. She was conscious of hav- 
 ing " a change," and this had emboldened her to " do her 
 hair " and otherwise compose herself. After their greeting 
 she was the first to allude to the dress, regretting that it 
 was not more of a rough disguise, and that, as she must 
 now discard the national habit of wearing her shawl 
 " manta " fashion over her head, she wanted a hat. 
 " But you must not," she said, " borrow any more dresses 
 for me from your young woman. Buy them for me at some 
 shop. They left me enough money for that." Low gently 
 put aside the few pieces of gold she had drawn from her 
 pocket, and briefly reminded her of the suspicion such a 
 purchase by him would produce. " That 's so," she said 
 with a laugh. " Caramba ! what a mule I 'm becoming ! 
 Ah ! wait a moment. I have it ! Buy me a common felt 
 hat a man 's hat as if for yourself, as a change to that 
 animal," pointing to the fox-tailed cap he wore summer 
 and winter, " and I '11 show you a trick. I have n't run 
 a theatrical wardrobe for nothing." Nor had she, for the 
 hat thus procured, a few days later, became, by the aid of 
 a silk handkerchief and a bluejay's feather, a fascinating 
 " pork pie." 
 
 Whatever cause of annoyance to Low still lingered in 
 Teresa's dress, it was soon forgotten in a palpable evidence 
 of Teresa's value as botanical assistant. It appeared that 
 during the afternoon she had not only duplicated his spe- 
 cimens, but had discovered one or two rare plants as yet 
 unclassified in the flora of the Carquinez Woods. He was 
 delighted, and in turn, over the camp-fire, yielded up some 
 details of his present life and some earlier recollections. 
 
 " You don't remember anything of your father ? " she 
 asked. " Did he ever try to seek you out ? "
 
 56 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 "No! Why should he?" replied the imperturbable 
 Low ; " he was not a Cherokee." 
 
 "No, he was a beast," responded Teresa promptly. 
 " And your mother do you remember her ? " 
 
 " No, I think she died." 
 
 " You think she died ? Don't you know ? " 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " Then you 're another ! " said Teresa. Notwithstand- 
 ing this frankness, they shook hands for the night ; Teresa 
 nestling like a rabbit in a hollow by the side of the camp- 
 fire; Low with his feet towards it, Indian-wise, and his 
 head and shoulders pillowed on his haversack, only half 
 distinguishable in the darkness beyond. 
 
 With such trivial details three uneventful days slipped 
 by. Their retreat was undisturbed, nor could Low detect, 
 by the least evidence to his acute perceptive faculties, that 
 any intruding feet had since crossed the belt of shade. The 
 echoes of passing events at Indian Spring had recorded the 
 escape of Teresa as occurring at a remote and purely 
 imaginative distance, and her probable direction the county 
 of Yolo. 
 
 " Can you remember," he one day asked her, " what 
 time it was when you cut the riata and got away ? " 
 
 Teresa pressed her hands upon her eyes and temples. 
 
 " About three, I reckon." 
 
 " And you were here at seven ; you could have covered 
 some ground in four hours ? " 
 
 "Perhaps I don't know," she said, her .voice taking 
 up its old quality again. " Don't ask me I ran all the 
 way." 
 
 Her face was quite pale as she removed her hands from 
 her eyes, and her breath came as quickly as if she had just 
 finished that race for life. 
 
 " Then you think I am safe here ? " she added, after a 
 pause.
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 57 
 
 " Perfectly until they find you are not in Yolo. Then 
 they '11 look here. And that 's the time for you to go there." 
 
 Teresa smiled timidly. " It will take them some time 
 to search Yolo unless," she added, " you 're tired of me 
 here." The charming non sequltur did not, however, seem 
 to strike the young man. " I 've got time yet to find a 
 few more plants for you," she suggested. 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! " 
 
 " And give you a few more lessons in cooking." 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 The conscientious and literal Low was beginning to 
 doubt if she were really practical. How otherwise could 
 she trifle with such a situation ? 
 
 It must be confessed that that day and the next she did 
 trifle with it. She gave herself up to a grave and delicious 
 languor that seemed to flow from shadow and silence and 
 permeate her entire being. She passed hours in a thought- 
 ful repose of mind and spirit that seemed to fall like balm 
 from those steadfast guardians, and distill their gentle 
 ether in her soul ; or breathed into her listening ear im- 
 munity from the forgotten past and security for the pre- 
 sent. If there was no dream of the future in this calm, 
 even recurrence of placid existence, so much the better. 
 The simple details of each succeeding day, the quaint 
 housekeeping, the brief companionship and coming and 
 going of her young host, himself at best a crystallized 
 personification of the sedate and hospitable woods, satis- 
 fied her feeble cravings. She no longer regretted the inferior 
 passion that her fears had obliged her to take the first night 
 she came ; she began to look up to this young man so 
 much younger than herself without knowing what it 
 meant ; it was not until she found that this attitude did 
 not detract from his picturesqueness that she discovered 
 herself seeking for reasons to degrade him from this seduc- 
 tive eminence.
 
 58 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 A week had elapsed with little change. On two days 
 he had been absent all day, returning only in time to sup 
 in the hollow tree, which, thanks to the final removal of 
 the dead bear from its vicinity, was now considered a 
 safer retreat than the exposed camp-fire. On the first of 
 these occasions she received him with some preoccupation, 
 paying but little heed to the scant gossip he brought from 
 Indian Spring, and retiring early under the plea of fatigue, 
 that he might; seek his own distant camp-fire, which, thanks 
 to her stronger nerves and regained courage, she no longer 
 required so near. On the second occasion, he found her 
 writing a letter more or less blotted with her tears. When 
 it was finished, she begged him to post it at Indian 
 Spring, where in two days an answer would be returned, 
 under cover, to him. 
 
 " I hope you will be satisfied then," she added. 
 
 " Satisfied with what ? " queried the young man. 
 
 " You '11 see," she replied, giving him her cold hand. 
 " Good-night." 
 
 " But can't you tell me now ? " he remonstrated, retain- 
 ing her hand. 
 
 " Wait two days longer it is n't much," was all she 
 vouchsafed to answer. 
 
 The two days passed. Their former confidence and 
 good fellowship were fully restored when the morning 
 came on which he was to bring the answer from the post- 
 office at Indian Spring. He had talked again of his fu- 
 ture, and had recorded his ambition to procure the appoint- 
 ment of naturalist to a Government Surveying Expedition. 
 She had even jocularly proposed to dress herself in man's 
 attire and " enlist " as his assistant. 
 
 " But you will be safe with your friends, I hope, by 
 that time," responded Low. 
 
 " Safe with my friends," she repeated in a lower voice. 
 " Safe with my friends yes ! " An awkward silence
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 59 
 
 followed. Teresa broke it gayly : " But your girl, your 
 sweetheart, my benefactor will she let you go ? " 
 
 " I have n't told her yet," said Low gravely, " but I 
 don't see why she should object." 
 
 " Object, indeed ! " interrupted Teresa in a high voice 
 and a sudden and utterly gratuitous indignation ; " how 
 should she ? I 'd like to see her do it ! " 
 
 She accompanied him some distance to the intersection 
 of the trail, where they parted in good spirits. On the 
 dusty plain without a gale was blowing that rocked the 
 high treetops above her, but, tempered and subdued, en- 
 tered the low aisles with a fluttering breath of morning 
 and a sound like the cooing of doves. Never had the 
 wood before shown so sweet a sense of security from the 
 turmoil and tempest of the world beyond ; never before 
 had an intrusion from the outer life even in the shape 
 of a letter seemed so wicked a desecration. Tempted 
 by the solicitation of air and shade, she lingered, with 
 Low's herbarium slung on her shoulder. 
 
 A strange sensation, like a shiver, suddenly passed 
 across her nerves,. and left them in a state of rigid tension. 
 With every sense morbidly acute, with every faculty 
 strained to its utmost, the subtle instincts of Low's wood- 
 craft transformed and possessed her. She knew it now ! 
 A new element was in the wood a strange being an- 
 other life another man approaching ! She did not even 
 raise her head to look about her, but darted with the pre- 
 cision and fleetness of an arrow in the direction of her 
 tree. But her feet were arrested, her limbs paralyzed, 
 her very existence suspended, by the sound of a voice : 
 
 " Teresa ! " 
 
 It was a voice that had rung in her ears for the last 
 two years in all phases of intensity, passion, tenderness, 
 and anger ; a voice upon whose modulations, rude and 
 unmusical though they were, her heart and soul had hung
 
 60 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 in transport or anguish. But it was a chime that had 
 rung its last peal to her senses as she entered the Car- 
 quinez Woods, and for the last week had been as dead to 
 her as a voice from the grave. It was the voice of her 
 lover Dick Curson !
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE wind was blowing towards the stranger, so that 
 he was nearly upon her when Teresa first took the alarm. 
 He was a man over six feet in height, strongly built, with 
 a slight tendency to a roundness of bulk which suggested 
 reserved rather than impeded energy. His thick beard 
 and mustache were closely cropped around a small and 
 handsome mouth that lisped except when he was excited, 
 but always kept fellowship with his blue eyes in a per- 
 petual smile of half-cynical good humor. His dress was 
 superior to that of the locality ; his general expression that 
 of a man of the world, albeit a world of San Francisco, 
 Sacramento, and Murderer's Bar. He advanced towards 
 her with a laugh and an outstretched hand. 
 
 " You here ! " she gasped, drawing back. 
 
 Apparently neither surprised nor mortified at this recep- 
 tion, he answered frankly, " Yeth. You did n't expect me, 
 I know. But Doloreth showed me the letter you wrote 
 her, and well here I am, ready to help you, with two 
 men and a thpare horthe waiting outside the woodth on the 
 blind trail." 
 
 " You you here ? " she only repeated. 
 
 Curson shrugged his shoulders. " Yeth. Of courth 
 you never expected to thee me again, and leatht of all 
 here. I '11 admit that ; I '11 thay I would n't if I 'd been 
 in your plathe. I '11 go further, and thay you did n't 
 want to thee me again anywhere. But it all cometh to 
 the thame thing. Here I am ; I read the letter you wrote 
 Doloreth. I read how you were hiding here, under
 
 62 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 Dunn'th very nothe, with his whole pothe out, cavorting 
 round and barkin' up the wrong tree. I made up my 
 mind to come down here with a few nathty friends of mine 
 and cut you out under Dunn'th nothe, and run you over 
 into Yuba that 'th all." 
 
 " How dared she show you my letter you of all men ? 
 How dared she ask your help ? " continued Teresa fiercely. 
 
 " But she did n't athk my help," he responded coolly. 
 " D d if I don't think she jutht calculated I 'd be glad to 
 know you were being hunted down and thtarving, that I 
 might put Dunn on your track." 
 
 " You lie ! " said Teresa furiously ; " she was my 
 friend. A better friend than those who professed 
 more" she added, with a contemptuous drawing away of 
 her skirt as if she feared Curson's contamination. 
 
 " All right. Thettle that with her when you go back," 
 continued Curson philosophically. " We can talk of that 
 on the way. The thing now ith to get up and get out of 
 thethe woods. Come ! " 
 
 Teresa's only reply was a gesture of scorn. 
 
 " I know all that," continued Curson half soothingly, 
 " but they 're waiting." 
 
 " Let them wait. I shall not go." 
 
 " What will you do ? " 
 
 " Stay here till the wolves eat me." 
 
 " Teresa, listen. D it all Teresa ! Tita ! see 
 here," he said with sudden energy. " I swear to God it 's 
 all .right. I'm willing to let bygones be bygones and 
 take a new deal. You shall come back as if nothing had 
 happened, and take your old place as before. I don't 
 mind doing the square thing, all round. If that 's what 
 you mean, if that 's all that stands in the way, why, IOOK 
 upon the thing as settled. There, Tita, old girl, come." 
 
 Careless or oblivious of her stony silence and staring 
 eyes, he attempted to take her hand. But she disengaged
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 63 
 
 herself with a quick movement, drew back, and suddenly 
 crouched like a wild animal about to spring. Curson 
 folded his arms as she leaped to her feet ; the little dagger 
 she had drawn from her garter flashed menacingly in the 
 air, but she stopped. 
 
 The man before her remained erect, impassive, and 
 silent ; the great trees around and beyond her remained 
 erect, impassive, and silent ; there was no sound in the 
 dim aisles but the quick panting of her mad passion, no 
 movement in the calm, motionless shadow but the trem- 
 bling of her uplifted steel. Her arm bent and slowly 
 sank, her fingers relaxed, the knife fell from her hand. 
 
 11 That 'th quite enough for a thow," he said, with a 
 return to his former cynical ease and a perceptible tone 
 of relief in his voice. " It 'th the thame old Teretha. 
 Well, then, if you won't go with me, go without me ; take 
 the led horthe and cut away. Dick Athley and Peterth 
 will follow you over the county line. If you want thome 
 money, there it ith." He took a buckskin purse from his 
 pocket. " If you won't take it from me " he hesitated 
 as she made no reply "Athley 'th flush and ready to 
 lend you thome." 
 
 She had not seemed to hear him, but had stooped in 
 some embarrassment, picked up the knife and hastily hid 
 it, then with averted face and nervous fingers was begin- 
 ning to tear strips of loose bark from the nearest trunk. 
 
 " Well, what do you thay ? " 
 
 " I don't want any money, and I shall stay here." She 
 hesitated, looked around her, and then added, with an 
 effort, " I suppose you meant well. Be it so ! Let by- 
 gones be bygones. You said just now, 'It's the same 
 old Teresa.' So she is, and seeing she 's the same she 's 
 better here than anywhere else." 
 
 There was enough bitterness in her tone to call for 
 Curson's half-perfunctory sympathy.
 
 64 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 " That be d d," he responded quickly. " Jutht thay 
 you '11 come, Tita, and " 
 
 She stopped his half-spoken sentence with a negative 
 gesture. " You don't understand. I shall stay here." 
 
 " But even if they don't theek you here, you can't live 
 here forever. The friend that you wrote about who wath 
 tho good to you, you know, can't keep you here alwayth ; 
 and are you thure you can alwayth trutht her ? " 
 
 " It is n't a woman it 's a man." She stopped short, 
 and colored to the line of her forehead. " Who said it 
 was a woman ? " she continued fiercely, as if to cover her 
 confusion with a burst of gratuitous anger. " Is that an- 
 other of your lies ? " 
 
 Curson's lips, which for a moment had completely lost 
 their smile, were now drawn together in a prolonged 
 whistle. He gazed curiously at her gown, at her hat, at 
 the bow of bright ribbon that tied her black hair, and said, 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "A poor man who has kept my secret," she went on 
 hurriedly ; " a man as friendless and lonely as myself. 
 Yes," disregarding Curson's cynical smile, " a man who 
 has shared everything " 
 
 "Naturally," suggested Curson. 
 
 " And turned himself out of his only shelter to give me 
 a roof and covering," she continued mechanically, strug- 
 gling with the new and horrible fancy that his words 
 awakened. 
 
 " And thlept every night at Indian Thpring to save your 
 reputation," said Curson. "Of courthe." 
 
 Teresa turned very white. Curson was prepared for an 
 outburst of fury perhaps even another attack. But the 
 crushed and beaten woman only gazed at him with fright- 
 ened and imploring eyes. " For God's sake, Dick, don't 
 say that ! " 
 
 The amiable cynic was staggered. His good humor
 
 IN THE CA.RQTJINEZ WOODS 65 
 
 and a certain chivalrous instinct lie could not repress got 
 the better of him. He shrugged his shoulders. " What 
 I thay and what you do, Teretha, needn't make us quar- 
 rel. I 've no claim on you I know it. Only " a 
 vivid sense of the ridiculous, powerful in men of his 
 stamp, completed her victory " only don't thay any- 
 thing about my coming down here to cut you out from 
 the the the sheriff." He gave utterance to a short 
 but unaffected laugh, made a slight grimace, and turned 
 to go. 
 
 Teresa did not join in his mirth. Awkward as it would 
 have been if he had taken a severer view of the subject, 
 she was mortified even amidst her fears and embarrassment 
 at his levity. Just as she had become convinced that his 
 jealousy had made her over-conscious, his apparent good- 
 humored indifference gave that over-consciousness a guilty 
 significance. Yet this was lost in her sudden alarm as her 
 companion, looking up, uttered an exclamation, and placed 
 his hand upon his revolver. With a sinking conviction 
 that the climax had come, Teresa turned her eyes. From 
 the dim aisles beyond, Low was approaching. The catas- 
 trophe seemed complete. 
 
 She had barely time to utter an imploring whisper : " In 
 the name of God, not a word to him." But a change had 
 already come over her companion. It was no longer a par- 
 ley with a foolish woman ; he had to deal with a man like 
 himself. As Low's dark face and picturesque figure came 
 nearer, Mr. Curson's proposed method of dealing with him 
 was made audible. 
 
 "Ith it a mulatto or a Thircuth, or both ?" he asked, 
 with affected anxiety. 
 
 Low's Indian phlegm was impervious to such assault. 
 He turned to Teresa, without apparently noticing her com- 
 panion. " I turned back," he said quietly, " as soon as I 
 knew there were strangers here ; I thought you might need
 
 66 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 me." She noticed for the first time that, in addition to his 
 rifle, he carried a revolver and hunting-knife in his belt. 
 
 " Yeth," returned Curson, with an ineffectual attempt to 
 imitate Low's phlegm ; " but ath I did n't happen to be a 
 sthranger to thith lady, perhaps it wath n't nethethary, 
 particularly ath I had two friends " 
 
 " Waiting at the edge of the wood with a led horse," 
 interrupted Low, without addressing him, but apparently 
 continuing his explanation to Teresa. But she turned to 
 Low with feverish anxiety. 
 
 " That 's so he is an old friend " she gave a quick, 
 imploring glance at Curson "an old friend who came to 
 help me away he is very kind," she stammered, turning 
 alternately from the one to the other ; " but I told him there 
 was no hurry at least to-day that you were very 
 good too, and would hide me a little longer until your 
 plan you know your plan," she added, with a look of 
 beseeching significance to Low " could be tried." And 
 then, with a helpless conviction that her excuses, motives, 
 and emotions were equally and perfectly transparent to both 
 men, she stopped in a tremble. 
 
 " Perhapth it 'th jutht ath well, then, that the gentle- 
 man came thraight here, and did n't tackle my two friendth 
 when he pathed them," observed Curson half sarcastically. 
 
 " I have not passed your friends, nor have I been near 
 them," said Low, looking at him for the first time, with 
 the same exasperating calm ; " or perhaps I should not be 
 here or they there. I knew that one man entered the 
 wood a few moments ago, and that two men and four 
 horses remained outside." 
 
 "That's true," said Teresa to Curson excitedly 
 " that 's true. He knows all. He can see without look- 
 ing, hear without listening. He he " she stammered, 
 colored, and stopped. 
 
 The two men had faced each other. Curson, after his
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 67 
 
 first good-natured impulse, had retained no wish to regain 
 Teresa, whom he felt he no longer loved, and yet who, 
 for that very reason perhaps, had awakened his chivalrous 
 instincts. Low, equally on his side, was altogether uncon- 
 scious of any feeling which might grow into a passion, and 
 prevent him from letting her go with another if for her 
 own safety. They were both men of a certain taste and 
 refinement. Yet, in spite of all this, some vague instinct 
 of the baser male animal remained with them, and they 
 were moved to a mutually aggressive attitude in the pre- 
 sence of the female. 
 
 One word more, and the opening chapter of a sylvan 
 Iliad might have begun. But this modern Helen saw it 
 coming, and arrested it with an inspiration of feminine 
 genius. Without being observed, she disengaged her knife 
 from her bosom, and let it fall as if by accident. It struck 
 the ground with the point of its keen blade, bounded, and 
 rolled between them. The two men started, and looked at 
 each other with a foolish air. Curson laughed. 
 
 " I reckon she can take care of herthelf," he said, ex- 
 tending his hand to Low. " I 'm off. But if I 'm wanted 
 she'U. know where to find me." Low took the proffered 
 hand, but neither of the two men looked at Teresa. The 
 reserve of antagonism once broken, a few words of caution, 
 advice, and encouragement passed between them, in appar- 
 ent obliviousness of her presence or her personal responsi- 
 bility. As Curson at last nodded a farewell to her, Low 
 insisted upon accompanying him as far as the horses, and 
 in another moment she was again alone. 
 
 She had saved a quarrel between them at the sacrifice 
 of herself, for her vanity was still keen enough to feel that 
 this exhibition of her old weakness had degraded her in 
 their eyes, and, worse, had lost the respect her late restraint 
 had won from Low. They had treated her like a child or 
 a crazy woman, perhaps even now were exchanging criti-
 
 68 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 cisms upon her perhaps pitying her ! Yet she had pre- 
 vented a quarrel, a fight, possibly the death of either one 
 or the other of these men who despised her, for none better 
 knew than she the trivial beginning and desperate end of 
 these encounters. Would they would Low ever realize 
 it, and forgive her? Her small, dark hands went up to 
 her eyes, and she sank upon the ground. She looked 
 through tear-veiled lashes upon the mute and giant wit- 
 nesses of her deceit and passion, and tried to draw, from 
 their immovable calm, strength and consolation as before. 
 But even they seemed to stand apart, reserved and for- 
 bidding. 
 
 When Low returned she hoped to gather from his eyes 
 and manner what had passed between him and her former 
 lover. But beyond a mere gentle abstraction at times he 
 retained his usual calm. She was at last forced to allude 
 to it herself with simulated recklessness. 
 
 " I suppose I did n't get a very good character from my 
 last place ? " she said, with a laugh. 
 
 " I don't understand you," he replied, in evident sin- 
 cerity. 
 
 She bit her lip and was silent. But as they were re- 
 turning home, she said gently, " I hope you were not 
 angry with me for the lie I told when I spoke of ' your 
 plan.' I could not give the real reason for not returning 
 with with that man. But it 's not all a lie. I have 
 a plan if you have n't. When you are ready to go to 
 Sacramento to take your place, dress me as an Indian boy, 
 paint my face, and let me go with you. You can leave 
 me there you know." 
 
 "It's not a bad idea," he responded gravely. "We 
 will see." 
 
 On the next day, and the next, the rencontre seemed to 
 be forgotten. The herbarium was already filled with rare 
 specimens. Teresa had even overcome her feminine re-
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 69 
 
 pugnance to " bugs " and creeping things so far as to assist 
 in his entomological collection. He had drawn from a 
 sacred cache in the hollow of a tree the few worn text- 
 books from which he had studied. 
 
 " They seem very precious," she said, with a smile. 
 
 " Very," he replied gravely. " There was one with 
 plates that the ants ate up, and it will be six months be- 
 fore I can afford to buy another." 
 
 Teresa glanced hurriedly over his well-worn buckskin 
 suit, at his calico shirt with its pattern almost obliterated 
 by countless washings, and became thoughtful. 
 
 " I suppose you could n't buy one at Indian Spring ? " 
 she said innocently. 
 
 For once Low was startled out of his phlegm. " Indian 
 Spring ! " he ejaculated ; " perhaps not even in San Fran- 
 cisco. These came from the States." 
 
 " How did you get them ? " persisted Teresa. 
 
 " I bought them for skins I got over the ridge." 
 
 " I did n't mean that but no matter. Then you mean 
 to sell that bearskin, don't you ? " she added. 
 
 Low had, in fact, already sold it, the proceeds having 
 been invested in a gold ring for Miss Nellie, which she 
 scrupulously did not wear except in his presence. In his 
 singular truthfulness he would have frankly confessed it 
 to Teresa, but the secret was not his own. He contented 
 himself with saying that he had disposed of it at Indian 
 Spring. Teresa started, and communicated unconsciously 
 some of her nervousness to her companion. They gazed 
 in each other's eyes with a troubled expression. 
 
 " Do you think it was wise to sell that particular skin, 
 which might be identified ? " she asked timidly. 
 
 Low knitted his arched brows, but felt a strange sense 
 of relief. " Perhaps not," he said carelessly ; " but it 's 
 too late now to mend matters." 
 
 That afternoon she wrote several letters, and tore them
 
 70 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 up. One, however, she retained, and handed it to Low to 
 post at Indian Spring, whither he was going. She called 
 his attention to the superscription being the same as the 
 previous letter, and added, with affected gayety, "But if 
 the answer is n't as prompt, perhaps it will he pleasanter 
 than the last." Her quick feminine eye noticed a little 
 excitement in his manner and a more studious attention to 
 his dress. Only a few days before she would not have 
 allowed this to pass without some mischievous allusion to 
 his mysterious sweetheart ; it troubled her greatly now to 
 find that she could not bring herself to this household 
 pleasantry, and that her lip trembled and her eye grew 
 moist as he parted. from her. 
 
 The afternoon passed slowly. He had said he might not 
 return to supper until late; nevertheless a strange restless- 
 ness took possession of her as the day wore on. She put 
 aside her work, the darning of his stockings, and ram- 
 bled aimlessly through the woods. She had wandered she 
 knew not how far, when she was suddenly seized with the 
 same vague sense of a foreign presence which she had felt 
 before. Could it be Curson again, with a word of warning ? 
 No ! she knew it was not he ; so subtle had her sense 
 become that she even fancied that she detected in the in- 
 visible aura projected by the unknown no significance or 
 relation to herself or Low, and felt no fear. Nevertheless 
 she deemed it wisest to seek the protection of her sylvan 
 bower, and hurried swiftly thither. 
 
 But not so quickly nor directly that she did not once or 
 twice pause in her flight to examine the new-comer from 
 behind a friendly trunk. He was a stranger a young fel- 
 low with a brown mustache, wearing heavy Mexican spurs 
 in his riding-boots, whose tinkling he apparently did not 
 care to conceal. He had perceived her, and was evidently 
 pursuing her, but so awkwardly and timidly that she eluded 
 him with ease. When she had reached the security of the
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 71 
 
 hollow tree, and had pulled the curtain of bark before the 
 narrow opening, with her eye to the interstices, she waited 
 his coming. He arrived breathlessly in the open space be- 
 fore the tree where the bear once lay ; the dazed, bewil- 
 dered, and half-awed expression of his face, as he glanced 
 around him and through the openings of the forest aisles, 
 brought a faint smile to her saddened face. At last he 
 called in a half-embarrassed voice, 
 
 " Miss Nellie ! " 
 
 The smile faded from Teresa's cheek. Who was " Miss 
 Nellie " ? She pressed her ear to the opening. " Miss 
 Wynn ! " the voice again called, but was lost in the echo- 
 less woods. Devoured with a new and* gratuitous curiosity, 
 in another moment Teresa felt she would have disclosed 
 herself at any risk, but the stranger rose and began to 
 retrace his steps. Long after his tinkling spurs were lost 
 in the distance, Teresa remained like a statue, staring at 
 the place where he had stood. Then she suddenly turned 
 like a mad woman, glanced down at the gown she was 
 wearing, tore it from her back as if it had been a polluted 
 garment, and stamped upon it in a convulsion of rage. 
 And then, with her beautiful bare arms clasped together 
 over her head, she threw herself upon her couch in a tem- 
 pest of tears.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 WHEN Miss Nellie reached the first mining extension 
 of Indian Spring, which surrounded it like a fosse, she 
 descended for one instant into one of its trenches, opened 
 her parasol, removed her duster, hid it under a boulder, 
 and with a few shivers and cat-like strokes of her soft 
 hands not only obliterated all material traces of the stolen 
 cream of Carquinez Woods, but assumed a feline demure- 
 ness quite inconsistent with any moral dereliction. Unfor- 
 tunately, she forgot to remove at the same time a certain 
 ring from her third finger, which she had put on with her 
 duster and had worn at no other time. With this slight 
 exception, the benignant fate which always protected that 
 young person brought her in contact with the Burnham 
 girls at one end of the main street as the returning coach to 
 Excelsior entered the other, and enabled her to take leave 
 of them before the coach-office with a certain ostentation 
 of parting which struck Mr. Jack Brace, who was lingering 
 at the doorway, into a state of utter bewilderment. 
 
 Here was Miss Nellie Wynn, the belle of Excelsior, 
 calm, quiet, self-possessed, her chaste cambric skirts and 
 dainty shoes as fresh as when she had left her father's 
 house ; but where was the woman of the brown duster, 
 and where the yellow-dressed apparition of the woods ? 
 He was feebly repeating to himself his mental adjuration 
 of a few hours before when he caught her eye, and was 
 taken with a blush and a fit of coughing. Could he have 
 been such an egregious fool, and was it not plainly written 
 on his embarrassed face for her to read ?
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 73 
 
 " Are we going down together ? " asked Miss Nellie, 
 with an exceptionally gracious smile. 
 
 There was neither affectation nor coquetry in this ad- 
 vance. The girl had no idea of Brace's suspicion of her, 
 nor did any uneasy desire to placate or deceive a possible 
 rival of Low's prompt her graciousness. She simply 
 wished to shake off in this encounter the already stale 
 excitement of the past two hours, as she had shaken the 
 dust of the woods from her clothes. It was characteristic 
 of her irresponsible nature and transient susceptibilities 
 that she actually enjoyed the relief of change ; more than 
 that, I fear, she looked upon this infidelity to a past dubi- 
 ous pleasure as a moral principle. A mild, open flirtation 
 with a recognized man like Brace, after her secret pas- 
 sionate tryst with a nameless nomad like Low, was an 
 ethical equipoise that seemed proper to one of her religious 
 education. 
 
 Brace was only too happy to profit by Miss Nellie's 
 condescension ; he at once secured the seat by her side, 
 and spent the four hours and a half of their return journey 
 to Excelsior in blissful but timid communion with her. 
 If he did not dare to confess his past suspicions, he was 
 equally afraid to venture upon the boldness he had pre- 
 meditated a few hours before. He was therefore obliged 
 to take a middle course of slightly egotistical narration of 
 his own personal adventures, with which he beguiled the 
 young girl's ear. This he only departed from once, to 
 describe to her a valuable grizzly bearskin which he had 
 seen that day for sale at Indian Spring, with a view to 
 divining her possible acceptance of it for a " buggy robe ; " 
 and once to comment upon a ring which she had inadver- 
 tently disclosed in pulling off her glove. 
 
 " It 's only an old family keepsake," she added, with 
 easy mendacity ; and affecting to recognize in Mr. Brace's 
 curiosity a not unnatural excuse for toying with her charm-
 
 74 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 ing fingers, she hid them in chaste and virginal seclusion 
 in her lap, until she could re-cover the ring and resume her 
 glove. 
 
 A week passed a week of peculiar and desiccating heat 
 for even those dry Sierra table-lands. The long days were 
 filled with impalpable dust and acrid haze suspended in the 
 motionless air ; the nights were breathless and dewless ; 
 the cold wind which usually swept down from the snow 
 line was laid to sleep over a dark monotonous level, whose 
 horizon was pricked with the eating fires of burning forest 
 crests. The lagging coach of Indian Spring drove up at 
 Excelsior, and precipitated its passengers with an accom- 
 panying cloud of dust before the Excelsior Hotel. As 
 they emerged from the coach, Mr. Brace, standing in the 
 doorway, closely scanned their begrimed and almost unre- 
 cognizable faces. They were the usual type of travelers: 
 a single professional man in dusty black, a few traders in 
 tweeds and flannels, a sprinkling of miners in red and gray 
 shirts, a Chinaman, a negro, and a Mexican packer or mule- 
 teer. This latter for a moment mingled with the crowd in 
 the bar-room, and even penetrated the corridor and dining- 
 room of the hotel, as if impelled by a certain semi-civilized 
 curiosity, and then strolled with a lazy, dragging step 
 half impeded by the enormous leather leggings, chains, and 
 spurs, peculiar to his class down the main street. The 
 darkness was gathering, but the muleteer indulged in the 
 same childish scrutiny of the dimly lighted shops, maga- 
 zines, and saloons, and even of the occasional groups of 
 citizens at the street corners. Apparently young, as far as 
 the outlines of his figure could be seen, he seemed to show 
 even more than the usual concern of masculine Excelsior 
 in the charms of womankind. The few female figures 
 about at that hour, or visible at window or veranda, re- 
 ceived his marked attention ; he respectfully followed the
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 75 
 
 two auburn-haired daughters of Deacon Johnson on their 
 way to choir-meeting to the door of the church. Not. con- 
 tent with that act of discreet gallantry, after they had 
 entered he managed to slip in unperceived behind them. 
 
 The memorial of the Excelsior gamblers' generosity was 
 a modern building, large and pretentious for even Mr. 
 Wynn's popularity, and had been good-humoredly known, 
 in the characteristic language of the generous donors, as one of 
 the " biggest religious bluffs " on record. Its groined raf- 
 ters, which were so new and spicy that they still suggested 
 their native forest aisles, seldom covered more than a hundred 
 devotees, and in the rambling choir, with its bare space for 
 the future organ, the few choristers, gathered round a small 
 harmonium, were lost in the deepening shadow of that summer 
 evening. The muleteer remained hidden in the obscurity 
 of the vestibule. After a few moments' desultory conversa- 
 tion, in which it appeared that the unexpected absence of 
 Miss Nellie Wynn, their leader, would prevent their prac- 
 ticing, the choristers withdrew. The stranger, who had lis- 
 tened eagerly, drew back in the darkness as they passed 
 out, and remained for a few moments a vague and motion- 
 less figure in the silent church. Then coming cautiously 
 to the window, the flapping broad-brimmed hat was put 
 aside, and the faint light of the dying day shone in the 
 black eyes of Teresa ! Despite her face, darkened with 
 dye and disfigured with dust, the matted hair piled and 
 twisted around her head, the strange dress and boyish 
 figure, one swift glance from under her raised lashes be- 
 trayed her identity. 
 
 She turned aside mechanically into the first pew, picked 
 up and opened a hymn-book. Her eyes became riveted on 
 a name written on the title-page, " Nellie Wynn." Her 
 name, and her book. The instinct that had guided her 
 here was right ; the slight gossip of her fellow passengers 
 was right ; this was the clergyman's daughter, whose praise
 
 76 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 filled all mouths. This was the unknown girl the stranger 
 was seeking, but who in her turn perhaps had been seeking 
 Low the girl who absorbed his fancy the secret of his 
 absences, his preoccupation, his coldness ! This was the 
 girl whom to see, perhaps in his arms, she was now periling 
 her liberty and her life, unknown to him ! A slight odor, 
 some faint perfume of its owner, came from the book : it 
 was the same she had noticed in the dress Low had given 
 her. She flung the volume to the ground, and, throwing 
 her arms over the back of the pew before her, buried her 
 face in her hands. 
 
 In that light and attitude she might have seemed some 
 rapt acolyte abandoned to self-communion. But whatever 
 yearning her soul might have had for higher sympathy or 
 deeper consolation, I fear that the spiritual tabernacle of 
 Excelsior and the Eev. Mr. Wynn did not meet that re- 
 quirement. She only felt the dry, oven-like heat of that 
 vast shell, empty of sentiment and beauty, hollow in its 
 pretense, and dreary in its desolation. She only saw in it a 
 chief altar for the glorification of this girl who had absorbed 
 even the pure worship of her companion, and converted 
 and degraded his sublime paganism to her petty creed. 
 With a woman's withering contempt for her own art dis- 
 played in another woman, she thought how she herself 
 could have touched him with the peace that the majesty of 
 their woodland aisles so unlike this pillared sham had 
 taught her OAvn passionate heart, had she but dared. Min- 
 gling with this imperfect theology, she felt she could have 
 proved to him also that a brunette and a woman of her ex- 
 perience was better than an immature blonde. She began to 
 loathe herself for coming hither, and dreaded to meet his 
 face. Here a sudden thought struck her. What if he had 
 not come here ? What if she had been mistaken ? What if 
 her rash interpretation of his absence from the woods that 
 night was simple madness ? What if he should return if
 
 *IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 77 
 
 he had already returned ? She rose to her feet, whitening, 
 yet joyful with the thought. She would return at once ; 
 what was the girl to her now ? Yet there was time to 
 satisfy herself if he were at her house. She had been told 
 where it was ; she could find it in the dark ; an open door 
 or window would betray some sign or sound of the occu- 
 pants. She rose, replaced her hat over her eyes, knotted 
 her flaunting scarf around her throat, groped her way to 
 the door, and glided into the outer darkness.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 IT was quite dark when Mr. Jack Brace stopped before 
 Father Wynn's open door. The windows were also invit- 
 ingly open to the wayfarer, as were the pastoral counsels of 
 Father Wynn, delivered to some favored guest within, in a 
 tone of voice loud enough for a pulpit. Jack Brace paused. 
 The visitor was the convalescent sheriff, Jim Dunn, who 
 had publicly commemorated his recovery by making his 
 first call upon the father of his inamorata. The Eev. Mr. 
 Wynn had been expatiating upon the unremitting heat 
 as a possible precursor of forest fires, and exhibiting some 
 catholic knowledge of the designs of a Deity in that regard, 
 and what should be the policy of the Legislature, when Mr. 
 Brace concluded to enter. Mr. Wynn and the wounded 
 man, who occupied an armchair by the window, were the 
 only occupants of the room. But in spite of the former's 
 ostentatious greeting, Brace could see that his visit was 
 inopportune and unwelcome. The sheriff nodded a quick, 
 impatient recognition, which, had it not been accompanied 
 by an anathema on the heat, might have been taken as a 
 personal insult. Neither spoke of Miss Nellie, although it 
 was patent to Brace that they were momentarily expecting 
 her all of which went far to strengthen a certain waver- 
 ing purpose in his mind. 
 
 " Ah, ha ! strong language, Mr. Dunn," said Father 
 Wynn, referring to the sheriff's adjuration ; " but ' out of 
 the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh.' Job, sir, 
 cursed, we are told, and even expressed himself in vigorous 
 Hebrew regarding his birthday. Ha, ha ! I 'm not op-
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 79 
 
 posed to that. When I have often wrestled with the spirit 
 I confess I have sometimes said, 'D n you.' Yes, sir, 
 1 D n you.' " 
 
 There was something so unutterably vile in the reverend 
 gentleman's utterance and emphasis of this oath that the 
 two men, albeit both easy and facile blasphemers, felt 
 shocked ; as the purest of actresses is apt to overdo the 
 rakishness of a gay Lothario, Father Wynn's immaculate 
 conception of an imprecation was something terrible. But 
 he added, " The law ought to interfere with the reckless 
 use of camp-fires in the woods in such weather by packers 
 and prospectors." 
 
 " It is n't so much the work of white men," broke in 
 Brace, " as it is of Greasers, Chinamen, and Diggers, espe- 
 cially Diggers. There's that blasted Low, ranges the 
 whole Carquinez Woods as if they were his. I reckon he 
 ain't particular just where he throws his matches." 
 
 " But he 's not a Digger ; he 's a Cherokee, and only a 
 half-breed at that," interpolated Wynn. "Unless," he 
 added, with the artful suggestion of the betrayed trust of 
 a too credulous Christian, " he deceived me in this as in 
 other things." 
 
 In what other things Low had deceived him he did not 
 say ; but, to the astonishment of both men, Dunn growled 
 a dissent to Brace's proposition. Either from some secret 
 irritation with that possible rival, or impatience at the pro- 
 longed absence of Nellie, he had " had enough of that sort 
 of hog-wash ladled out to him for genuine liquor." As to 
 the Carquinez Woods, he [Dunn] " did n't know why Low 
 had n't as much right there as if he 'd grabbed it under a 
 preemption law and did n't live there." With this hint at 
 certain speculations of Father Wynn in public lands for a 
 homestead, he added that " if they [Brace and Wynn] could 
 bring him along any older American settler than an Indian, 
 they might rake down his [Dunn's] pile." Unprepared
 
 80 IX THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 for tins turn in the conversation, Wynn hastened to explain 
 that he did not refer to the pure aborigine, whose gradual 
 extinction no one regretted more than himself, but to the 
 mongrel, who inherited only the vices of civilization. 
 " There should be a law, sir, against the mingling of races. 
 There are men, sir, who violate the laws of the Most High 
 by living with Indian women squaw men, sir, as they are 
 called." 
 
 Dunn rose with a face livid with weakness and passion. 
 " Who dares say that ? They are a d d sight better 
 than sneaking Northern Abolitionists, who married their 
 daughters to buck niggers like " But a spasm of pain 
 withheld this Parthian shot at the politics of his two com- 
 panions, and he sank back helplessly in his chair. 
 
 An awkward silence ensued. The three men looked at 
 each other in embarrassment and confusion. Dunn felt 
 that he had given way to a gratuitous passion ; Wynn had 
 a vague presentiment that he had said something that im- 
 periled his daughter's prospects ; and Brace was divided 
 between an angry retort and the secret purpose already 
 alluded to. 
 
 " It 's all the blasted heat," said Dunn, with a forced 
 smile, pushing away the whiskey which Wynn had osten- 
 tatiously placed before him. 
 
 " Of course," said Wynn hastily ; " only it 's a pity 
 Nellie ain't here to give you her smelling-salts. She ought 
 to be back now," he added, no longer mindful of Brace's 
 presence ; " the coach is over-due now, though I reckon the 
 heat made Yuba Bill take it easy at the up grade." 
 
 " If you mean the coach from Indian Spring," said 
 Brace quietly, " it 's in already ; but Miss Nellie did n't 
 come on it." 
 
 " Maybe she got out at the Crossing," said Wynn 
 cheerfully ; "she sometimes does." 
 
 " She did n't take the coach at Indian Spring," returned
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 81 
 
 Brace, " because I saw it leave, and passed it on Buckskin 
 ten minutes ago, coming up the hills." 
 
 " She 's stopped over at Burnham's," said Wynn reflec- 
 tively. Then, in response to the significant silence of his 
 guests, he added, in a tone of chagrin which his forced 
 heartiness could not disguise, " Well, boys, it 's a disap- 
 pointment all round ; but we must take the lesson as it 
 comes. I '11 go over to the coach-office and see if she 's 
 sent any word. Make yourselves at home until I return." 
 
 When the door had closed behind him, Brace arose and 
 took his hat as if to go. With his hand on the lock, he 
 turned to his rival, who, half-hidden in the gathering dark- 
 ness, still seemed unable to comprehend his ill luck. 
 
 " If you 're waiting for that bald-headed fraud to come 
 back with the truth about his daughter," said Brace coolly, 
 " you 'd better send for your things and take up your lodg- 
 ings here." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Dunn sternly. 
 
 " I mean that she 's not at the Burnhams' ; I mean 
 that he does or does not know where she is, and that in 
 either case he is not likely to give you information. But 
 I can." 
 
 You can ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then, where is she ? " 
 
 " In the Carquinez Woods, in the arms of the man you 
 were just defending Low, the half-breed." 
 
 The room had become so dark that from the road no- 
 thing could be distinguished. Only the momentary sound 
 of struggling feet was heard. 
 
 " Sit down," said Brace's voice, " and don't be a fool. 
 You 're too weak, and it ain't a fair fight. Let go your 
 hold. I 'm not lying I wish to God I was ! " 
 
 There was a silence, and Brace resumed, " We 've been 
 rivals, I know. Maybe I thought my chance as good as
 
 82 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 yours. If what I say ain't truth, we '11 stand as we stood 
 before ; and if you 're on the shoot, I 'm your man when 
 you like, where you like, or on sight if you choose. But I 
 can't see another man played upon as I 've been played 
 upon given dead away as I have been. It ain't on the 
 square. 
 
 " There," he continued, after a pause, " that 's right ; 
 now steady. Listen. A week ago that girl went down 
 just like this to Indian Spring. It was given out, like 
 this, that she went to the Burnhams'. I don't mind saying, 
 Dunn, that I went down myself, all on the square, think- 
 ing I might get a show to talk to her, just as you might 
 have done, you know, if you had my chance. I did n't 
 come across her anywhere. But two men that I met 
 thought they recognized her in a disguise going into the 
 woods. Not suspecting anything, I went after her ; saw 
 her at a distance in the middle of the woods in another 
 dress that I can swear to, and was just coming up to her 
 when she vanished went like a squirrel up a tree, or 
 down like a gopher in the ground, but vanished." 
 
 " Is that all ? " said Dunn's voice. " And just because 
 you were a d d fool, or had taken a little too much 
 whiskey, you thought " 
 
 " Steady ! That 's just what I said to myself," inter- 
 rupted Brace coolly, "particularly when I saw her that 
 same afternoon in another dress, saying good-by to the 
 Burnhams, as fresh as a rose and as cold as those snow- 
 peaks. Only one thing she had a ring on her finger she 
 never wore before, and did n't expect me to see." 
 
 " What if she did ? She might have bought it. I 
 reckon she has n't to consult you," broke in Dunn's voice 
 sternly. 
 
 " She did n't buy it," continued Brace quietly. " Low 
 gave that Jew trader a bearskin in exchange for it, and 
 presented it to her. I found that out two days afterwards.
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 83 
 
 I found out that out of the whole afternoon she spent less 
 than an hour with the Burnhams. I found out that she 
 hought a duster like the disguise the two men saw her in. 
 I found the yellow dress she wore that day hanging up in 
 Low's cabin the place where I saw her go the rendez- 
 vous where she meets him. Oh, you 're listening are you ? 
 Stop ! SIT DOWN ! 
 
 " I discovered it by accident," continued the voice of 
 Brace when all was again quiet ; " it was hidden as only a 
 squirrel or an Injin can hide when they improve upon na- 
 ture. When I was satisfied that the girl had been in the 
 woods, I was determined to find out where she vanished, 
 and went there again. Prospecting around, I picked up at 
 the foot of one of the biggest trees this yer old memoran- 
 dum-book, with grasses and herbs stuck in it. I remem- 
 bered that I'd heard old Wynn say that Low, like the 
 d d Digger that he was, collected these herbs ; only he 
 pretended it was for science. I reckoned the book was 
 his and that he mightn't be far away. I lay low and 
 waited. Bimeby I saw a lizard running down the root. 
 When he got sight of me he stopped." 
 
 " D n the lizard ! What 's that got to do with where 
 she is now ? " 
 
 " Everything. That lizard had a piece of sugar in his 
 mouth. Where did it come from ? I made him drop it, 
 and calculated he 'd go back for more. He did. He 
 scooted up that tree and slipped in under some hanging 
 strips of bark. I shoved 'em aside, and found an opening 
 to the hollow where they do their housekeeping." 
 
 " But you did n't see her there and how do you know 
 she is there now ? " 
 
 " I determined to make it sure. When she left to-day, 
 I started an hour ahead of her, and hid myself at the edge 
 of the woods. An hour after the coach arrived at Indian 
 Spring, she came there in a brown duster, and was joined
 
 84 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 by him. I 'd have followed them, but the d d hound has 
 the ears of a squirrel, and though I was five hundred yards 
 from him he was on his guard." 
 
 " Guard be blessed ! Was n't you armed ? Why did n't 
 you go for him ? " said Dunn furiously. 
 
 " I reckoned I 'd leave that for you," said Brace coolly. 
 "If he'd killed me, and if he 'd even covered me with his 
 rifle, he 'd be sure to let daylight through me at double the 
 distance, I should n't have been any better off, nor you 
 either. If I 'd killed him, it would have been your duty 
 as sheriff to put me in jail ; and I reckon it would n't have 
 broken your heart, Jim Dunn, to have got rid of two rivals 
 instead of one. Hullo ! Where are you going ? " 
 
 "Going?" said Dunn hoarsely. "Going to the Car- 
 quinez Woods, by God ! to kill him before her. /'ll risk 
 it, if you dare n't. Let me succeed, and you can hang me, 
 and take the girl yourself." 
 
 " Sit down, sit down. Don't be a fool, Jim Dunn ! 
 You would n't keep the saddle a hundred yards. Did I 
 say I would n't help you ? No. If you 're willing, we '11 
 run the risk together, but it must be in my way. Hear 
 me. I '11 drive you down' there in a buggy before daylight, 
 and we '11 surprise them in the cabin or as they leave the 
 wood. But you must come as if to arrest him for some 
 offense say, as an escaped Digger from the Reservation, a 
 dangerous tramp, a destroyer of public property in the 
 forests, a suspected road agent, or anything to give you 
 the right to hunt him. The exposure of him and Xellie, 
 don't you see, must be accidental. If he resists, kill him 
 on the spot, and nobody '11 blame you ; if he goes peaceably 
 with you, and you once get him in Excelsior jail, when the 
 story gets out that he 's taken the belle of Excelsior for his 
 squaw, if you 'd the angels for your posse you could n't 
 keep the boys from hanging him to the first tree. What 's 
 that ?
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 85 
 
 He walked to the window, and looked out cautiously. 
 
 " If it was the old man coming back and listening," he 
 said, after a pause, " it can't be helped. He '11 hear it soon 
 enough, if he don't suspect something already." 
 
 "Look yer, Brace," broke in Dunn hoarsely. "D d 
 if I understand you, or you me. That dog Low has got 
 to answer to me, not to the law ! I '11 take my risk of 
 killing him, on sight and on the square. I don't reckon 
 to handicap myself with a warrant, and I am not going 
 to draw him out with a lie. You hear me ? That 's me 
 all the time ! " 
 
 " Then you calkilate to go down thar," said Brace con- 
 temptuously, " yell out for him and Nellie, and let him line 
 you on a rest from the first tree as if you were a grizzly." 
 
 There was a pause. " What 's that you were saying 
 just now about a bearskin he sold ? " asked Dunn slowly, 
 as if reflecting. 
 
 " He exchanged a bearskin," replied Brace, " with a 
 single hole right over the heart. He 's a dead-shot, I tell 
 you." 
 
 " D n his shooting," said Dunn. " I 'm not thinking 
 of that. How long ago did he bring in that bearskin ? " 
 
 " About two weeks, I reckon. Why ? " 
 
 " Nothing ! Look yer, Brace, you mean well thar 's 
 my hand. I '11 go down with you there, but not as the 
 sheriff. I 'm going there as Jim Dunn, and you can 
 come along as a white man, to see things fixed on the 
 square. Come ! " 
 
 Brace hesitated. " You '11 think better of my plan before 
 you get there ; but I 've said I 'd stand by you, and I will. 
 Come, then. There 's no time to lose." 
 
 They passed out into the darkness together. 
 
 " What are you waiting for ? " said Dunn impatiently, 
 as Brace, who was supporting him by the arm, suddenly 
 halted at the corner of the house.
 
 86 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 " Some one was listening did you not see him ? Was 
 it the old man ? " asked Brace hurriedly. 
 
 " Blast the old man ! It was only one of them Mexican 
 packers chock-full of whiskey, and trying to hold up the 
 house. What are you thinking of ? We shall be late." 
 
 In spite of his weakness, the wounded man hurriedly 
 urged Brace forward, until they reached the latter's lodg- 
 ings. To his surprise, the horse and buggy were already 
 before the door. 
 
 " Then you reckoned to go, anyway ? " said Dunn, 
 with a searching look at his companion. 
 
 " I calkilated somebody would go," returned Brace 
 evasively, patting the impatient Buckskin ; " but come in 
 and take a drink before we leave." 
 
 Dunn started out of a momentary abstraction, put his 
 hand on his hip, and mechanically entered the house. 
 They had scarcely raised the glasses to their lips when a 
 sudden rattle of wheels was heard in the street. Brace 
 set down his glass and ran to the window. 
 
 " It 's the mare bolted," he said, with an oath. " We 've 
 kept her too long standing. Follow me ; " and he dashed 
 down the staircase into the street. Dunn followed with 
 difficulty ; when he reached the door he was confronted by 
 his breathless companion. " She 's gone off on a run, and 
 I'll swear there was a man in the buggy ! " He stopped 
 and examined the halter-strap, still fastened to the fence. 
 " Cut ! by God ! " 
 
 Dunn turned pale with passion. " Who 's got another 
 horse and buggy ? " he demanded. 
 
 " The new blacksmith in Main Street ; but we won't get 
 it by borrowing," said Brace. 
 
 " How, then ? " asked Dunn savagely. 
 
 " Seize it, as the sheriff of Yuba and his deputy, pursu- 
 ing a confederate of the Injin Low 'THE HORSE-THIEF ! "
 
 CHAPTEE VIII 
 
 THE brief hour of darkness that preceded the dawn was 
 that night intensified by a dense smoke, which, after blot- 
 ting out horizon and sky, dropped a thick veil on the high- 
 road and the silent streets of Indian Spring. As the buggy 
 containing Sheriff Dunn and Brace dashed through the 
 obscurity, Brace suddenly turned to his companion. 
 
 " Some one ahead ! " 
 
 The two men bent forward over the dashboard. Above 
 the steady plunging of their own horsehoofs they could hear 
 the quicker, irregular beat of other hoofs in the darkness 
 before them. 
 
 " It 's that horse-thief ! " said Dunn, in a savage whisper. 
 " Bear to the right, and hand me the whip. " 
 
 A dozen cuts of the cruel lash, and their maddened 
 horse, bounding at each stroke, broke into a wild canter. 
 The frail vehicle swayed from side to side at each spring of 
 the elastic shafts. Steadying himself by one hand on the 
 low rail, Dunn drew his revolver with the other. " Sing 
 out to him to pull up, or we '11 fire. My voice is clean 
 gone," he added, in a husky whisper. 
 
 They were so near that they could distinguish the bulk 
 of a vehicle careering from side to side in the blackness 
 ahead. Dunn deliberately raised his weapon. " Sing 
 out ! " he repeated impatiently. But Brace, who was still 
 keeping in the shadow, suddenly grasped his companion's 
 arm. 
 
 " Hush ! It 's not Buckskin," he whispered hurriedly. 
 
 " Are you sure ? "
 
 88 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 (t Don't you see we 're gaining on him ? " replied the 
 other contemptuously. Dunn grasped his companion's hand 
 and pressed it silently. Even in that supreme moment this 
 horseman's tribute to the fugitive Buckskin forestalled all 
 baser considerations of pursuit and capture ! 
 
 In twenty seconds they were abreast of the stranger, 
 crowding his horse and buggy nearly into the ditch ; Brace 
 keenly watchful, Dunn suppressed and pale. In half a 
 minute they were leading him a length ; and when their 
 horse again settled down to his steady work, the stranger 
 was already lost in the circling dust that followed them. 
 But the victors seemed disappointed. The obscurity had 
 completely hidden all but the vague outlines of the myste- 
 rious driver. 
 
 " He 's not our game, anyway," whispered Dunn. 
 " Drive on." 
 
 "But if it was some friend of his," suggested Brace 
 uneasily, " what would you do ? " 
 
 " What I said I 'd do," responded Dunn savagely. " I 
 don't want five minutes to do it in either ; we '11 be half 
 an hour ahead of that d d fool, whoever he is. Look 
 here ; all you 've got to do is to put me in the trail to that 
 cabin. Stand back of me, out of gunshot, alone, if you 
 like, as my deputy, or with any number you can pick up as 
 my posse. If he gets by me as Nellie's lover, you may 
 shoot him or take him as a horse-thief, if you like." 
 
 " Then you won't shoot him on sight ? " 
 
 " Not till I 've had a word with him." 
 
 But " 
 
 " I 've chirped," said the sheriff gravely. " Drive on." 
 
 For a few moments only the plunging hoofs and rattling 
 wheels were heard. A dull, lurid glow began to define the 
 horizon. They were silent until an abatement of the 
 smoke, the vanishing of the gloomy horizon line, and a 
 certain impenetrability in the darkness ahead showed them
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 89 
 
 they were nearing the Carquinez Woods. But they were 
 surprised on entering them to find the dim aisles alight 
 with a faint mystic aurora. The tops of the towering 
 spires above them had caught the gleam of the distant forest 
 fires, and reflected it as from a gilded dome. 
 
 " It would be hot work if the Carquinez Woods should 
 conclude to take a hand in this yer little game that 's going 
 on over on the Divide yonder," said Brace, securing his 
 horse and glancing at the spires overhead. " I reckon I 'd 
 rather take a back seat at Injin Spring when the show 
 commences." 
 
 Dunn did not reply, but, buttoning his coat, placed one 
 hand on his companion's shoulder, and sullenly bade him 
 "lead the way." Advancing slowly and with difficulty, 
 the desperate man might have been taken for a peaceful 
 invalid returning from an early morning stroll. His right 
 hand was buried thoughtfully in the side pocket of his coat. 
 Only Brace knew that it rested on the handle of his pistol. 
 
 From time to time the latter stopped and consulted the 
 faint trail with a minuteness that showed recent careful 
 study. Suddenly he paused. " I made a blaze hereabouts 
 to show where to leave the trail. There it is," he added, 
 pointing to a slight notch cut in the trunk of an adjoining 
 tree. 
 
 "But we've just passed one," said Dunn, "if that's 
 what you are looking after, a hundred yards back." 
 
 Brace uttered an oath, and ran back in the direction 
 signified by his companion. Presently he returned with a 
 smile of triumph. 
 
 " They 've suspected something. It 's a clever trick, but 
 it won't hold water. That blaze which was done to muddle 
 you was cut with an axe ; this which I made was done with 
 a bowie-knife. It 's the real one. We 're not far off now. 
 Come on." 
 
 They proceeded cautiously, at right angles with the
 
 90 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 " blazed " tree, for ten minutes more. The heat was op- 
 pressive ; drops of perspiration rolled from the forehead of 
 the sheriff, and at times, when he attempted to steady his 
 uncertain limbs, his hands shrank from the heated, blister- 
 ing bark he touched with ungloved palms. 
 
 " Here we are," said Brace, pausing at last. " Do you 
 see that biggest tree, with the root stretching out halfway 
 across to the opposite one ? " 
 
 " No ; it 's further to the right and abreast of the dead 
 brush," interrupted Dunn quickly, with a sudden revela- 
 tion that this was the spot where he had found the dead 
 bear, the night Teresa escaped. 
 
 " That 's so," responded Brace, in astonishment. 
 
 "And the opening is on the other side, opposite the 
 dead brush," said Dunn. 
 
 " Then you know it ? " said Brace suspiciously. 
 
 " I reckon ! " responded Dunn grimly. " That 's enough ! 
 Fall back ! " 
 
 To the surprise of his companion, he lifted his head 
 erect, and with a strong, firm step walked directly to the 
 tree. Eeaching it, he planted himself squarely before the 
 opening. 
 
 " Halloo ! " he said. 
 
 There was no reply. A squirrel scampered away close 
 to his feet. Brace, far in the distance, after an ineffectual 
 attempt to distinguish his companion through the interven- 
 ing trunks, took off his coat, leaned against a tree, and lit a 
 cigar. 
 
 " Come out of that cabin ! " continued Dunn, in a clear, 
 resonant voice. " Come out before I drag you out ! " 
 
 " All right, ' Captain Scott.' Don't shoot, and I '11 come 
 down," said a voice as clear and as high as his own. The 
 hanging strips of bark were dashed aside, and a woman 
 leaped lightly to the ground. 
 
 Dunn staggered back. "Teresa ! by the Eternal ! "
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 91 
 
 It was Teresa, the old Teresa ! Teresa, a hundred 
 times more vicious, reckless, hysterical, extravagant, and 
 outrageous than before, Teresa, staring with tooth and 
 eye, sunburnt and embrowned, her hair hanging down 
 her shoulders, and her shawl drawn tightly around her 
 neck. 
 
 " Teresa it is ! the same old gal ! Here we are again ! 
 Return of the favorite in her original character ! For two 
 weeks only ! Houp Ik ! Tshk ! " and, catching her yellow 
 skirt with her fingers, she pirouetted before the astounded 
 man, and ended in a pose. Recovering himself with 
 an effort, Dunn dashed forward and seized her by the 
 wrist. 
 
 " Answer me, woman ! Is that Low's cabin ? " 
 
 " It is." 
 
 " Who occupies it besides ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " And who else ? " 
 
 " Well," drawled Teresa slowly, with an extravagant affec- 
 tation of modesty, " nobody else but us, I reckon. Two 's 
 company, you know, and three 's none." 
 
 " Stop ! Will you swear that there is n't a young girl, 
 his his sweetheart concealed there with you ? " 
 
 The fire in Teresa's eye was genuine as she answered 
 steadily, " Well, it ain't my style to put up with that sort 
 of thing ; at least, it was n't over at Yolo, and you know 
 it, Jim Dunn, or I would n't be here." 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Dunn hurriedly. " But I 'm a d d 
 fool, or worse, the fool of a fool. Tell me, Teresa, is this 
 man Low your lover ? " 
 
 Teresa lowered her eyes as if in maidenly confusion. 
 " Well, if I 'd known that you had any feeling of your 
 own about it if you 'd spoken sooner " 
 
 " Answer me, you devil ! " 
 
 "He is."
 
 92 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 "And he has been with you here yesterday to- 
 night ? " 
 
 "He has." 
 
 "Enough." He laughed a weak, foolish laugh, and, 
 turning pale, suddenly lapsed against a tree. He would 
 have fallen, but with a quick instinct Teresa sprang to his 
 side, and supported him gently to a root. The action over, 
 they both looked astounded. 
 
 " I reckon that was n't much like either you or me," 
 said Dunn slowly, " was it ? But if you 'd let me drop 
 then you 'd have stretched out the biggest fool in the Sier- 
 ras." He paused, and looked at her curiously. " What 's 
 come over you ; blessed if I seem to know you now." 
 
 She was very pale again, and quiet that was all. 
 
 " Teresa ! d n it, look here ! When I was laid up 
 yonder in Excelsior I said I wanted to get well for only 
 two things. One was to hunt you down, the other to 
 marry Nellie Wynn. When I came here I thought that 
 last thing could never be. I came here expecting to find 
 her here with Low, and kill him perhaps kill her too. 
 I never even thought of you ; not once. You might have 
 risen up before me between me and him and I 'd 
 have passed you by. And now that I find it 's all a mis- 
 take, and it was you, not her, I was looking for, why " 
 
 "Why," she interrupted bitterly, "you '11 just take me, 
 of course, to save your time and earn your salary. I 'm 
 ready." 
 
 " But, I 'm not, just yet," he said faintly. " Help me 
 up." She mechanically assisted him to his feet. 
 
 " Now stand where you are," he added, " and don't 
 move beyond this tree till I return." 
 
 He straightened himself with an effort, clenched his fists 
 until the nails were nearly buried in his palms, and strode 
 with a firm, steady step in the direction he had come. In 
 a few moments he returned and stood before her. 

 
 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 93 
 
 " I 've sent away my deputy the man who brought me 
 here, the fool who thought you were Nellie. He knows 
 now he made a mistake. But who it was he mistook for 
 Nellie he does not know, nor shall ever know, nor shall 
 any living being know, other than myself, And when I 
 leave the wood to-day I shall know it no longer. You are 
 safe here as far as I am concerned, but I cannot screen you 
 from others prying. Let Low take you away from here as 
 soon as he can." 
 
 " Let him take me away ? Ah, yes. For what ? " 
 
 " To save you," said Dunn. " Look here, Teresa ! 
 Without knowing it, you lifted me out of hell just now ; 
 and because of the wrong I might have done her for her 
 sake, I spare you and shirk my duty." 
 
 " For her sake ! " gasped the woman " for her sake ! 
 Oh, yes! Goon." 
 
 " Well," said Dunn gloomily, " I reckon perhaps you 'd 
 as lieve left me in hell, for all the love you bear me. And 
 maybe you 've grudge enough agin me still to wish I 'd 
 found her and him together." 
 
 " You think so ? " she said, turning her head away. 
 
 " There, d n it ! I did n't mean to make you cry. 
 Maybe you would n't, then. Only tell that fellow to take 
 you out of this, and not run away the next time he sees a 
 man coming." 
 
 " He did n't run," said Teresa, with flashing eyes. " I 
 I I sent him away," she stammered. Then, sud- 
 denly turning with fury upon him, she broke out, " Run ! 
 Run from you ! Ha, ha ! You said just now I 'd a grudge 
 against you. Well, listen, Jim Dunn. I 'd only to bring 
 you in range of that young man's rifle, and you 'd have 
 dropped in your tracks like " 
 
 " Like that b'ar, the other night," said Dunn, with a 
 short laugh. " So that was your little game ? " He 
 checked his laugh suddenly a cloud passed over his face.
 
 94 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 " Look here, Teresa," he said, with an assumption of care- 
 lessness that was as transparent as it was utterly incom- 
 patible with his frank, open selfishness. " What became of 
 that b'ar ? The skin eh ? That was worth something ? " 
 
 " Yes,'.' said Teresa quietly. " Low exchanged it and 
 got a ring for me from that trader Isaacs. It was worth 
 more, you bet. And the ring did n't fit either " 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Dunn, with almost childish eagerness. 
 
 " And I made him take it back, and get the value in 
 money. I hear that Isaacs sold it again and made another 
 profit ; but that 's like those traders." The disingenuous 
 candor of Teresa's manner was in exquisite contrast to 
 Dunn. He rose and grasped her hand so heartily she was 
 forced to turn her eyes away. 
 
 " Good-by ! " he said. 
 
 " You look tired," she murmured, with' a sudden gentle- 
 ness that surprised him ; " let me go with you a part of the 
 way." 
 
 " It is n't safe for you just now," he said, thinking of 
 the possible consequences of the alarm Brace had raised. 
 
 " Not the way you came," she replied ; " but one known 
 only to myself." 
 
 He hesitated only a moment. " All right, then," he 
 said finally ; " let us go at once. It 's suffocating here, 
 and I seem to feel this dead bark crinkle under my feet." 
 
 She cast a rapid glance around her, and then seemed to 
 sound with her eyes the far-off depths of the aisles, begin- 
 ning to grow pale Avith the advancing day, but still holding 
 a strange quiver of heat in the air. When she had finished 
 her half-abstracted scrutiny of the distance, she cast one 
 backward glance at her own cabin, and stopped. 
 
 " Will you wait a moment for me ? " she asked gently. 
 
 "Yes but no tricks, Teresa! It isn't worth the 
 time." 
 
 She looked him squarely in the eyes without a word.
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 95 
 
 " Enough," he said ; " go ! " 
 
 She was absent for some moments. He was beginning 
 to become uneasy, when she made her appearance again 
 clad in her old faded black dress. Her face was very 
 pale, and her eyes were swollen, but she placed his hand 
 on her shoulder, and bidding him not to fear to lean upon 
 her, for she was quite strong, led the way. 
 
 " You look more like yourself now, and yet blast it 
 all ! you don't either," said Dunn, looking down upon 
 her. " You 've changed in some way. What is it ? Is 
 it on account of that Injin ? Could n't you have found a 
 white man in his place ? " 
 
 " I reckon he 's neither worse nor better for that," she 
 replied bitterly ; " and perhaps he was n't as particular 
 in his taste as a white man might have been. But," she 
 added, with a sudden spasm of her old rage^, " it 's a lie ; 
 he 's not an Indian, no more than I am. Not \mless be- 
 ing born of a mother who scarcely knew him, of a father 
 who never even saw him, and being brought up among 
 white men and wild beasts less cruel than they were, 
 could make him one ! " 
 
 Dunn looked at her in surprise not unmixed with ad- 
 miration. " If Nellie," he thought, " could but love me 
 like that ! " But he only said : 
 
 " For all that, he 's an Injin. Why, look at his name. 
 It ain't Low. It's L'Eau Dormante, Sleeping Water, an 
 Injin name." 
 
 " And what does that prove ? " returned Teresa. " Only 
 that Indians clap a nickname on any stranger, white or 
 red, who may cainp with them. Why, even his own father, 
 a white man, the wretch who begot him and abandoned him, 
 he had an Indian name, Loup Noir." 
 
 " What name did you say ? " 
 
 " Le Loup Noir, the Black Wolf. I suppose you 'd call 
 him an Indian, too ? Eh ? W^hat 's the matter ? We 're
 
 96 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 walking too fast. Stop a moment and rest. There 
 there, lean on me ! " 
 
 She was none too soon ; for, after holding him upright 
 a moment, his limbs failed, and stooping gently she was 
 obliged to support him half reclining against a tree. 
 
 " It 's the heat ! " he said. " Give me some whiskey 
 from my flask. Never mind the water," he added faintly, 
 with a forced laugh, after he had taken a draught of the 
 strong spirit. " Tell me more about the other water 
 the Sleeping Water, you know. How do you know all 
 this about him and his father ? " 
 
 " Partly from him and partly from Curson, who wrote 
 to me about him," she answered, with some hesitation. 
 
 But Dunn did not seem to notice this incongruity of 
 correspondence with a former lover. "And he told you ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and I saw the name on an old memorandum- 
 book he has, which he says belonged to his father. It 's 
 full of old accounts of some trading-post on the frontier. 
 It's been missing for a day or two, but it will turn up. 
 But I can swear I saw it." 
 
 Dunn attempted to rise to his feet. " Put your hand in 
 my pocket," he said in a hurried whisper. " No, there ! 
 bring out a book. There, I have n't looked at it yet. 
 Is that it ? " he added, handing her the book Brace had 
 given him a few hours before. 
 
 "Yes," said Teresa, in surprise. "Where did you find it?" 
 
 " Never mind ! Now let me see it quick. Open it, for 
 my sight is failing. There thank you that's all ! " 
 
 "Take more whiskey," said Teresa, with a strange 
 anxiety creeping over her. " You are faint again." 
 
 " Wait ! Listen, Teresa lower put your ear lower. 
 Listen ! I came near killing that chap Low to-day. 
 Would n't it have been ridiculous ? " 
 
 He tried to smile, but his head fell back. He had 
 fainted.
 
 CHAPTEE IX 
 
 FOR the first time in her life Teresa lost her presence of 
 mind in an emergency. She could only sit staring at the 
 helpless man, scarcely conscious of his condition, her mind 
 filled with a sudden prophetic intuition of the significance 
 of his last words. In the light of that new revelation she 
 looked into his pale, haggard face for some resemblance to 
 Low, hut in vain. Yet her swift feminine instinct met the 
 objection. " It 's the mother's blood that would show," she 
 murmured, " not this man's." 
 
 Eecovering herself, she began to chafe his hands and 
 temples, and moistened his lips with the spirit. When 
 his respiration returned with a faint color to his cheeks, 
 she pressed his hand eagerly and leaned over him. 
 
 " Are you sure ? " she asked. 
 
 " Of what ? " he whispered faintly. 
 
 " That Low is really your son ? " 
 
 " Who said so ? " he asked, opening his round eyes upon 
 her. 
 
 " You did yourself, a moment ago," she said quickly. 
 "Don't you remember ? " 
 
 "Did I?" 
 
 " You did. Is it so ? " 
 
 He smiled faintly. " I reckon." 
 
 She held her breath in expectation. But only the ludi- 
 crousness of .the discovery seemed paramount to his weak- 
 ened faculties. " Is n't it just about the ridiculousest thing 
 all round ? " he said, with a feeble chuckle. " First you 
 nearly kill me before you know I am Low's father ; then
 
 98 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 I 'm just spoilin' to kill him before I know he 's my son ; 
 then that god-forsaken fool Jack Brace mistakes you for 
 Nellie, and Nellie for you. Ain't it just the biggest thing 
 for the boys to get hold of ? But we must keep it dark 
 until after I marry Nellie, don't you see ? Then we '11 
 have a good time all round, and I '11 stand the drinks. 
 Think of it, Teresha ! You don' know me, I do' know you, 
 nobody knowsh anybody elsh. I try kill Lo'. Lo' wants 
 kill Nellie. No thash no' ri " But the potent liquor, 
 overtaking his exhausted senses, thickened, impeded, and 
 at last stopped his speech. His head slipped to her shoul- 
 der, and he became once more unconscious. 
 
 Teresa breathed again. In that brief moment she had 
 abandoned herself to a wild inspiration of hope which she 
 could scarcely define. Not that it was entirely a wild in- 
 spiration ; she tried to reason calmly. What if she re- 
 vealed the truth to him ? What if she told the wretched 
 man before her that she had deceived him ; that she had 
 overheard his conversation with Brace ; that she had 
 stolen Brace's horse to bring Low warning ; that, failing to 
 find Low in his accustomed haunts or at the camp-fire, 
 she had left a note for him pinned to the herbarium, im- 
 ploring him to fly with his companion from the danger that 
 was coming; and that, remaining on watch, she had seen 
 them both Brace and Dunn approaching, and had 
 prepared to meet them at the cabin ? Would this miser- 
 able and maddened man understand her self-abnegation ? 
 Would he forgive Low and Nellie ? she did not ask for 
 herself. Or would the revelation turn his brain, if it did 
 not kill him outright ? She looked at the sunken orbits of 
 his eyes and hectic on his cheek, and shuddered. 
 
 Why was this added to the agony she already suffered ? 
 She had been willing to stand between them with her life, 
 her liberty, and even the hot blood dyed her cheek at 
 the thought with the added shame of being thought the
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 99 
 
 cast-off mistress of that man's son. Yet all this she had 
 taken upon herself in expiation of something she knew 
 not clearly what ; no, for nothing only for him. And 
 yet this very situation offered her that gleam of hope which 
 had thrilled her ; a hope so wild in its improbability, so 
 degrading in its possibility, that at first she knew not 
 whether despair was not preferable to its shame. And yet 
 was it unreasonable ? She was no longer passionate ; she 
 would be calm and think it out fairly. 
 
 She would go to Low at once. She would find him 
 somewhere and even if with that girl, what mattered ? 
 and she would tell him all. When he knew that the life 
 and death of his father lay in the scale, would he let his 
 brief, foolish passion for Nellie stand in the way ? Even 
 if he were not influenced by filial affection or mere com- 
 passion, would his pride let him stoop to a rivalry with the 
 man who had deserted his youth ? Could he take Dunn's 
 promised bride, who must have coquetted with him to have 
 brought him to this miserable plight ? Was this like the 
 calm, proud young god she knew ? Yet she had an uneasy 
 instinct that calm, proud young gods and goddesses did 
 things like this, and felt the weakness of her reasoning flush 
 her own conscious cheek. 
 
 " Teresa ! " 
 
 She started. Dunn was awake, and was gazing at her 
 curiously. 
 
 " I was reckoning it was the only square thing for Low 
 to stop this promiscuous picnicking here and marry you out 
 and out." 
 
 " Marry me ! " said Teresa in a voice that, with all her 
 efforts, she could not make cynical. 
 
 " Yes," he repeated, " after I 've married Nellie ; tote 
 you down to San Angeles, and there take my name like a 
 man, and give it to you. Nobody '11 ask after Teresa, sure 
 you bet your life. And if they do, and he can't stop
 
 100 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 their jaw, just you call on the old man. It 's mighty 
 queer, ain't it, Teresa, to think of you being my daughter- 
 in-law ? " 
 
 It seemed here as if he was about to lapse again into 
 unconsciousness over the purely ludicrous aspect of the sub- 
 ject, but he haply recovered his seriousness. " He '11 have 
 as much money from me as he wants to go into business 
 with. What 's his line of business, Teresa ? " asked this 
 prospective father-in-law, in a large, liberal way. 
 
 " He is a botanist ! " said Teresa, with a sudden child- 
 ish animation that seemed to keep up the grim humor of 
 the paternal suggestion ; " and oh, he is too poor to buy 
 books ! I sent for one or two for him myself the other 
 day ! " she hesitated " it was all the money I had, but 
 it was n't enough for him to go on with his studies." 
 
 Dunn looked at her sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks, 
 and became thoughtful. " Curson must have been a d d 
 fool," he said finally. 
 
 Teresa remained silent. She was beginning to be im- 
 patient and uneasy, fearing some mischance that might 
 delay her dreaded yet longed-for meeting with Low. Yet 
 she could not leave this sick and exhausted man, his father, 
 now bound to her by more than mere humanity. 
 
 " Could n't you manage," she said gently, " to lean on 
 me a few steps further, until I could bring you to a cooler 
 spot and nearer assistance ? " 
 
 He nodded. She lifted him almost like a child to his 
 feet. A spasm of pain passed over his face. " How far is 
 it?" 
 
 " Not more than ten minutes," she replied. 
 
 " I can make a spurt for that time," he said coolly, and 
 began to walk slowly but steadily on. Only his face, 
 which was white and set, and the convulsive grip of his 
 hand on her arm, betrayed the effort. At the end of ten 
 minutes she stopped. They stood before the splintered,
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 101 
 
 lightning-scarred shaft in the opening of the woods, where 
 Low had huilt her first camp-fire. She carefully picked up 
 the herbarium, but her quick eye had already detected in 
 the distance, before she had allowed Dunn to enter the 
 opening with her, that her note was gone. Low had been 
 there before them ; he had been warned, as his absence 
 from the cabin showed ; he would not return there. They 
 were free from interruption but where had he gone ? 
 
 The sick man drew a long breath of relief as she seated 
 him in the clover-grown hollow where she had slept the 
 second night of her stay. " It 's cooler than those cursed 
 woods," he said. " I suppose it 's because it 's a little like 
 a grave. What are you going to do now ? " he added, 
 as she brought a cup of water and placed it at his side. 
 
 " I 'm going to leave you here for a little while," she 
 said cheerfully, but with a pale face and nervous hands. 
 " I'm going to leave you while I seek Low." 
 
 The sick man raised his head. " I 'm good for a spurt, 
 Teresa, like that I 've just got through, but I don't think 
 I 'm up to a family party. Could n't you issue cards later 
 on?" 
 
 " You don't understand," she said. " I 'm going to get 
 Low to send some one of your friends to you here. I 
 don't think he'll begrudge leaving her a moment for 
 that," she added to herself bitterly. 
 
 " What 's that you 're saying ? " he queried, with the 
 nervous quickness of an invalid. 
 
 " Nothing but that I 'm going now." She turned 
 her face aside to hide her moistened eyes. "Wish me 
 good luck, won't you ? " she asked, half sadly, half pet- 
 tishly. 
 
 "Come here!" 
 
 She came and bent over him. He suddenly raised his 
 hands, and, drawing her face down to his own, kissed her 
 forehead.
 
 102 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 " Give that to him" he whispered, " from me" 
 
 She turned and fled, happily for her sentiment, not 
 hearing the feeble laugh that followed, as Dunn, in sheer 
 imbecility, again referred to the extravagant ludicrousness 
 of the situation. " It is about the biggest thing in the 
 way of a sell all round," he repeated, lying on his back, 
 confidentially to the speck of smoke-obscured sky above 
 him. He pictured himself repeating it, not to Nellie 
 her severe propriety might at last overlook the fact, but 
 would not tolerate the joke but to her father ! It 
 would be just one of those characteristic Calif ornian jokes 
 Father Wynn would admire. 
 
 To his exhaustion fever presently succeeded, and he 
 began to grow restless. The heat, too, seemed to invade 
 his retreat, and from time to time the little patch of blue 
 sky was totally obscured by clouds of smoke. He amused 
 himself with watching a lizard who ' was investigating a 
 folded piece of paper, whose elasticity gave the little crea- 
 ture lively apprehensions of its vitality. At last he could 
 stand the stillness of his retreat and his supine position 
 no longer, and rolled himself out of the bed of leaves 
 that Teresa had so carefully prepared for him. He rose 
 to his feet stiff and sore, and, supporting himself by the 
 nearest tree, moved a few steps from the dead ashes of 
 the camp-fire. The movement frightened the lizard, who 
 abandoned the paper and fled. With a satirical recollection 
 of Brace and his " ridiculous " discovery through the me- 
 dium of this animal, he stooped and picked up the paper. 
 " Like as not," he said to himself with grim irony, " these 
 yer lizards are in the discovery business. P'r'aps this 
 may lead to another mystery ; " and he began to unfold 
 the paper with a smile. But the smile ceased as his eyes 
 suddenly caught his own name. 
 
 A dozen lines were written in pencil on what seemed to 
 be a blank leaf originally torn from some book. He
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 103 
 
 trembled so that he was obliged to sit down to read these 
 words : 
 
 When you get this, keep away from the woods. Dunn 
 and another man are in deadly pursuit of you and your 
 companion. I overheard their plan to surprise you in our 
 cabin. Don't go there, and I will delay them and put 
 them off the scent. Don't mind me. God bless you ; and 
 if you never see me again, think sometimes of 
 
 TERESA. 
 
 His trembling ceased ; he did not start, but rose in an 
 abstracted way, and made a few deliberate steps in the 
 direction Teresa had gone. Even then he was so confused 
 that he was obliged to refer to the paper again, but with 
 so little effect that he could only repeat the last words, 
 " think sometimes of Teresa." He was conscious that this 
 was not all ; he had a full conviction of being deceived, 
 and knew that he held the proof in his hand, but he could 
 not formulate it beyond that sentence. " Teresa " yes, 
 he would think of her. She would think of him. She 
 would explain it. And here she was returning. 
 
 In that brief interval her face and manner had again 
 changed. She was pale and quite breathless. She cast 
 a swift glance at Dunn and the paper he mechanically held 
 out, walked up to him, and tore it from his hand. 
 
 " Well," she said hoarsely, " what are you going to do 
 about it ? " 
 
 He attempted to speak, but his voice failed him. Even 
 then he was conscious that if he had spoken he would have 
 only repeated, " think sometimes of Teresa." He looked 
 longingly but helplessly at the spot where she had thrown 
 the paper, as if it had contained his unuttered words. 
 
 " Yes," she went on to herself, as if he was a mute, 
 indifferent spectator " yes, they 're gone. That ends it
 
 104 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 all. The game 's played out. Well ! " suddenly turning 
 upon him, " now you know it all. Your Nellie was here 
 with him, and is with him now. Do you hear ? Make 
 the most of it ; you 've lost them but here I am." 
 
 " Yes," he said eagerly " yes, Teresa." 
 
 She stopped, stared at him; then taking him by the 
 hand led him like a child back to his couch. "Well," 
 she said, in half-savage explanation, " I told you the truth 
 when I said the girl was n't at the cabin last night, and 
 that I did n't know her. What are you glowerin' at ? 
 No ! I have n't lied to you, I swear to God, except in one 
 thing. Do you know what that was ? To save him I took 
 upon me a shame I don't deserve. I let you think I was 
 his mistress. You think so now, don't you ? Well, before 
 God to-day and He may take me when He likes I 'm 
 no more to him than a sister ! I reckon your Nellie can't 
 say as much." 
 
 She turned away, and with the quick, impatient stride 
 of some caged animal made the narrow circuit of the open- 
 ing, stopping a moment mechanically before the sick man, 
 and again, without looking at him, continuing her monot- 
 onous round. The heat had become excessive, but she held 
 her shawl with both hands drawn tightly over her shoulders. 
 Suddenly a wood-duck darted out of the covert blindly 
 into the opening, struck against the blasted trunk, fell half 
 stunned near her feet, and then, recovering, fluttered away. 
 She had scarcely completed another circuit before the irrup- 
 tion was followed by a whirring bevy of quail, a flight of 
 jays, and a sudden tumult of wings swept through the wood 
 like a tornado. She turned inquiringly to Dunn, who had 
 risen to his feet, but the next moment she caught convul- 
 sively at his wrist : a wolf had just dashed through the 
 underbrush not a dozen yards away, and on either side of 
 them they could hear the scamper and rustle of hurrying 
 feet like the outburst of a summer shower. A cold wind
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 105 
 
 arose from the opposite direction, as if to contest this wild 
 exodus, but it was followed by a blast of sickening heat. 
 Teresa sank at Dunn's feet in an agony of terror. 
 
 "Don't let them touch me!" she gasped; "keep them 
 off! Tell me, for God's sake, what has happened!" 
 
 He laid his hand firmly on her arm, and lifted her in his 
 turn to her feet like a child. In that supreme moment of 
 physical danger, his strength, reason, and manhood returned 
 in their plenitude of power. He pointed coolly to the trail 
 she had quitted, and said : 
 
 " The Carquinez Woods are on fire ! "
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE nest of the tuneful Burnhams, although in the 
 suburbs of Indian Spring, was not in ordinary weather 
 and seasons hidden from the longing eyes of the youth of 
 that settlement. That night, however, it was veiled in 
 the smoke that encompassed the great highway leading to 
 Excelsior. It is presumed that the Burnham brood had 
 long since folded their wings, for there was no sign of life 
 nor movement in the house as a rapidly driven horse and 
 buggy pulled up before it. Fortunately, the paternal Burn- 
 ham was an early bird, in the habit of picking up the first 
 stirring mining worm, and a resounding knock brought him 
 half dressed to the street door. He was startled at seeing 
 Father Wynn before him, a trifle flushed and abstracted. 
 
 " Ah ha ! up betimes, I see, and ready. No sluggards 
 here ha, ha ! " he said heartily, slamming the door be- 
 hind him, and by a series of pokes in the ribs genially 
 backing his host into his own sitting-room. " I 'm up, too, 
 and am here to see Nellie. She 's here, eh of course ? " 
 he added, darting a quick look at Burnham. 
 
 But Mr. Burnham was one of those large, liberal West- 
 ern husbands who classified his household under the gen- 
 eral title of " woman folk," for the integers of which he 
 was not responsible. He hesitated, and then propounded 
 over the balusters to the upper story the direct query, 
 " You don't happen to have Nellie Wynn up there, do ye ? " 
 
 There was an interval of inquiry proceeding from half 
 a dozen reluctant throats, more or less cottony and muf- 
 fled, in those various degrees of grievance and mental
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 107 
 
 distress which indicate too early roused young womanhood. 
 The eventual reply seemed to be affirmative, albeit accom- 
 panied with a suppressed giggle, as if the young lady had 
 just been discovered as an answer to an amusing conun- 
 drum. 
 
 " All right," said Wynn, with an apparent accession of 
 boisterous geniality. " Tell her I must see her, and I 've 
 only got a few minutes to spare. Tell her to slip on any- 
 thing and come down ; there 's no one here but myself, 
 and I 've shut the front door on Brother Burnham. Ha, 
 ha ! " and suiting the action to the word, he actually 
 bundled the admiring Brother Burnham out on his own 
 doorstep. There was a light pattering on the staircase, 
 and Nellie Wynn, pink with sleep, very tall, very slim, 
 hastily draped in a white counterpane with a blue border 
 and a general classic suggestion, slipped into the parlor. 
 At the same moment the father shut the door behind her, 
 placed one hand on the knob, and with the other seized 
 her wrist. 
 
 " Where were you yesterday ? " he asked. 
 
 Nellie looked at him, shrugged her shoulders, and said, 
 " Here." 
 
 " You were in the Carquinez Woods with Low Dorman ; 
 you went there in disguise ; you 've met him there before. 
 He is your clandestine lover ; you have taken pledges of 
 affection from him ; you have " 
 
 " Stop ! " she said. 
 
 He stopped. 
 
 " Did he tell you this ? " she asked, with an expression 
 of disdain. 
 
 " No ; I overheard it. Dunn and Brace were at the 
 house waiting for you. When the coach did not bring you, 
 I went to the office to inquire. As I left our door I thought 
 I saw somebody listening at the parlor windows. It was 
 only a drunken Mexican muleteer leaning against the
 
 108 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 house ; but if he heard nothing, 7 did. Nellie, I heard 
 Brace tell Dunn that he had tracked you in your disguise 
 to the woods do you hear ? that when you pretended to 
 be here with the girls you were with Low alone ; that 
 you wear a ring that Low got of a trader here ; that there 
 was a cabin in the woods " 
 
 " Stop ! " she repeated. 
 
 Wynn again paused. 
 
 " And what did you do ? " she asked. 
 
 " I heard they were starting down there to surprise you 
 and him together, and I harnessed up and got ahead of 
 them in my buggy." 
 
 " And found me here," she said, looking full into his 
 eyes. 
 
 He understood her and returned the look. He recog- 
 nized the full importance of the culminating fact conveyed 
 in her words, and was obliged to content himself with its 
 logical and worldly significance. It was too late now to 
 take her to task for mere filial disobedience ; they must 
 become allies. 
 
 " Yes," he said hurriedly ; " but if you value your repu- 
 tation, if you wish to silence both these men, answer me 
 fully." 
 
 " Go on," she said. 
 
 " Did you go to the cabin in the woods yesterday ? " 
 
 No." 
 
 " Did you ever go there with Low ? " 
 
 " No ; I do not know even where it is." 
 
 Wynn felt that she was telling the truth. Nellie knew 
 it ; but as she would have been equally satisfied with an 
 equally efficacious falsehood, her face remained unchanged. 
 
 " And when did he leave you ? " 
 
 " At nine o'clock, here. He went to the hotel." 
 
 " He saved his life, then, for Dunn is on his way to the 
 woods to kill him."
 
 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 109 
 
 The jeopardy of her lover did not seem to affect the 
 young girl with alarm, although her eyes betrayed some 
 interest. 
 
 " Then Dunn has gone to the woods ? " she said thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " He has," replied Wynn. 
 
 " Is that all ? " she asked. 
 
 " I want to know what you are going to do ? " 
 
 " I was going back to bed." 
 
 " This is no time for trifling, girl." 
 
 " I should think not," she said, with a yawn ; " it 's too 
 early or too late." 
 
 Wynn grasped her wrist more tightly. " Hear me ! 
 Put whatever face you like on this affair, you are com- 
 promised and compromised with a man you can't marry." 
 
 " I don't know that I ever wanted to marry Low, if you 
 mean him," she said quietly. 
 
 " And Dunn would n't marry you now." 
 
 " I 'm not so sure of that either." 
 
 " Nellie," said Wynn excitedly, " do you want to drive 
 me mad ? Have you nothing to say nothing to suggest ?" 
 
 " Oh, you want me to help you, do you ? Why did n't 
 you say that first ? Well, go and bring Dunn here." 
 
 " Are you mad ? The man has gone already in pursuit 
 of your lover, believing you with him." 
 
 " Then he will the more readily come and talk with me 
 without him. Will you take the invitation yes or no ? " 
 
 "Yes, but" 
 
 "Enough. On your way there you will stop at the 
 hotel and give Low a letter from me." 
 
 " Nellie ! 
 
 " You shall read it, of course," she said scornfully, " for 
 it will be your text for the conversation you will have with 
 him. Will you please take your hand from the lock and 
 open the door ? "
 
 110 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 Wynn mechanically opened the door. The young girl 
 flew upstairs. In a very few moments she returned with 
 two notes : one contained a few lines of formal invitation 
 to Dunn ; the other read as follows : 
 
 DEAK MR. DORMAN, My father will tell you how 
 deeply I regret that our recent botanical excursions in 
 the Carquinez Woods have been a source of serious mis- 
 apprehension to those who had a claim to my considera- 
 tion, and that I shall be obliged to discontinue them for 
 the future. At the same time he wishes me to express 
 my gratitude for your valuable instruction and assistance 
 in that pleasing study, even though approaching events 
 may compel me to relinquish it for other duties. May I 
 beg you to accept the inclosed ring as a slight recognition 
 of my obligations to you ? 
 
 Your grateful pupil, 
 
 NELLIE WYNN. 
 
 When he had finished reading the letter, she handed him 
 a ring, which he took mechanically. He raised his eyes to 
 hers with perfectly genuine admiration. " You 're a good 
 girl, Nellie," he said, and, in a moment of parental forget- 
 fulness, unconsciously advanced his lips towards her cheek. 
 But she drew back in time to recall him to a sense of that 
 human weakness. 
 
 " I suppose I '11 have time for a nap yet," she said, as a 
 gentle hint to her embarrassed parent. He nodded, and 
 turned towards the door. 
 
 " If I were you," she continued, repressing a yawn, 
 " I 'd manage to be seen on good terms with Low at the 
 hotel ; so perhaps you need not give the letter to him 
 until the last thing. Good-by." 
 
 The sitting-room door opened and closed behind her as 
 she slipped upstairs, and her father, without the formality
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 111 
 
 of leave-taking, quietly let himself out by the front 
 door. 
 
 When he drove into the highroad again, however, an 
 overlooked possibility threatened for a moment to indefi- 
 nitely postpone his amiable intentions regarding Low. The 
 hotel was at the farther end of the settlement toward the 
 Carquinez Woods, and as Wynn had nearly reached it he 
 was recalled to himself by the sounds of hoofs and wheels 
 rapidly approaching from the direction of the Excelsior 
 turnpike. Wynn made no doubt it was the sheriff and 
 Brace. To avoid recognition at that moment, he whipped 
 up his horse, intending to keep the lead until he could 
 turn into the first cross-road. But the coming travelers 
 had the fleetest horse ; and finding it impossible to distance 
 them, he drove close to the ditch, pulling up suddenly as 
 the strange vehicle was abreast of him, and forcing them to 
 pass him at full speed, with the result already chronicled. 
 When they had vanished in the darkness, Mr. Wynn, with 
 a heart overflowing with Christian thankfulness and univer- 
 sal benevolence, wheeled round, and drove back to the hotel 
 he had already passed. To pull up at the veranda with a 
 stentorian shout, to thump loudly at the deserted bar, to 
 hilariously beat the panels of the landlord's door, and com- 
 mit a jocose assault and battery upon that half-dressed and 
 half-awakened man, was eminently characteristic of Wynn, 
 and part of his amiable plans that morning. 
 
 " Something to wash this wood smoke from my throat, 
 Brother Carter, and about as much again to prop open your 
 eyes," he said, dragging Carter before the bar, " and glasses 
 round for as many of the boys as are up and stirring after 
 a hard-working Christian's rest. How goes the honest pub- 
 lican's trade, and who have we here ? " 
 
 " Thar 's Judge Eobinson and two lawyers from Sacra- 
 mento, Dick Curson over from Yolo," said Carter, " and 
 that ar young Injin yarb doctor from the Carquinez Woods.
 
 112 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 I reckon he 's jist up I noticed a light under his door as 
 I passed." 
 
 " He 's my man for a friendly chat before breakfast," 
 said Wynn. " You need n't come up. I '11 find the way. 
 I don't want a light ; I reckon my eyes ain't as bright nor 
 as young as his, but they '11 see almost as far in the dark 
 he-he ! " And, nodding to Brother Carter, he strode along 
 the passage, and with no other introduction than a playful 
 and preliminary " Boo ! " burst into one of the rooms. Low, 
 who by the light of a single candle was bending over the 
 plates of a large quarto, merely raised his eyes and looked 
 at the intruder. The young man's natural imperturbability, 
 always exasperating to Wynn, seemed accented that morn- 
 ing by contrast with his own over-acted animation. 
 
 "Ah ha ! wasting the midnight oil instead of imbibing 
 the morning dews," said Father Wynn archly, illustrating 
 his metaphor with a movement of his hand to his lips. 
 " What have we here ? " 
 
 "An anonymous gift," replied Low simply, recognizing 
 the father of Nellie by rising from his chair. " It 's a vol- 
 ume I 've longed to possess, but never could afford to buy. 
 I cannot imagine who sent it to me." 
 
 Wynn was for a moment startled by the thought that this 
 recipient of valuable gifts might have influential friends. 
 But a glance at the bare room, which looked like a camp, 
 and the strange, unconventional garb of its occupant, re- 
 stored his former convictions. There might be a promise 
 of intelligence, but scarcely of prosperity, in the figure 
 before him. 
 
 " Ah ! We must not forget that we are watched over 
 in the night season," he said, laying his hand on Low's 
 shoulder, with an illustration of celestial guardianship that 
 would have been impious but for its palpable grotesqueness. 
 " No, sir, we know not what a day may bring forth." 
 
 Unfortunately, Low's practical mind did not go beyond
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 113 
 
 a mere human interpretation. It was enough, however, to 
 put a new light in his eye and a faint color in his cheek. 
 
 " Could it have heen Miss Nellie ? " he asked, with half- 
 boyish hesitation. 
 
 Mr. Wynn was too much of a Christian not to how he- 
 fore what appeared to him the purely providential inter- 
 position of this suggestion. Seizing it and Low at the 
 same moment, he playfully forced him down again in his 
 chair. 
 
 " Ah, you rascal ! " he said, with infinite archness ; 
 " that 's your game, is it ? You want to trap poor Father 
 Wynn. You want to make him say 'No.' You want to 
 tempt him to commit himself. No, sir ! never, sir ! 
 no, no ! " 
 
 Firmly convinced that the present was Nellie's and that 
 her father only good-humoredly guessed it, the young man's 
 simple, truthful nature was embarrassed. He longed to 
 express his gratitude, but feared to betray the young girl's 
 trust. The Rev. Mr. Wynn speedily relieved his mind. 
 
 " No," he continued, bestriding a chair, and familiarly 
 confronting Low over its back. " No, sir no ! And you 
 want me to say ' No,' don't you, regarding the little walks 
 of Nellie and a certain young man in the Carquinez Woods ? 
 ha, ha ! You 'd like me to say that I know nothing of 
 the botanizings, and the herb collectings, and the picnick- 
 ings there he-he ! you sly dog ! Perhaps you 'd like 
 to tempt Father Wynn further, and make him swear he 
 knows nothing of his daughter disguising herself in a duster 
 and meeting another young man is n't it another young 
 man ? all alone, eh ? Perhaps you want poor old 
 father Wynn to say ' No.' No, sir, nothing of the kind 
 ever occurred. Ah, you young rascal ! " 
 
 Slightly troubled, in spite of Wynn's hearty manner, 
 Low, with his usual directness, however, said, "I do not 
 want any one to deny that I have seen Miss Nellie."
 
 114 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," said Wynn, abandoning his 
 method, considerably disconcerted by Low's simplicity, and 
 a certain natural reserve that shook off his familiarity. 
 " Certainly it 's a noble thing to be able to put your hand 
 on your heart and say to the world, ' Come on, all of you ! 
 Observe me ; I have nothing to conceal. I walk with 
 Miss Wynn in the woods as her instructor her teacher, 
 in fact. We cull a flower here and there; we pluck an 
 herb fresh from the hand of the Creator. We look, so to 
 speak, from Nature to Nature's God.' Yes, my young 
 friend, we should be the first to repel the foul calumny that 
 could misinterpret our most innocent actions." 
 
 " Calumny ? " repeated Low, starting to his feet. " What 
 calumny ? " 
 
 "My friend, my noble young friend, I recognize your 
 indignation. I know your worth. When I said to Nellie, 
 my only child, my perhaps too simple offspring a mere 
 wildflower like yourself when I said to her, * Go, my 
 child, walk in the woods with this young man, hand in 
 hand. Let him instruct you from the humblest roots, for 
 he has trodden in the ways of the Almighty. Gather 
 wisdom from his lips, and knowledge from his simple 
 woodsman's craft. Make, in fact, a collection not only of 
 herbs, but of moral axioms and experience/ I knew I 
 could trust you, and, trusting you, my young friend, I felt I 
 could trust the world. Perhaps I was weak, foolish. But 
 I thought only of her welfare. I even recall how that, to 
 preserve the purity of her garments, I bade her don a simple 
 duster ; that, to secure her from the trifling companionship 
 of others, I bade her keep her own counsel, and seek you 
 at seasons known but to yourselves." 
 
 " But did Nellie understand you ? " interrupted Low 
 hastily. 
 
 " I see you read her simple nature. Understand me ? 
 No, not at first ! Her maidenly instinct perhaps her
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 115 
 
 duty to another took the alarm. I remember her words. 
 ' But what will Dunn say ? ' she asked. ' Will he not be 
 jealous ? ' " 
 
 " Dunn ! jealous ! I don't understand," said Low, fix- 
 ing his eyes on Wynn. 
 
 "That's just what I said to Nellie. 'Jealous!' I 
 said. ' What, Dunn, your affianced husband, jealous of a 
 mere friend a teacher, a guide, a philosopher. It is im- 
 possible.' Well, sir, she was right. He is jealous. And, 
 more than that, he has imparted his jealousy to others ! 
 In other words, he has made a scandal ! " 
 
 Low's eyes flashed. " Where is your daughter now ? " 
 he said sternly. 
 
 "At present in bed, suffering from a nervous attack 
 brought on by these unjust suspicions. She appreciates 
 your anxiety, and, knowing that you could not see her, 
 told me to give you this." He handed Low the ring and 
 the letter. 
 
 The climax had been forced, and, it must be confessed, 
 was by no means the one Mr. Wynn had fully arranged 
 in his own inner consciousness. He had intended to take 
 an ostentatious leave of Low in the bar-room, deliver the 
 letter with archness, and escape before a possible explosion. 
 He consequently backed towards the door for an emergency. 
 But he was again at fault. That unaffected stoical fortitude 
 in acute suffering, which was the one remaining pride and 
 glory of Low's race, was yet to be revealed to Wynn's 
 civilized eyes. 
 
 The young man took the letter, and read it without 
 changing a muscle, folded the ring in it, and dropped it 
 into his haversack. Then he picked up his blanket, threw 
 it over his shoulder, took his trusty rifle in his hand, and 
 turned toward Wynn as if coldly surprised that he was still 
 standing there. 
 
 " Are you are you going ? " stammered Wynn.
 
 116 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 " Are you not ? " replied Low dryly, leaning on his rifle 
 for a moment as if waiting for Wynn to precede him. The 
 preacher looked at him a moment, mumbled something, and 
 then shambled feebly and ineffectively down the staircase 
 before Low, with a painful suggestion to the ordinary ob- 
 server of being occasionally urged thereto by the moccasin 
 of the young man behind him. 
 
 On reaching the lower hall, however, he endeavored to 
 create a diversion in his favor by dashing into the bar-room 
 and clapping the occupants on the back with indiscriminate 
 playfulness. But here again he seemed to be disappointed. 
 To his great discomfiture, a large man not only returned 
 his salutation with powerful levity, but with equal playful- 
 ness seized him in his arms, and after an ingenious simula- 
 tion of depositing him in the horse-trough set him down in 
 affected amazement. " Bletht if I did n't think from the 
 weight of your hand it wath my old friend, Thacramento 
 Bill," said Curson apologetically, with a wink at the by- 
 standers. " That 'th the way Bill alwayth uthed to tackle 
 hith friendth, till he wath one day bounthed by a prithe-fighter 
 in Frithco, whom he had mithtaken for a mithionary." As 
 Mr. Curson's reputation was of a quality that made any 
 form of apology from him instantly acceptable, the amused 
 spectators made way for him as, recognizing Low, who was 
 just leaving the hotel, he turned coolly from them and 
 walked towards him. 
 
 " Halloo ! " he said, extending his hand. " You 're the 
 man I 'm waiting for. Did you get a book from the 
 exthpreth offithe latht night ? " 
 
 " I did. Why ? " 
 
 " It 'th all right. Ath I 'm rethponthible for it, I only 
 wanted to know." 
 
 " Did you send it ? " asked Low, quickly fixing his eyes 
 on his face. 
 
 " Well, not exactly me. But it 'th not worth making a 

 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 117 
 
 mythtery of it. Teretha gave me a commithion to buy it 
 and thend it to you anonymouthly. That 'th a woman'th 
 nonthenth, for how could thee get a retheipt for it ? " 
 
 " Then it was her present/' said Low gloomily. 
 
 " Of courthe. It wath n't mine, my boy. I 'd have 
 thent you a Tharp'th rifle in plathe of that muthle-loader 
 you carry, or thomething thenthible. But, I thay ! what 'th 
 up ? You look ath if you had been running all night." 
 
 Low grasped his hand. "Thank you," he said hur- 
 riedly ; " but it 's nothing. Only I must be back to the 
 woods early. Good-by." 
 
 But Curson retained Low's hand in his own powerful grip. 
 
 " I '11 go with you a bit further," he said. " In fact, 
 I 've got thomething to thay to you ; only don't be in 
 thuch a hurry ; the woodth can wait till you get there." 
 Quietly compelling Low to alter his own characteristic 
 Indian stride to keep pace with his, he went on : "I don't 
 mind thaying I rather cottoned to you from the time you 
 acted like a white man no offenthe to Teretha. She 
 thayth you were left when a child lying round, jutht ath 
 promithcuouthly ath she wath ; and if I can do anything 
 towardth putting you on the trail of your people, I '11 do it. 
 I know thome of the voyageurth who traded with the 
 Cherokeeth, and your father wath one was n't he ? " 
 He glanced at Low's utterly abstracted and immobile face. 
 " I thay, you don't theem to take a hand in thith game, 
 pardner. What 'th the row ? Ith anything wrong over 
 there ? " and he pointed to the Carquinez Woods, which 
 were just looming out of the morning horizon in the dis- 
 tance. 
 
 Low stopped. The last words of his companion seemed 
 to recall him to himself. He raised his eyes automatically 
 to the woods, and started. 
 
 " There is something wrong over there/' he said breath- 
 lessly. "Look!"
 
 118 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 "I thee nothing," said Curson, beginning to doubt Low's 
 sanity ; " nothing more than I thaw an hour ago." 
 
 " Look again. Don't you see that smoke rising straight 
 up ? It is n't blown over from the Divide ; it 's new 
 smoke ! The fire is in the woods ! " 
 
 " I reckon that 'th so," muttered Curson, shading his 
 eyes with his hand. " But, hullo ! wait a minute ! We '11 
 get hortheth. I say ! " he shouted, forgetting his lisp in 
 his excitement, " stop ! " But Low had already lowered 
 his head and darted forward like an arrow. 
 
 In a few moments he had left not only his companion 
 but the last straggling houses of the outskirts far behind 
 him, and had struck out in a long, swinging trot for the 
 disused " cut-off." Already he fancied he heard the note 
 of clamor in Indian Spring, and thought he distinguished 
 the sound of hurrying hoofs on the great highway. But 
 the sunken trail hid it from his view. From the column 
 of smoke now plainly visible in the growing morning light 
 he tried to locate the scene of the conflagration. It was 
 evidently not a fire advancing regularly from the outer skirt 
 of the wood, communicated to it from the Divide : it was a 
 local outburst near its centre. It was not in the direction 
 of his cabin in the tree. There was no immediate danger 
 to Teresa, unless fear drove her beyond the confines of the 
 wood into the hands of those who might recognize her. 
 The screaming of jays and ravens above his head quickened 
 his speed, as it heralded the rapid advance of the flames ; 
 and the unexpected apparition of a bounding body, flattened 
 and flying over the yellow plain, told him that even the 
 secure retreat of the mountain wild-cat had been invaded. 
 A sudden recollection of Teresa's uncontrollable terror that 
 first night smote him with remorse, and redoubled his 
 efforts. Alone in the track of these frantic and bewildered 
 beasts, to what madness might she not be driven ! 
 
 The sharp crack of a rifle from the highroad turned his
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 119 
 
 course momentarily in that direction. The smoke was curl- 
 ing lazily over the heads of a party of men in the road, 
 while the huge bulk of a grizzly was disappearing in the 
 distance. A battue of the escaping animals had com- 
 menced ! In the bitterness of his heart he caught at the 
 horrible suggestion, and resolved to save her from them or 
 die with her there. 
 
 How fast he ran, or the time it took him to reach the 
 woods, has never been known. Their outlines were already 
 hidden when he entered them. To a sense less keen, a 
 courage less desperate, and a purpose less unaltered than 
 Low's, the wood would have been impenetrable. The cen- 
 tral fire was still confined to the lofty treetops, but the 
 downward rush of wind from time to time drove the smoke 
 into the aisles in blinding and suffocating volumes. To 
 simulate the creeping animals, and fall to the ground on 
 hands and knees, feel his way through the underbrush 
 when the smoke was densest, or take advantage of its mo- 
 mentary lifting, and without uncertainty, mistake, or hesi- 
 tation glide from tree to tree in one undeviating course, 
 was possible only to an experienced woodsman. To keep 
 his reason and insight so clear as to be able in the midst 
 of this bewildering confusion to shape that course so as to 
 intersect the wild and unknown tract of an inexperienced, 
 frightened wanderer belonged to Low, and to Low alone. 
 He was making his way against the wind towards the fire. 
 He had reasoned that she was either in comparative safety 
 to windward of it, or he should meet her being driven 
 towards him by it, or find her succumbed and fainting at its 
 feet. To do this he must penetrate the burning belt, and 
 then pass under the blazing dome. He was already upon 
 it ; he could see the falling fire dropping like rain or blown 
 like gorgeous blossoms of the conflagration across his path. 
 The space was lit up brilliantly. The vast shafts of dull 
 copper cast no shadow below, but there was no sign nor
 
 120 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 token of any human being. For a moment the young man 
 was at fault. It was true this hidden heart of the forest 
 bore no undergrowth ; the cool matted carpet of the aisles 
 seemed to quench the glowing fragments as they fell. 
 Escape might be difficult, but not impossible ; yet every 
 moment was precious. He leaned against a tree, and sent 
 his voice like a clarion before him : " Teresa ! " There 
 was no reply. He called again. A faint cry at his back 
 from the trail he had just traversed made him turn. Only 
 a few paces behind him, blinded and staggering, but fol- 
 lowing like a beaten and wounded animal, Teresa halted, 
 knelt, clasped her hands, and dumbly held them out be- 
 fore her. " Teresa ! " he cried again, and sprang to her 
 side. 
 
 She caught him by the knees, and lifted her face im- 
 ploringly to his. 
 
 " Say that again ! " she cried passionately. " Tell me it 
 was Teresa you called, and no other ! You have come back 
 for me ! You would not let me die here alone ! " 
 
 He lifted her tenderly in his arms, and cast a rapid 
 glance around him. It might have been his fancy, but 
 there seemed a dull glow in the direction he had come. 
 
 " You do not speak ! " she said. " Tell me ! You did 
 not come here to seek her ? " 
 
 " Whom ? " he said quickly. 
 
 "Nellie!" 
 
 With a sharp cry he let her slip to the ground. All 
 the pent-up agony, rage, and mortification of the last hour 
 broke from him in that inarticulate outburst. Then, catch- 
 ing her hands again, he dragged her to his level. 
 
 " Hear me ! " he cried, disregarding the whirling smoke 
 and the fiery baptism that sprinkled them, " hear me ! 
 If you value your life, if you value your soul, and if you 
 do not want me to cast you to the beasts like Jezebel of 
 old, never never take that accursed name again upon
 
 She caught him by the knees
 
 IN THE CAKQUINEZ WOODS 121 
 
 your lips. Seek her her ? Yes ! Seek her to tie her 
 like a witch's daughter of hell to that blazing tree ! " He 
 stopped. " Forgive me," he said in a changed voice. 
 " I 'm mad, and forgetting myself and you. Come." 
 
 Without noticing the expression of half-savage delight 
 that had passed across her face, he lifted her in his arms. 
 
 " Which way are you going ? " she asked, passing her 
 hands vaguely across his breast, as if to reassure herself of 
 his identity. 
 
 " To our camp by the scarred tree," he replied. 
 
 " Not there, not there," she said hurriedly. " I was 
 driven from there just now. I thought the fire began 
 there until I came here." 
 
 Then it was as he feared. Obeying the same mysteri- 
 ous law that had launched this fatal fire like a thunder- 
 bolt from the burning mountain crest five miles away into 
 the heart of the Carquinez Woods, it had again leaped a 
 mile beyond, and was hemming them between two narrow- 
 ing lines of fire. But Low was not daunted. Retracing 
 his steps through the blinding smoke, he strode off at right 
 angles to the trail near the point where he had entered the 
 wood. It was the spot where he had first lifted Nellie in 
 his arms to carry her to the hidden spring. If any recol- 
 lection of it crossed his mind at that moment, it was only 
 shown in his redoubled energy. He did not glide through 
 the thick underbrush, as on that day, but seemed to take 
 a savage pleasure in breaking through it with sheer brute 
 force. Once Teresa insisted upon relieving him of the 
 burden of her weight, but after a few steps she staggered 
 blindly against him, and would fain have recourse once 
 more to his strong arms. And so, alternately staggering, 
 bending, crouching, or bounding and crashing on, but always 
 in one direction, they burst through the jealous rampart, 
 and came upon the sylvan haunt of the hidden spring. The 
 great angle of the half-fallen tree acted as a barrier to the
 
 122 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 wind and drifting smoke, and the cool spring sparkled and 
 bubbled in the almost translucent air. He laid her down 
 beside the water, and bathed her face and hands. As he 
 did so his quick eye caught sight of a woman's handker- 
 chief lying at the foot of the disrupted root. Dropping 
 Teresa's hand, he walked towards it, and with the toe of 
 his moccasin gave it one vigorous kick into the ooze at the 
 overflow of the spring. He turned to Teresa, but she 
 evidently had not noticed the act. 
 
 " Where are you ? " she asked, with a smile. 
 
 Something in her movement struck him. He came to- 
 wards her, and bending down looked into her face. 
 
 " Teresa ! Good God ! look at me ! What has hap- 
 pened ? " 
 
 She raised her eyes to his. There was a slight film 
 across them ; the lids were blackened ; the beautiful lashes 
 gone forever ! 
 
 " I see you a little now, I think," she said, with a smile, 
 passing her hands vaguely over his face. " It must have 
 happened when he fainted, and I had to drag him through 
 the blazing brush ; both my hands were full, and I could 
 not cover my eyes." 
 
 " Drag whom ? " said Low quickly. 
 
 " Why, Dunn." 
 
 " Dunn ! He here ? " said Low hoarsely. 
 
 "Yes; didn't you read the note I left on the herba- 
 rium ? Did n't you come to the camp-fire ? " she asked 
 hurriedly, clasping his hands. " Tell me quickly ! " 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " Then you were not there then you did n't leave me 
 to die ? " 
 
 " No ! I swear it, Teresa ! " the stoicism that had up- 
 held his own agony breaking down before her strong emotion. 
 
 " Thank God ! " She threw her arms around him, and 
 hid her aching eyes in his troubled breast.
 
 IN THE CAEQUINEZ WOODS 123 
 
 " Tell me all, Teresa," he whispered in her listening 
 ear. "Don't move ; stay there, and tell me all." 
 
 With her face buried in his bosom, as if speaking to his 
 heart alone, she told him part, but not all. With her eyes 
 filled with tears, but a smile on her lips, radiant with new- 
 found happiness, she told him how she had overheard the 
 plans of Dunn and Brace, how she had stolen their convey- 
 ance to warn him in time. But here she stopped, dreading 
 to say a word that would shatter the hopes she was build- 
 ing upon his sudden revulsion of feeling for Nellie. She 
 could not bring herself to repeat their interview that 
 would come later, when they were safe and out of danger ; 
 now not even the secret of his birth must come between 
 them with its distraction, to mar their perfect communion. 
 She faltered that Dunn had fainted from weakness, and 
 that she had dragged him out of danger. " He will never 
 interfere with us I mean," she said softly, " with me 
 again. I can promise you that as well as if he had sworn 
 it." 
 
 " Let him pass now," said Low ; " that will come later 
 on," he added, unconsciously repeating her thought in a 
 tone that made her heart sick. "But tell me, Teresa, 
 why did you go to Excelsior ? " 
 
 She buried her head still deeper, as if to hide it. He 
 felt her broken heart beat against his own ; he was con- 
 scious of a depth of feeling her rival had never awakened 
 in him. The possibility of Teresa loving him had never 
 occurred to his simple nature. He bent his head and 
 kissed her. She was frightened, and unloosed her cling- 
 ing arms ; but he retained her hand, and said, " We will 
 leave this accursed place, and you shall go with me as 
 you said you would ; nor need you ever leave me, unless 
 you wish it." 
 
 She could hear the beating of her own heart through his 
 words ; she longed to look at the eyes and lips that told her
 
 124 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 
 
 this, and read the meaning his voice alone could not entirely 
 convey. For the first time she felt the loss of her sight. 
 She did not know that it was, in this moment of happiness, 
 the last blessing vouchsafed to her miserable life. 
 
 A few moments of silence followed, broken only by the 
 distant rumor of the conflagration and the crash of falling 
 boughs. " It may be an hour yet," he whispered, " before 
 the fire has swept a path for us to the road below. We 
 are safe here, unless some sudden current should draw 
 the fire down upon us. You are not frightened ? " She 
 pressed his hand ; she was thinking of the pale face of 
 Dunn, lying in the secure retreat she had purchased for 
 him at such a sacrifice. Yet the possibility of danger to 
 him now for a moment marred her present happiness and 
 security. " You think the fire will not go north of where 
 you found me ? " she asked softly. 
 
 " I think not," he said ; " but I will reconnoitre. Stay 
 where you are." 
 
 They pressed hands, and parted. He leaped upon the 
 slanting trunk, and ascended it rapidly. She waited in 
 mute expectation. 
 
 There was a sudden movement of the root on which she 
 sat, a deafening crash, and she was thrown forward on her face. 
 
 The vast bulk of the leaning tree, dislodged from its 
 aerial support by the gradual sapping of the spring at its 
 roots, or by the crumbling of the bark from the heat, had 
 slipped, made a half revolution, and, falling, overbore the 
 lesser trees in its path, and tore, in its resistless momentum, 
 a broad opening to the underbrush. 
 
 With a cry to Low, Teresa staggered to her feet. There 
 was an interval of hideous silence, but no reply. She called 
 again. There was a sudden deepening roar, the blast of a 
 fiery furnace swept through the opening, a thousand lumi- 
 nous points around her burst into fire, and in an instant she 
 was lost in a whirlwind of smoke and flame ! From the
 
 IN THE CARQUINEZ WOODS 125 
 
 onset of its fury to its culmination twenty minutes did not 
 elapse ; but in that interval a radius of two hundred yards 
 around the hidden spring was swept of life and light and 
 motion. 
 
 For the rest of that day and part of the night a pall of 
 smoke hung above the scene of desolation. It lifted only 
 towards the morning, when the moon, riding high, picked 
 out in black and silver the shrunken and silent columns of 
 those roofless vaults, shorn of base and capital. It flickered 
 on the still, overflowing pool of the hidden spring, and shone 
 upon the white face of Low, who, with a rootlet of the 
 fallen tree holding him down like an arm across his breast, 
 seemed to be sleeping peacefully in the sleeping water. 
 
 Contemporaneous history touched him as briefly, but not 
 as gently. " It is now definitely ascertained," said " The 
 Slumgullion Mirror," " that Sheriff Dunn met his fate in 
 the Carquinez Woods in the performance of his duty; that fear- 
 less man having received information of the concealment of 
 a band of horse-thieves in their recesses. The desperadoes 
 are presumed to have escaped, as the only remains found 
 are those of two wretched tramps, one of whom is said to 
 have been a Digger, who supported himself upon roots and 
 herbs, and the other a degraded half-white woman. It is 
 not unreasonable to suppose that the fire originated through 
 their carelessness, although Father Wynn of the First Bap- 
 tist Church, in his powerful discourse of last Sunday, pointed 
 at the warning and lesson of such catastrophes. It may not 
 be out of place here to say that the rumors regarding an en- 
 gagement between the pastor's accomplished daughter and 
 the late lamented sheriff are utterly without foundation, as 
 it has been an on dit for some time in all well-informed 
 circles that the indefatigable Mr. Brace, of Wells, Fargo & 
 Co.'s Express, will shortly lead the lady to the hymeneal 
 altar."
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 SHE was barely twenty-three years old. It is probable 
 that up to that age, and the beginning of this episode, her 
 life had been uneventful. Born to the easy mediocrity of 
 such compensating extremes as a small farmhouse and large 
 lands, a good position and no society, in that vast grazing 
 district of Kentucky known as the "Blue Grass" region, 
 all the possibilities of a Western American girl's existence 
 lay before her. A piano in the bare-walled house, the 
 latest patented mower in the limitless meadows, and a silk 
 dress sweeping the rough floor of the unpainted " meeting- 
 house," were already the promise of those possibilities. 
 Beautiful she was, but the power of that beauty was 
 limited by being equally shared with her few neighbors. 
 There were small, narrow, arched feet besides her own that 
 trod the uncarpeted floors of outlying log cabins with equal 
 grace and dignity ; bright, clearly opened eyes that were 
 equally capable of looking unabashed upon princes and 
 potentates, as a few later did, and the heiress of the county 
 judge read her own beauty without envy in the frank glances 
 and unlowered crest of the blacksmith's daughter. Even- 
 tually she had married the male of her species, a young 
 stranger, who, as schoolmaster in the nearest town, had 
 utilized to some local extent a scant capital of education. 
 In obedience to the unwritten law of the West, after the 
 marriage was celebrated the doors of the ancestral home 
 cheerfully opened, and bride and bridegroom issued forth, 
 without regret and without sentiment, to seek the further
 
 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 127 
 
 possibilities of a life beyond these already too familiar 
 voices. With their departure for California as Mr. and 
 Mrs. Spencer Tucker, the parental nest in the Blue Grass 
 meadows knew them no more. 
 
 They submitted with equal cheerfulness to the privations 
 and excesses of their new conditions. Within three years 
 the schoolmaster developed into a lawyer and capitalist, the 
 Blue Grass bride supplying a grace and ease to these tran- 
 sitions that were all her own. She softened the abruptness 
 of sudden wealth, mitigated the austerities of newly acquired 
 power, and made the most glaring incongruity picturesque. 
 Only one thing seemed to limit their progress in the region 
 of these possibilities. They were childless. It was as if 
 they had exhausted the future in their own youth, leaving 
 little or nothing for another generation to do. 
 
 A southwesterly storm was beating against the dressing- 
 room windows of their new house in one of the hilly 
 suburbs of San Francisco, and threatening the unseason- 
 able frivolity of the stucco ornamentation of cornice and 
 balcony. Mrs. Tucker had been called from the contempla- 
 tion of the dreary prospect without by the arrival of a visi- 
 tor. On entering the drawing-room she found him engaged 
 in a half-admiring, half-resentful examination of its new 
 furniture and hangings. Mrs. Tucker at once recognized 
 Mr. Calhoun Weaver, a former Blue Grass neighbor ; with 
 swift feminine intuition she also felt that his slight antago- 
 nism was likely to be transferred from her furniture to her- 
 self. Waiving it with the lazy amiability of Southern 
 indifference, she welcomed him by the familiarity of a 
 Christian name. 
 
 "I reckoned that mebbee you opined old Blue Grass 
 friends would n't naturally hitch on to them fancy doin's," 
 he said, glancing around the apartment to avoid her clear 
 eyes, as if resolutely setting himself against the old charm
 
 128 A BLUE GKASS PENELOPE 
 
 of her manner as he had against the more recent glory of 
 her surroundings ; " but I thought I 'd just drop in for the 
 sake of old times." 
 
 " Why should n't you, Cal ? " said Mrs. Tucker with a 
 frank smile. 
 
 "Especially as I'm going up to Sacramento to-night with 
 some influential friends," he continued, with an ostentation 
 calculated to resist the assumption of her charms and her 
 furniture. " Senator Dyce of Kentucky, and his cousin 
 Judge Briggs ; perhaps you know 'em, or maybe Spencer 
 I mean Mr. Tucker does." 
 
 "I reckon," said Mrs. Tucker smiling; "but tell me 
 something about the boys and girls at Vineville, and about 
 yourself. You 're looking well, and right smart too." 
 She paused to give due emphasis to this latter recognition 
 of a huge gold chain with which her visitor was somewhat 
 ostentatiously trifling. 
 
 " I did n't know as you cared to hear anything about 
 Blue Grass," he returned, a little abashed. " I 've been 
 away from there some time myself," he added, his uneasy 
 vanity taking fresh alarm at the faint suspicion of patronage 
 on the part of his hostess. " They 're doin' well though ; 
 perhaps as well as some others." 
 
 " And you 're not married yet," continued Mrs. Tucker, 
 oblivious of the innuendo. " Ah, Cal," she added archly, 
 " I am afraid you are as fickle as ever. What poor girl in 
 Vineville have you left pining ? " 
 
 The simple face of the man before her flushed with fool- 
 ish gratification at this old-fashioned, ambiguous flattery. 
 "Now look yer, Belle," he said, chuckling, "if you're 
 talking of old times, and you think I bear malice agin 
 Spencer, why " 
 
 But Mrs. Tucker interrupted what might have been an 
 inopportune sentimental retrospect with a finger of arch but 
 languid warning. " That will do ! I >m dying to know all
 
 A BLUE GKASS PENELOPE 129 
 
 about it, and you must stay to dinner and tell me. It 's 
 right mean you can't see Spencer too ; but he is n't back 
 from Sacramento yet." 
 
 Grateful as a tete-a-tete with his old neighbor in her 
 more prosperous surroundings would have been, if only for 
 the sake of later gossiping about it, he felt it would be 
 inconsistent with his pride and his assumption of present 
 business. More than that, he was uneasily conscious that 
 in Mrs. Tucker's simple and unaffected manner there was a 
 greater superiority than he had ever noticed during their 
 previous acquaintance. He would have felt kinder to her 
 had she shown any " airs and graces," which he could have 
 commented upon and forgiven. He stammered some vague 
 excuse of preoccupation, yet lingered in the hope of saying 
 something which, if not aggressively unpleasant, might at 
 least transfer to her indolent serenity some of his own 
 irritation. " I reckon," he said, as he moved hesitatingly 
 toward the door, " that Spencer has made himself easy and 
 secure in them business risks he 's taking. That 'ere Ala- 
 meda ditch affair they 're talking so much about is a mighty 
 big thing, rather too big if it ever got to falling back on 
 him. But I suppose he 's accustomed to take risks ? " 
 
 " Of course he is," said Mrs. Tucker gayly. " He mar- 
 ried me." 
 
 The visitor smiled feebly, but was not equal to the op- 
 portunity offered for gallant repudiation. "But suppose 
 you ain't accustomed to risks ? " 
 
 " Why not ? I married him," said Mrs. Tucker. 
 
 Mr. Calhoun Weaver was human, and succumbed to this 
 last charming audacity. He broke into a noisy but genuine 
 laugh, shook Mrs. Tucker's hand with effusion, said, " Now 
 that 's regular Blue Grass and no mistake ! " and retreated 
 under cover of his hilarity. In the hall he made a rallying- 
 stand to repeat confidentially to the servant who had over- 
 heard them, " Blue Grass all over, you bet your life," and,
 
 130 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 opening the door, was apparently swallowed up in the tem- 
 pest. 
 
 Mrs. Tucker's smile kept her lips until she had returned 
 to her room, and even then languidly shone in her eyes for 
 some minutes after, as she gazed abstractedly from her win- 
 dow on the storm-tossed bay in the distance. Perhaps some 
 girlish vision of the peaceful Blue Grass plain momentarily 
 usurped the prospect ; but it is to be doubted if there was 
 much romance in that retrospect, or that it was more inter- 
 esting to her than the positive and sharply cut outlines of 
 the practical life she now led. Howbeit she soon forgot this 
 fancy in lazily watching a boat that, in the teeth of the gale, 
 was beating round Alcatraz Island. Although at times a 
 mere blank speck on the gray waste of foam, a closer scrutiny 
 showed it to be one of those lateen-rigged Italian fishing- 
 boats that so often flecked the distant bay. Lost in the 
 sudden darkening of rain, or reappearing beneath the lifted 
 curtain of the squall, she watched it weather the island, and 
 then turn its laboring but persistent course toward the open 
 channel. A rent in the Indian-inky sky, that showed the 
 narrowing portals of the Golden Gate beyond, revealed un- 
 expectedly, as the destination of the little craft, a tall ship 
 that hitherto lay hidden in the mist of the Saucelito shore. 
 As the distance lessened between boat and ship, they were 
 again lost in the downward swoop of another squall. When 
 it lifted, the ship was creeping under the headland towards 
 the open sea, but the boat was gone. Mrs. Tucker in vain 
 rubbed the pane with her handkerchief it had vanished. 
 Meanwhile the ship, as she neared the Gate, drew out from 
 the protecting headland, stood outlined for a moment with 
 spars and canvas hearsed in black against the lurid rent in 
 the horizon, and then seemed to sink slowly into the heav- 
 ing obscurity beyond. A sudden onset of rain against the 
 windows obliterated the remaining prospect ; the entrance 
 of a servant completed the diversion.
 
 A BLUE GKASS PENELOPE 131 
 
 " Captain Poindexter, ma'am ! " 
 
 Mrs. Tucker lifted her pretty eyebrows interrogatively. 
 Captain Poindexter was a legal friend of her husband, and 
 had dined there frequently ; nevertheless she asked, " Did 
 you tell him Mr. Tucker was not at home ? " 
 
 " Yes, 'm." 
 
 "Did he ask for me?" 
 
 " Yes, 'm." 
 
 " Tell him I '11 be down directly." 
 
 Mrs. Tucker's quiet face did not betray the fact that this 
 second visitor was even less interesting than the first. In 
 her heart she did not like Captain Poindexter. With a 
 clever woman's instinct, she had early detected the fact that 
 he had a superior, stronger nature than her husband ; as a 
 loyal wife, she secretly resented the occasional unconscious 
 exhibition of this fact on the part of his intimate friend in 
 their familiar intercourse. Added to this slight jealousy 
 there was a certain moral antagonism between herself and 
 the captain which none but themselves knew. They were 
 both philosophers, but Mrs. Tucker's serene and languid 
 optimism would not tolerate the compassionate and kind- 
 hearted pessimisms of the lawyer. " Knowing what Jack 
 Poindexter does of human nature," her husband had once 
 said, " it 's mighty fine in him to be so kind and forgiving. 
 You ought to like him better, Belle." " And qualify myself 
 to be forgiven," said the lady pertly. " I don't see what 
 you 're driving at, Belle ; I give it up," had responded the 
 puzzled husband. Mrs. Tucker kissed his high but foolish 
 forehead tenderly, and said, " I 'm glad you don't, dear." 
 
 Meanwhile her second visitor had, like the first, em- 
 ployed the interval in a critical survey of the glories of the 
 new furniture, but with apparently more compassion than 
 resentment in his manner. Once only had his expression 
 changed. Over the fireplace hung a large photograph of 
 Mr. Spencer Tucker. It was retouched, refined, and ideal-
 
 132 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 ized in the highest style of that polite and diplomatic art. 
 As Captain Poindexter looked upon the fringed hazel eyes, 
 the drooping raven mustache, the clustering ringlets, and 
 the Byronic full throat and turned-down collar of his friend, 
 a smile of exhausted humorous tolerance and affectionate 
 impatience curved his lips. " Well, you are a fool, are n't 
 you ? " he apostrophized it half audibly. 
 
 He was standing before the picture as she entered. Even 
 in the trying contiguity of that peerless work he would 
 have been called a fine-looking man. As he advanced to 
 greet her, it was evident that his military title was not one 
 of the mere fanciful sobriquets of the locality. In his 
 erect figure and the disciplined composure of limb and atti- 
 tude there were still traces of the refined academic rigors of 
 West Point. The pliant adaptability of Western civili- 
 zation, which enabled him, three years before, to leave the 
 army and transfer his executive ability to the more profit- 
 able profession of the law, had loosed sash and shoulder- 
 strap, but had not entirely removed the restraint of the one, 
 nor the bearing of the other. 
 
 " Spencer is in Sacramento," began Mrs. Tucker in lan- 
 guid explanation, after the first greetings were over. 
 
 " I knew he was not here," replied Captain Poindexter 
 gently, as he drew the proffered chair towards her, " but 
 this is business that concerns you both." He stopped and 
 glanced upwards at the picture. " I suppose you know 
 nothing of his business ? Of course not," he added reas- 
 suringly, " nothing, absolutely nothing, certainly." He 
 said this so kindly, and yet so positively, as if to promptly 
 dispose of that question before going further, that she as- 
 sented mechanically. " Well, then, he 's taken some big 
 risks in the way of business, and well, things have gone 
 bad with him, you know. Very bad ! Really, they could n't 
 be worse ! Of course it was dreadfully rash and all that," 
 he went on, as if commenting upon the amusing wayward-
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 133 
 
 ness of a child ; " but the result is the usual smash-up of 
 everything, money, credit, and all ! " He laughed, and 
 added, "Yes, he's got cut off mules and baggage regu- 
 larly routed and dispersed ! I 'm in earnest." He raised 
 his eyebrows and frowned slightly, as if to deprecate any 
 corresponding hilarity on the part of Mrs. Tucker, or any 
 attempt to make too light of the subject, and then rising, 
 placed his hands behind his back, beamed half humorously 
 upon her from beneath her husband's picture, and repeated, 
 " That 's so." 
 
 Mrs. Tucker instinctively knew that he spoke the truth, 
 and that it was impossible for him to convey it in any 
 other than his natural manner ; but between the shock and 
 the singular influence of that manner she could at first only 
 say, " You don't mean it ! " fully conscious of the utter 
 inanity of the remark, and that it seemed scarcely less cold- 
 blooded than his own. 
 
 Poindexter, still smiling, nodded. 
 
 She arose with an effort. She had recovered from the 
 first shock, and pride lent her a determined calmness that 
 more than equaled Poindexter's easy philosophy. 
 
 " Where is he ? " she asked. 
 
 " At sea, and I hope by this time where he cannot be 
 found or followed." 
 
 Was her momentary glimpse of the outgoing ship a coin- 
 cidence or only a vision ? She was confused and giddy, 
 but, mastering her weakness, she managed to continue in a 
 lower voice : 
 
 " You have no message for me from him ? He told you 
 nothing to tell me ? " 
 
 " Nothing, absolutely nothing," replied Poindexter. " It 
 was as much as he could do, I reckon, to get fairly away 
 before the crash came." 
 
 " Then you did not see him go ? " 
 
 " Well, no," said Poindexter. " I 'd hardly have man-
 
 134 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 aged things in this way." He checked himself, and added, 
 with a forgiving smile, "But he was the best judge of what 
 he needed, of course." 
 
 " I suppose I will hear from him," she said quietly, " as 
 soon as he is safe. He must have had enough else to think 
 about, poor fellow." 
 
 She said this so naturally and quietly that Poindexter was 
 deceived. He had no idea that the collected woman before 
 him was thinking only of solitude and darkness, of her own 
 room, and madly longing to be there. He said, " Yes, I 
 dare say," in quite another voice, and glanced at the picture. 
 But as she remained standing, he continued more earnestly, 
 " I did n't come here to tell you what you might read in the 
 newspapers to-morrow morning, and what everybody might 
 tell you. Before that time I want you to do something to 
 save a fragment of your property from the ruin ; do you 
 understand ? I want you to make a rally, and bring off 
 something in good order." 
 
 " For him ? " said Mrs. Tucker, with brightening eyes. 
 
 " Well, yes, of course if you like but as if for your- 
 self. Do you know the Eancho de los Cuervos ? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " It 's almost the only bit of real property your husband 
 has n't sold, mortgaged, or pledged. Why it was exempt, 
 or whether only forgotten, I can't say." 
 
 " I '11 tell you why," said Mrs. Tucker, with a slight re- 
 turn of color. " It was the first land we ever bought, and 
 Spencer always said it should be mine, and he would build 
 a new house on it." 
 
 Captain Poindexter smiled and nodded at the picture. 
 " Oh, he did say that, did he ? Well, that 's evidence. But 
 you see he never gave you the deed, and by sunrise to-mor- 
 row his creditors will attach it unless " 
 
 " Unless " repeated Mrs. Tucker, with kindling eyes. 
 
 " Unless," continued Captain Poindexter, " they happen 
 to find you in possession."
 
 A BLUE GKASS PENELOPE 135 
 
 " I '11 go," said Mrs. Tucker. 
 
 "Of course you will," returned Poindexter pleasantly. 
 " Only, as it 's a big contract to take, suppose we see how 
 you can fill it. It 's forty miles to Los Cuervos, and you 
 can't trust yourself to steamboat or stage-coach. The steam- 
 boat left an hour ago." 
 
 " If I had only known this then ! " ejaculated Mrs. 
 Tucker. 
 
 " / knew it, but you had company then," said Poindexter, 
 with ironical gallantry, " and I would n't disturb you." 
 Without saying how he knew it, he continued, " In the 
 stage-coach you might be recognized. You must go in a 
 private conveyance and alone ; even I cannot go with you, 
 for I must go on before and meet you there. Can you drive 
 forty miles ? " 
 
 Mrs. Tucker lifted up her abstracted pretty lids. " I 
 once drove fifty at home," she returned simply. 
 
 " Good ! And I dare say you did it then for fun. Do 
 it now for something real and personal, as we lawyers say. 
 You will have relays and a plan of the road. It 's rough 
 weather for a pasear, but all the better for that. You '11 
 have less company on the road." 
 
 " How soon can I go ? " she asked. 
 
 " The sooner the better. I 've arranged everything for 
 you already," he continued with a laugh. " Come now, 
 that 's a compliment to you, is n't it ? " He smiled a mo- 
 ment in her steadfast, earnest face, and then said more 
 gravely, " You '11 do. Now listen." 
 
 He then carefully detailed his plan. There was so little 
 of excitement or mystery in their manner that the servant, 
 who returned to light the gas, never knew that the ruin 
 and bankruptcy of the house was being told before her, or 
 that its mistress was planning her secret flight. 
 
 " Good-afternoon. I will see you to-morrow then," said 
 Poindexter, raising his eyes to hers as the servant opened 
 the door for him.
 
 136 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 "Good-afternoon," repeated Mrs. Tucker, quietly an- 
 swering his look. " You need not light the gas in my 
 room, Mary," she continued in the same tone of voice as 
 the door closed upon him ; " I shall lie down for a few 
 moments, and then I may run over to the Eobinsons for 
 the evening." 
 
 She regained her room composedly. The longing desire 
 to bury her head in her pillow and " think out " her posi- 
 tion had gone. She did not apostrophize her fate, she did 
 not weep ; few real women do in the access of calamity, or 
 when there is anything else to be done. She felt that she 
 knew it all ; she believed she had sounded the profoundest 
 depths of the disaster, and seemed already so old in her ex- 
 perience that she almost fancied she had been prepared for 
 it. Perhaps she did not fully appreciate it. To a life like 
 hers it was only an incident, the mere turning of a page of 
 the illimitable book of youth ; the breaking up of what she 
 now felt had become a monotony. In fact, she was not 
 quite sure she had ever been satisfied with their present suc- 
 cess. Had it brought her all she expected ? She wanted 
 to say this to her husband, not only to comfort him, poor 
 fellow, but that they might come to a better understanding 
 of life in the future. She was not perhaps different from 
 other loving women, who, believing in this unattainable goal 
 of matrimony, have sought it in the various episodes of 
 fortune or reverses, in the bearing of children, or the loss 
 of friends. In her childless experience there was no other 
 life that had taken root in her circumstances and might suffer 
 transplantation ; only she and her husband could lose or 
 profit by the change. The " better " understanding would 
 come under other conditions than these. 
 
 She would have gone superstitiously to the window to 
 gaze in the direction of the vanished ship, but another in- 
 stinct restrained her. She would put aside all yearning for 
 him until she had done something to help him, and earned
 
 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 137 
 
 the confidence he seemed to have withheld. Perhaps it 
 was pride perhaps she never really believed his exodus 
 was distant or complete. 
 
 With a full knowledge that to-morrow the various orna- 
 ments and pretty trifles around her would he in the hands 
 of the law, she gathered only a few necessaries for her 
 flight and some familiar personal trinkets. I am con- 
 strained to say that this self-abnegation was more fastidious 
 than moral. She had no more idea of the ethics of bank- 
 ruptcy than any other charming woman ; she simply did 
 not like to take with her any contagious memory of the 
 chapter of the life just closing. She glanced around the 
 home she was leaving without a lingering regret ; there 
 was no sentiment of tradition or custom that might be 
 destroyed ; her roots lay too near the surface to suffer dis- 
 location ; the happiness of her childless union had depended 
 upon no domestic centre, nor was its flame sacred to any 
 local hearthstone. It was without a sigh that, when night 
 had fully fallen, she slipped unnoticed down the staircase. 
 At the door of the drawing-room she paused, and then en- 
 tered with the first guilty feeling of shame she had known 
 that evening. Looking stealthily around, she mounted a 
 chair before her husband's picture, kissed the irreproachable 
 mustache hurriedly, said, " You foolish darling, you ! " and 
 slipped out agan. With this touching indorsement of the 
 views of a rival philosopher, she closed the door softly, and 
 left her home forever. 
 
 n 
 
 The wind and rain had cleared the unfrequented suburb 
 of any observant lounger, and the darkness, lit only by far- 
 spaced, gusty lamps, hid her hastening figure. She had 
 barely crossed the second street when she heard the quick 
 clatter of hoofs behind her ; a buggy drove up to the curb-
 
 138 A BLUE GKASS PENELOPE 
 
 stone, and Poindexter leaped out. She entered quickly, 
 but for a moment he still held the reins of the impatient 
 horse. " He 'a rather fresh," he said, eyeing her keenly ; 
 " are you sure you can manage him ? " 
 
 " Give me the reins," she said simply. 
 
 He placed them in the two firm, \vell-shaped hands that 
 reached from the depths of the vehicle, and was satisfied. 
 Yet he lingered. 
 
 " It 's rough work for a lone woman," he said almost 
 curtly. " I can't go with you, but, speak frankly, is there 
 any man you know whom you can trust well enough to 
 take ? It 's not too late yet ; think a moment ! " 
 
 He paused over the buttoning of the leather apron of the 
 vehicle. 
 
 "No, there is none," answered the voice from the in- 
 terior ; " and it 's better so. Is all ready ? " 
 
 " One moment more." He had recovered his half-ban- 
 tering manner. " You have a friend and countryman al- 
 ready with you, do you know ? Your horse is Blue Grass. 
 Good-night." 
 
 With these words ringing in her ears she began her jour- 
 ney. The horse, as if eager to maintain the reputation 
 which his native district had given his race, as well as the 
 race of the pretty woman behind him, leaped impatiently 
 forward. But pulled together by the fine and firm fingers 
 that seemed to guide rather than check his exuberance, he 
 presently struck into the long, swinging pace of his kind, 
 and kept it throughout without " break " or acceleration. 
 Over the paved streets the light buggy rattled, and the slen- 
 der shafts danced around his smooth barrel ; but when they 
 touched the level highroad, horse and vehicle slipped for- 
 ward through the night, a swift and noiseless phantom. 
 Mrs. Tucker could see his graceful back dimly rising and 
 falling before her with tireless rhythm, and could feel the 
 intelligent pressure of his mouth, until it seemed the respon-
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 139 
 
 sive grasp of a powerful but kindly hand. The faint glow 
 of conquest came to her cold cheek ; the slight stirrings of 
 pride moved her preoccupied heart. A soft light rilled her 
 hazel eyes. A desolate woman, bereft of husband and home, 
 and flying through storm and night, she knew not where, 
 she still leaned forward towards her horse. " Was he Blue 
 Grass, then, dear old boy ? " she gently cooed at him in the 
 darkness. He evidently was, and responded by blowing 
 her an ostentatious equine kiss. " And he would be good 
 to his own forsaken Belle," she murmured caressingly, 
 " and would n't let any one harm her ? " But here, over- 
 come by the lazy witchery of her voice, he shook his head 
 so violently that Mrs. Tucker, after the fashion of her sex, 
 had the double satisfaction of demurely restraining the 
 passion she had evoked. 
 
 To avoid the more traveled thoroughfare, while the even- 
 ing Avas still early, it had been arranged that she should at 
 first take a less direct but less frequented road. This was 
 a famous pleasure-drive from San Francisco, a graveled and 
 sanded stretch of eight miles to the sea, and an ultimate 
 " cocktail," in a " stately pleasure-dome decreed " among 
 the surf and rocks of the Pacific shore. It was deserted 
 now, and left to the unobstructed sweep of the wind and 
 rain. Mrs. Tucker would not have chosen this road. With 
 the instinctive jealousy of a bucolic inland race born by 
 great rivers, she did not like the sea ; and again, the dim 
 and dreary waste tended to recall the vision connected with 
 her husband's flight, upon which she had resolutely shut her 
 eyes. But when she had reached it the road suddenly 
 turned, following the trend of the beach, and she was ex- 
 posed to the full power of its dread fascinations. The com- 
 bined roar of sea and shore was in her ears. As the direct 
 force of the gale had compelled her to furl the protecting 
 hood of the buggy to keep the light vehicle from oversetting 
 or drifting to leeward, she could no longer shut out the
 
 140 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 heaving chaos on the right, from which the pallid ghosts of 
 dead and dying breakers dimly rose and sank as if in awful 
 salutation. At times through the darkness a white sheet 
 appeared spread before the path and beneath the wheels of 
 the buggy, which, when withdrawn with a reluctant hiss, 
 seemed striving to drag the exhausted beach seaward with 
 it. But the blind terror of her horse, who swerved at 
 every sweep of the surge, shamed her own half-supersti- 
 tious fears, and with the effort to control his alarm she 
 regained her own self-possession, albeit with eyelashes wet 
 not altogether with the salt spray from the sea. This was 
 followed by a reaction, perhaps stimulated by her victory 
 over the beaten animal, when for a time, she knew not 
 how long, she felt only a mad sense of freedom and power, 
 oblivious of even her sorrows, her lost home and husband, 
 and with intense feminine consciousness she longed to be a 
 man. She was scarcely aware that the track turned again 
 inland until the beat of the horse's hoofs on the firm ground 
 and an acceleration of speed showed her she had left the 
 beach and the mysterious sea behind her, and she remem- 
 bered that she was near the end of the first stage of her 
 journey. Half an hour later the twinkling lights of the 
 roadside inn where she was to change horses rose out of the 
 darkness. 
 
 Happily for her, the hostler considered the horse, who 
 had a local reputation, of more importance than the un- 
 known muffled figure in the shadow of the unfurled hood, 
 and confined his attention to the animal. After a careful 
 examination of his feet and a few comments addressed 
 solely to the superior creation, he led him away. Mrs. 
 Tucker would have liked to part more affectionately from 
 her four-footed compatriot, and felt a sudden sense of lone- 
 liness at the loss of her new friend, but a recollection of 
 certain cautions of Captain Poindexter's kept her mute. 
 Nevertheless, the hostler's ostentatious adjuration of " Now
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 141 
 
 then, are n't you going to bring out that mustang for the 
 senora ? " puzzled her. It was not until the fresh horse 
 was put to, and she had flung a piece of gold into the 
 attendant's hand, that the " Gracias " of his unmistakable 
 Saxon speech revealed to her the reason of the lawyer's 
 caution. Poindexter had evidently represented her to these 
 people as a native Californian who did not speak English. 
 In her inconsistency her blood took fire at this first sug- 
 gestion of deceit, and burned in her face. Why should 
 he try to pass her off as anybody else ? Why should she 
 not use her own, her husband's name ? She stopped and 
 bit her lip. 
 
 It was but the beginning of an uneasy train of thought. 
 She suddenly found herself thinking of her visitor, Cal- 
 houn Weaver, and not pleasantly. He would hear of their 
 ruin to-morrow, perhaps of her own flight. He would 
 remember his visit, and what would he think of her deceit- 
 ful frivolity ? Would he believe that she was then ignorant 
 of the failure ? It was her first sense of any accounta- 
 bility to others than herself, but even then it was rather 
 owing to an uneasy consciousness of what her husband 
 must feel if he were subjected to the criticisms of men like 
 Calhoun. She wondered if others knew that he had kept 
 her in ignorance of his flight. Did Poindexter know it, or 
 had he only entrapped her into the admission ? Why had 
 she not been clever enough to make him think that she 
 knew it already ? For the moment she hated Poindexter 
 for sharing that secret. Yet this was again followed by a 
 new impatience of her husband's want of insight into her 
 ability to help him. Of course the poor fellow could not 
 bear to worry her, could not bear to face such men as Cal- 
 houn, or even Poindexter (she added exultingly to herself), 
 but he might have sent her a line as he fled, only to pre- 
 pare her to meet and combat the shame alone. It did not 
 occur to her unsophisticated singleness of nature that she
 
 142 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 was accepting as an error of feeling what the world would 
 call cowardly selfishness. 
 
 At midnight the storm lulled, and a few stars trembled 
 through the rent clouds. Her eyes had become accustomed 
 to the darkness, and her country instincts, a little overlaid 
 by the urban experiences of the last few years, came again 
 to the surface. She felt the fresh, cool radiation from 
 outlying, upturned fields, the faint, sad odors from dim 
 stretches of pricking grain and quickening leaf, and won- 
 dered if at Los Cuervos it might be possible to reproduce 
 the peculiar verdure of her native district. She beguiled 
 her fancy by an ambitious plan of retrieving their fortunes 
 by farming ; her comfortable tastes had lately rebelled 
 against the homeless mechanical cultivation of those des- 
 olate but teeming Californian acres, and for a moment 
 indulged in a vision of a vine-clad cottage home that in any 
 other woman would have been sentimental. Her cramped 
 limbs aching, she took advantage of the security of the 
 darkness and the familiar contiguity of the fields to get 
 down from the vehicle, gather her skirts together, and run 
 at the head of the mustang, until her chill blood was 
 thawed, night drawing a modest veil over this charming 
 revelation of the nymph and woman. But the sudden 
 shadow of a coyote checked the scouring feet of this swift 
 Camilla, and sent her back precipitately to the buggy. 
 Nevertheless, she was refreshed and able to pursue her 
 journey, until the cold gray of early morning found her at 
 the end of her second stage. 
 
 Her route was changed again from the main highway, 
 rendered dangerous by the approach of day and the con- 
 tiguity of the neighboring rancheros. The road was rough 
 and hilly, her new horse and vehicle in keeping with the 
 rudeness of the route by far the most difficult of her 
 whole journey. The rare wagon tracks that indicated her 
 road were often scarcely discernible ; at times they led
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 143 
 
 her through openings in the half-cleared woods, skirted 
 suspicious morasses, painfully climbed the smooth, dome- 
 like hills, or wound along perilous slopes at a dangerous 
 angle. Twice she had to alight and cling to the sliding 
 wheels on one of those treacherous inclines, or drag them 
 from impending ruts or immovable mire. In the growing 
 light she could distinguish the distant, low-lying marshes 
 eaten by encroaching sloughs and insidious channels, and 
 beyond them the faint gray waste of the lower bay. A 
 darker peninsula in the marsh she knew to be the extreme 
 boundary of her future home : the Eancho de los Cuervos. 
 In another hour she began to descend to the plain, and 
 once more to approach the main road, which now ran 
 nearly parallel with her track. She scanned it cautiously 
 for any early traveler ! it stretched north and south in 
 apparent unending solitude. She struck into it boldly, and 
 urged her horse to the top of his speed, until she reached 
 the cross-road that led to the rancho. But here she paused 
 and allowed the reins to drop idly on the mustang's back. 
 A singular and unaccountable irresolution seized her. The 
 difficulties of her journey were over ; the rancho lay scarcely 
 two miles away ; she had achieved the most important part 
 of her task in the appointed time ; but she hesitated. What 
 had she come for ? She tried to recall Poindexter's words, 
 even her own enthusiasm, but in vain. She was going to 
 take possession of her husband's property, she knew, that 
 was all. But the means she had taken seemed now so 
 exaggerated and mysterious for that simple end, that she 
 began to dread an impending something, or socae vague 
 danger she had not considered, that she was rushing blindly 
 to meet. Full of this strange feeling, she almost mechan- 
 ically stopped her horse as she entered the cross-road. 
 
 From this momentary hesitation a singular sound aroused 
 her. It seemed at first like the swift hurrying by of some 
 viewless courier of the air, the vague alarm of some invisi-
 
 144 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 ble flying herald, or like the inarticulate cry that precedes 
 a storm. It seemed to rise and fall around her as if with 
 some changing urgency of purpose. Raising her eyes, she 
 suddenly recognized the two far-stretching lines of telegraph 
 wire above her head, and knew the seolian cry of the morn- 
 ing wind along its vibrating chords. But it brought another 
 and more practical fear to her active brain. Perhaps even 
 now the telegraph might be anticipating her ! Had Poin- 
 dexter thought of that ? She hesitated no longer, but laying 
 the whip on the back of her jaded mustang, again hurried 
 forward. 
 
 As the level horizon grew more distinct, her attention 
 was attracted by the white sail of a small boat lazily thread- 
 ing the sinuous channel of the slough. It might be Poin- 
 dexter arriving by the more direct route from the steamboat 
 that occasionally laid off the ancient embarcadero of the 
 Los Cuervos Eancho. But even while watching it her 
 quick ear caught the sound of galloping hoofs behind her. 
 She turned quickly and saw she was followed by a horseman. 
 But her momentary alarm was succeeded by a feeling of 
 relief as she recognized the erect figure and square shoul- 
 ders of Poindexter. Yet she could not help thinking that 
 he looked more like a militant scout, and less like a cau- 
 tious legal adviser, than ever. 
 
 With unaffected womanliness she rearranged her slightly 
 disordered hair as he drew up beside her. " I thought you 
 were in yonder boat," she said. 
 
 " Not I," he laughed ; " I distanced you by the high- 
 road two 'hours, and have been reconnoitring, until I saw 
 you hesitate at the cross-roads." 
 
 " But who is in the boat ? " asked Mrs. Tucker, partly 
 to hide her embarrassment. 
 
 " Only some early Chinese market gardener, I dare say. 
 But you are safe now. You are on your own land. You 
 passed the boundary monument of the rancho five minutes
 
 A BLUE GKASS PENELOPE 145 
 
 ago. Look ! All you see before you is yours from the 
 embarcadero to yonder Coast Eange." 
 
 The tone of half raillery did not, however, cheer Mrs. 
 Tucker. She shuddered slightly, and cast her eyes over 
 the monotonous sea of tule and meadow. 
 
 " It does n't look pretty, perhaps," continued Poindexter, 
 " but it 's the richest land in the State, and the embarcadero 
 will some day be a town. I suppose you '11 call it Blue 
 Grassville. But you seem tired ! " he said, suddenly drop- 
 ping his voice to a tone of half-humorous sympathy. 
 
 Mrs. Tucker managed to, get rid of an impending tear 
 under the pretense of clearing her eyes. " Are we nearly 
 there ? " she asked. 
 
 " Nearly. You know," he added, with the same half- 
 mischievous, half-sympathizing gayety, " it 's not exactly 
 a palace you 're coining to, hardly. It 's the old casa 
 that has been deserted for years, but I thought it better 
 you should go into possession there than take up your 
 abode at the shanty where your husband's farm-hands are. 
 No one will know when you take possession of the casa, 
 while the very hour of your arrival at the shanty would be 
 known ; and if they should make any trouble " 
 
 " If they should make any trouble ? " repeated Mrs. 
 Tucker, lifting her frank, inquiring eyes to Poindexter. 
 
 His horse suddenly rearing from an apparently acci- 
 dental prick of the spur, it was a minute or two before he 
 was able to explain. " I mean if this ever comes up as a 
 matter of evidence, you know. But here we are ! " 
 
 What had seemed to be an overgrown mound rising 
 like an island out of the dead level of the grassy sea now 
 resolved itself into a collection of adobe walls, eaten and 
 incrusted with shrubs and vines, that bore some resem- 
 blance to the usual uninhabited - looking exterior of a 
 Spanish-American dwelling. Apertures that might have 
 been lance-shaped windows or only cracks and fissures in
 
 146 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 the walls were choked up with weeds and grass, and gave 
 no passing glimpse of the interior. Entering a ruinous 
 corral they came to a second entrance, which proved to be 
 the patio or courtyard. The deserted wooden corridor, with 
 beams, rafters, and floors whitened by the sun and wind, 
 contained a few withered leaves, dryly rotting skins, and 
 thongs of leather, as if undisturbed by human care. But 
 among these scattered debris of former life and habitation 
 there was no noisome or unclean suggestion of decay. A 
 faint spiced odor of desiccation filled the bare walls. There 
 was no slime on stone or sun-dried brick. In place of 
 fungus or discolored moisture the dust of efflorescence 
 whitened in the obscured corners. The elements had 
 picked clean the bones of the old and crumbling tenement 
 ere they should finally absorb it. 
 
 A withered old peon woman, who in dress, complexion, 
 and fibrous hair might have been an animated fragment of 
 the debris, rustled out of a low vaulted passage and wel- 
 comed them with a feeble crepitation. Following her into 
 the dim interior, Mrs. Tucker was surprised to find some 
 slight attempt at comfort and even adornment in the two 
 or three habitable apartments. They were scrupulously 
 clean and dry, two qualities which in her feminine eyes 
 atoned for poverty of material. 
 
 " I could not send anything from San Bruno, the near- 
 est village, without attracting attention," explained Poin- 
 dexter ; " but if you can manage to picnic here for a day 
 longer, I '11 get one of our Chinese friends here," he pointed 
 to the slough, " to bring over, for his return cargo from 
 across the bay, any necessaries you may want. There is 
 no danger of his betraying you," he added, with an ironi- 
 cal smile ; " Chinamen and Indians are, by an ingenious 
 provision of the statute of California, incapable of giving 
 evidence against a white person. You can trust your 
 handmaiden perfectly even if she can't trust you. That
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 147 
 
 is your sacred privilege under the constitution. And now, 
 as I expect to catch the up hoat ten miles from hence, I 
 must say <good-by' until to-morrow night. I hope to 
 bring you then some more definite plans for the future. 
 The worst is over." He held her hand for a moment, and 
 with a graver voice continued, " You have done it very 
 well do you know very well ! " 
 
 In the slight embarrassment produced by his sudden 
 change of manner she felt that her thanks seemed awkward 
 and restrained. "Don't thank me," he laughed, with a 
 prompt return of his former levity ; " that 's my trade. I 
 only advised. You have saved yourself like a plucky 
 woman shall I say like Blue Grass ? Good-by ! " He 
 mounted his horse, but, as if struck by an after-thought, 
 wheeled and drew up by her side again. " If I were you 
 I would n't see many strangers for a day or two, and 
 listen to as little news as a woman possibly can." He 
 laughed again, waved her a half-gallant, half-military sa- 
 lute, and was gone. The question she had been trying to 
 frame, regarding the probability of communication with her 
 husband, remained unasked. At least she had saved her 
 pride before him. 
 
 Addressing herself to the care of her narrow household, 
 she mechanically put away the few things she had brought 
 with her, and began to readjust the scant furniture. She 
 was a little discomposed at first at the absence of bolts, locks, 
 and even window-fastenings until assured, by Concha's evi- 
 dent inability to comprehend her concern, that they were 
 quite unknown at Los Cuervos. Her slight knowledge of 
 Spanish was barely sufficient to make her wants known, so 
 that the relief of conversation with her only companion was 
 debarred her, and she was obliged to content herself with 
 the sapless, crackling smiles and withered genuflexions that 
 the old woman dropped like dead leaves in her path. It 
 was staring noon when, the house singing like an empty
 
 148 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 shell in the monotonous wind, she felt she could stand the 
 solitude no longer, and, crossing the glaring patio and whis- 
 tling corridor, made her way to the open gateway. 
 
 But the view without seemed to intensify her desolation. 
 The broad expanse of the shadowless plain reached appar- 
 ently to the Coast Range, trackless and unbroken save by 
 one or two clusters of dwarfed oaks, which at that distance 
 were but mossy excrescences on the surface, barely raised 
 above the dead level. On the other side the marsh took 
 up the monotony and carried it, scarcely interrupted by un- 
 defined water-courses, to the faintly marked-out horizon line 
 of the remote bay. Scattered and apparently motionless 
 black spots on the meadows that gave a dreary significance 
 to the title of " The Crows " which the rancho bore, and 
 sudden gray clouds of sandpipers on the marshes, that rose 
 and vanished down the wind, were the only signs of life. 
 Even the white sail of the early morning was gone. 
 
 She stood there until the aching of her straining eyes and 
 the stiffening of her limbs in the cold wind compelled her to 
 seek the sheltered warmth of the courtyard. Here she en- 
 deavored to make friends with a bright-eyed lizard, who was 
 sunning himself in the corridor ; a graceful little creature in 
 blue and gold, from whom she felt at other times she might 
 have fled, but whose beauty and harmlessness solitude had 
 made known to her. With misplaced kindness she tempted 
 it with bread-crumbs, with no other effect than to stiffen it 
 into stony astonishment. She wondered if she should be- 
 come like the prisoners she had read of in books, who 
 poured out their solitary affections on noisome creatures, 
 and she regretted even the mustang, which with the buggy 
 had disappeared under the charge of some unknown retainer 
 on her arrival. Was she not a prisoner ? The shutterless 
 windows, yawning doors, and open gate refuted the sugges- 
 tion, but the encompassing solitude and trackless waste still 
 held her captive. Poindexter had told her it was four miles
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 149 
 
 to the shanty ; she might walk there. Why had she given 
 her word that she would remain at the rancho until he 
 returned ? 
 
 The long day crept monotonously away, and she wel- 
 comed the night which shut out the dreary prospect. But 
 it brought no cessation of the harassing wind without, nor 
 surcease of the nervous irritation its perpetual and even ac- 
 tivity wrought upon her. It haunted her pillow even in her 
 exhausted sleep, and seemed to impatiently beckon her to 
 rise and follow it. It brought her feverish dreams of her 
 husband, footsore and weary, staggering forward under its 
 pitiless lash and clamorous outcry ; she would have gone to 
 his assistance, but when she reached his side and held out 
 her arms to him it hurried her past with merciless power, 
 and, bearing her away, left him hopelessly behind. It was 
 broad day when she awoke. The usual night showers of the 
 waning rainy season had left no trace in sky or meadow ; 
 the fervid morning sun had already dried the patio ; only the 
 restless, harrying wind remained. 
 
 Mrs. Tucker arose with a resolve. She had learned from 
 Concha on the previous evening that a part of the shanty 
 was used as a tienda or shop for the laborers and rancheros. 
 Under the necessity of purchasing some articles, she would 
 go there and for a moment mingle with those people, who 
 would not recognize her. Even if they did, her instinct told 
 her it would be less to be feared than the hopeless uncer- 
 tainty of another day. As she left the house the wind 
 seemed to seize her as in her dream, and hurry her along 
 with it, until in a few moments the walls of the low casa 
 sank into the earth again, and she was alone but for the 
 breeze on the solitary plain. The level distance glittered 
 in the sharp light, a few crows with slant wings dipped 
 and ran down the wind before her, and a passing gleam on 
 the marsh was explained by the far-off cry of a curlew. 
 
 She had walked for an hour, upheld by the stimulus of
 
 150 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 .light and morning air, when the cluster of scrub oaks, which 
 was her destination, opened enough to show two rambling 
 sheds, before one of which was a wooden platform contain- 
 ing a few barrels and bones. As she approached nearer, 
 she could see that one or two horses were tethered under 
 the trees, that their riders were lounging by a horse-trough, 
 and that over an open door the word " Tienda " was rudely 
 painted on a board, and as rudely illustrated by the wares 
 displayed at door and window. Accustomed as she was to 
 the poverty of frontier architecture, even the crumbling 
 walls of the old hacienda she had just left seemed pictur- 
 esque to the rigid angles of the thin, blank, unpainted shell 
 before her. 
 
 One of the loungers, who was reading a newspaper aloud 
 as she advanced, put it aside and stared at her ; there was 
 an evident commotion in the shop as she stepped upon the 
 platform, and when she entered, with breathless lips and 
 beating heart, she found herself the object of a dozen 
 curious eyes. Her quick pride resented the scrutiny and 
 recalled her courage, and it was with a slight coldness in 
 her usual lazy indifference that she leaned over the counter 
 and asked for the articles she wanted. 
 
 The request was followed by a dead silence. Mrs. 
 Tucker repeated it with some hauteur. 
 
 " I reckon you don't seem to know this store is in the 
 hands of the sheriff," said one of the loungers. 
 
 Mrs. Tucker was not aware of it. 
 
 " Well, I don't know any one who 's a better right to 
 know than Spence Tucker's wife," said another with a coarse 
 laugh. The laugh was echoed by the others. Mrs. Tucker 
 saw the pit into which she had deliberately walked, but did 
 not flinch. 
 
 " Is there any one to serve here ? " she asked, turning 
 her clear eyes full upon the bystanders. 
 
 " You 'd better ask the sheriff. He was the last one to
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 151 
 
 sarve here. He sarved an attachment," replied the inevi- 
 table humorist of all Californian assemblages. 
 
 " Is he here ? " asked Mrs. Tucker, disregarding the re- 
 newed laughter which followed this subtle witticism. 
 
 The loungers at the door made way for one of their party, 
 who was half dragged, half pushed into the shop. " Here 
 he is," said half a dozen eager voices, in the fond belief that 
 his presence might impart additional humor to the situation. 
 He cast a deprecating glance at Mrs. Tucker, and said, " It 'a 
 so, madam ! This yer place is attached ; but if there 's 
 anything you 're wanting, why I reckon, boys," he 
 turned half appealingly to the crowd, " we could oblige 
 a lady." There was a vague sound of angry opposition and 
 remonstrance from the back door of the shop, but the 
 majority, partly overcome by Mrs. Tucker's beauty, assented. 
 " Only," continued the officer explanatorily, " ez these yer 
 goods are in the hands of the creditors, they ought to be 
 represented by an equivalent in money. If you 're expect- 
 ing they should be charged " 
 
 " But I wish to pay for them," interrupted Mrs. Tucker, 
 with a slight flush of indignation ; " I have the money." 
 
 " Oh, I bet you have ! " screamed a voice, as, overturn- 
 ing all opposition, the malcontent at the back door, in the 
 shape of an infuriated woman, forced her way into the shop. 
 " I '11 bet you have the money ! Look at her, boys ! Look 
 at the wife of the thief, with the stolen money in diamonds 
 in her ears and rings on her fingers. She 's got money if 
 we've none. She can pay for what she fancies, if we 
 have n't a cent to redeem the bed that 's stolen from under 
 us. Oh, yes, buy it all, Mrs. Spencer Tucker ! buy the 
 whole shop, Mrs. Spencer Tucker, do you hear ? And if 
 you ain't satisfied then, buy my clothes, my wedding ring, 
 the only things your husband has n't stolen." 
 
 " I don't understand you," said Mrs. Tucker coldly, 
 turning towards the door. But with a flying leap across
 
 152 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 the counter her relentless adversary stood between her and 
 retreat. 
 
 " You don't understand ! Perhaps you don't under- 
 stand that your husband not only stole the hard labor of 
 these men, but even the little money they brought here 
 and trusted to his thieving hands. Perhaps you don't 
 know that he stole my husband's hard earnings, mortgaged 
 these very goods you want to buy, and that he is to-day a 
 convicted thief, a forger, and a runaway coward. Perhaps, 
 if you can't understand me, you can read the newspaper. 
 Look ! " She exultingly opened the paper the sheriff had 
 been reading aloud, and pointed to the displayed headlines. 
 " Look ! there are the very words, ' Forgery, Swindling, 
 Embezzlement ! ' Do you see ? And perhaps you can't 
 understand this. Look ! < Shameful Flight. Abandons 
 his Wife. Euns off with a Notorious ' " 
 
 " Easy, old gal, easy now. D n it ! Will you dry 
 up ? I say. Stop ! " 
 
 It was too late ! The sheriff had dashed the paper from 
 the woman's hand, but not until Mrs. Tucker had read a 
 single line, a line such as she had sometimes turned from 
 with weary scorn in her careless perusal of the daily shame- 
 ful chronicle of domestic infelicity. Then she had coldly 
 wondered if there could be any such men and women. And 
 now ! The crowd fell back before her ; even the virago 
 was silenced as she looked at her face. The humorist's 
 face was as white, but not as immobile, as he gasped, 
 " Christ ! if I don't believe she knew nothin' of it ! " 
 
 For a moment the full force of such a supposition, with 
 all its poignancy, its dramatic intensity, and its pathos, 
 possessed the crowd. In the momentary clairvoyance of 
 enthusiasm they caught a glimpse of the truth, and by one 
 of the strange reactions of human passion they only waited 
 for a word of appeal or explanation from her lips to throw 
 themselves at her feet. Had she simply told her story
 
 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 153 
 
 they would have believed her ; had she cried, fainted, or 
 gone into hysterics, they would have pitied her. She did 
 neither. Perhaps she thought of neither, or indeed of any- 
 thing that was then before her eyes. She walked erect to 
 the door, and turned upon the threshold. " I mean what 
 I say," she said calmly. " I don't understand you. But 
 whatever just claims you have upon my husband will be 
 paid by me, or by his lawyer, Captain Poindexter." 
 
 She had lost the sympathy but not the respect of her 
 hearers. They made way for her with sullen deference as 
 she passed out on the platform. But her adversary, profit- 
 ing by the last opportunity, burst into an ironical laugh. 
 
 " Captain Poindexter, is it ? Well, perhaps he 's safe to 
 pay your bill ; but as for your husband's " 
 
 " That 's another matter," interrupted a familiar voice 
 with the greatest cheerfulness ; " that 's what you were 
 going to say, wa^ n't it ? Ha, ha ! Well, Mrs. Patter- 
 son," continued Poindexter, stepping from his buggy, " you 
 never spoke a truer word in your life. One moment, Mrs. 
 Tucker. Let me send you back in the buggy. Don't mind 
 me. I can get a fresh horse of the sheriff. I 'm quite at 
 home here." Then, turning to one of the bystanders, " I 
 say, Patterson, step a few paces this way, will you ? A 
 little further from your wife, please. That will do. You 've 
 got a claim of five thousand dollars against the property, 
 have n't you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, that woman just driving away is your one soli- 
 tary chance of getting a cent of it. If your wife insults her 
 again, that chance is gone. And if you do " 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " As sure as there is a God in Israel and a Supreme 
 Court of the State of California, I '11 kill you in your 
 tracks ! Stay ! " 
 
 Patterson turned. The irrepressible look of humorous
 
 154 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 tolerance of all human frailty had suffused Poindexter's 
 black eyes with mischievous moisture. " If you think it 
 quite safe to confide to your wife this prospect of her im- 
 provement by widowhood, you may ! " 
 
 HI 
 
 Mr. Patterson did not inform his wife of the lawyer's 
 personal threat to himself. But he managed, after Poin- 
 dexter had left, to make her conscious that Mrs. Tucker 
 might be a power to be placated and feared. " You 've 
 shot off your mouth at her," he said argumentatively, " and 
 whether you 've hit the mark or not you 've had your say. 
 Ef you think it 's worth a possible five thousand dollars and 
 interest to keep on, heave ahead. Ef you rather have the 
 chance of. getting the rest in cash, you 'y. let up on her." 
 " You don't suppose," returned Mrs. Patterson contemp- 
 tuously, " that she 's got anything but what that man of hers 
 Poindexter lets her have ? " "The sheriff says," re- 
 torted Patterson surlily, " that she 's notified him that she 
 claims the rancho as a gift from her husband three years 
 ago, and she 's in possession now, and was so when the exe- 
 cution was out. It don't make no matter," he added, with 
 gloomy philosophy, " who 's got a full hand as long as we 
 ain't got the cards to chip in. I would n't 'a' minded it," 
 he continued meditatively, " ef Spence Tucker had dropped 
 a hint to me afore he put out." " And I suppose," said 
 Mrs. Patterson angrily, " you 'd have put out too ? " "I 
 reckon," said Patterson simply. 
 
 Twice or thrice during the evening he referred, more or 
 less directly, to this lack of confidence shown by his late 
 debtor and employer, and seemed to feel it more keenly 
 than the loss of property. He confided his sentiments 
 quite openly to the sheriff in possession, over the whiskey
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 155 
 
 and euchre with which these gentlemen avoided the diffi- 
 culties of their delicate relations. He brooded over it as 
 he handed the keys of the shop to the sheriff when they 
 parted for the night, and was still thinking of it when the 
 house was closed, everybody gone to bed, and he was fetch- 
 ing a fresh jug of water from the well. The moon was at 
 times obscured by flying clouds, the avant-couriers of the 
 regular evening shower. He was stooping over the well, 
 when he sprang suddenly to his feet again. " Who 's 
 there ? " he demanded sharply. 
 
 " Hush ! " said a voice so low and faint it might have 
 been a whisper of the wind in the palisades of the corral. 
 But, indistinct as it was, it was the voice of a man he was 
 thinking of as far away, and it sent a thrill of alternate awe 
 and pleasure through his pulses. 
 
 He glanced quickly round. The moon was hidden by a 
 passing cloud, and only the faint outlines of the house he 
 had just quitted were visible. " Is that you, Spence ? " 
 he said tremulously. 
 
 " Yes," replied the voice, and a figure dimly emerged 
 from the corner of the corral. 
 
 " Lay low, lay low, for God's sake," said Patterson, hur- 
 riedly throwing himself upon the apparition. " The sheriff 
 and his posse are in there." 
 
 " But I must speak to you a moment," said the figure. 
 
 "Wait," said Patterson, glancing toward the building. 
 Its blank, shutterless windows revealed no inner light ; a 
 profound silence encompassed it. " Come quick," he whis- 
 pered. Letting his grasp slip down to the unresisting hand 
 of the stranger, he half dragged, half led him, brushing 
 against the wall, into the open door of the deserted bar-room 
 he had just quitted, locked the inner door, poured a glass of 
 whiskey from a decanter, gave it to him, and then watched 
 him drain it at a single draught. The moon came out, and 
 falling through the bare windows full upon the stranger's
 
 156 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 face, revealed the artistic but slightly disheveled curls and 
 mustache of the fugitive, Spencer Tucker. 
 
 Whatever may have heen the real influence of this unfor- 
 tunate man upon his fellows, it seemed to find expression 
 in a singular unanimity of criticism. Patterson looked at 
 him with a half-dismal, half-welcoming smile. " Well, you 
 are a h 11 of a fellow, ain't you ? " 
 
 Spencer Tucker passed his hand through his hair and 
 lifted it from his forehead, with a gesture at once emotional 
 and theatrical. "I am a man with a price on me ! " he 
 said bitterly. " Give me up to the sheriff, and you '11 get 
 five thousand dollars. Help me, and you '11 get nothing. 
 That 's my d d luck, and yours too, I suppose." 
 
 " I reckon you 're right there," said Patterson gloomily. 
 " But I thought you got clean away went off in a ship " 
 
 " Went off in a boat to a ship," interrupted Tucker sav- 
 agely ; " went off to a ship that had all my things on board 
 everything. The cursed boat capsized in a squall just 
 off the Heads. The ship, d n her, sailed away, the men 
 thinking I was drowned likely, and that they 'd make a 
 good thing off my goods, I reckon." 
 
 " But the girl, Inez, who was with you, did n't she make 
 a row ? " 
 
 " Quien sabe ? " returned Tucker, with a reckless laugh. 
 " Well, I hung on like grim death to that boat's keel until 
 one of those Chinese fishermen, in a ' dug-out,' hauled me 
 in opposite Saucelito. I chartered him and his dug-out to 
 bring me down here." 
 
 " Why here ? " asked Patterson, with a certain ostenta- 
 tious caution that ill concealed his pensive satisfaction. 
 
 " You may well ask," returned Tucker, with an equal 
 ostentation of bitterness, as he slightly waved his companion 
 away. "But I reckoned I could trust a white man that 
 I 'd been kind to, and who would n't go back on me. No, 
 no, let me go ! Hand me over to the sheriff 1 "
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 157 
 
 Patterson had suddenly grasped both the hands of the 
 picturesque scamp before him, with an affection that for an 
 instant almost shamed the man who had ruined him. But 
 Tucker's egotism whispered that this affection was only a 
 recognition of his own superiority, and felt nattered. He 
 was beginning to believe that he was really the injured 
 party. 
 
 " What I have and what I have had is yours, Spence," 
 returned Patterson, with a sad and simple directness that 
 made any further discussion a gratuitous insult. " I only 
 wanted to know what you reckoned to do here." 
 
 " I want to get over across the Coast Range to Monterey," 
 said Tucker. " Once there, one of those coasting schooners 
 will bring me down to Acapulco, where the ship will put 
 in." 
 
 Patterson remained silent for a moment. " There 's a 
 mustang in the corral you can take leastways, I sha'n't 
 know that it 's gone until to-morrow afternoon. In an 
 hour from now," he added, looking from the window, " these 
 clouds will settle down to business. It will rain ; there 
 will be light enough for you to find your way by the regular 
 trail over the mountain, but not enough for any one to know 
 you. If you can't push through to-night, you can lie over 
 at the posada on the summit. Them greasers that keep it 
 won't know you, and if they did they won't go back on you. 
 And if they did go back on you, nobody would believe 
 them. It 's mighty curious," he added, with gloomy philoso- 
 phy, " but I reckon it 's the reason why Providence allows 
 this kind of cattle to live among white men and others made 
 in his image. Take a piece of pie, won't you ? " he con- 
 tinued, abandoning this abstract reflection and producing half 
 a flat pumpkin pie from the bar. Spencer Tucker grasped 
 the pie with one hand and his friend's fingers with the other, 
 and for a few moments was silent from the hurried degluti-- 
 tion of viand and sentiment. " You 're a white man, Pat-
 
 158 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 
 
 terson, anyway," he resumed. " I '11 take your horse, and 
 put it down in our account at your own figure. As soon as 
 this cursed thing is blown over, I '11 be back here and see 
 you through, you bet ! I don't desert my friends, however 
 rough things go with me." 
 
 " I see you don't," returned Patterson, with an uncon- 
 scious and serious simplicity that had the effect of the most 
 exquisite irony. " I was only just saying to the sheriff 
 that if there was anything I could have done for you, you 
 would n't have cut away without letting me know." Tucker 
 glanced uneasily at Patterson, who continued, "Ye ain't 
 wanting anything else ? " Then observing that his former 
 friend and patron was roughly but newly clothed, and be- 
 trayed no trace of his last escapade, he added, " I see you 've 
 got a fresh harness." 
 
 " That d d Chinaman bought me these at the landing. 
 They 're not much in style or fit," he continued, trying to 
 get a moonlight view of himself in the mirror behind the 
 bar, " but that don't matter here." He filled another glass 
 of spirits, jauntily settled himself back in his chair, and 
 added, " I don't suppose there are any girls around, any- 
 way." 
 
 " 'Cept your wife ; she was down here this afternoon," 
 said Patterson meditatively. 
 
 Mr. Tucker paused with the pie in his hand. " Ah, 
 yes ! " He essayed a reckless laugh, but that evident simu- 
 lation failed before Patterson's melancholy. With an as- 
 sumption of falling in with his friend's manner, rather than 
 from any personal anxiety, he continued, " Well ? " 
 
 " That man Poindexter was down here with her. Put 
 her in the hacienda to hold possession afore the news came 
 out." 
 
 " Impossible ! " said Tucker, rising hastily. " It don't 
 belong that is " he hesitated. 
 
 " Yer thinking the creditors '11 get it, mebbe," returned
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 159 
 
 Patterson, gazing at the floor. " Not as long as she 's in 
 it ; no, sir ! Whether it 's really hers, or she 's only keep- 
 ing house for Poindexter, she 's a fixture, you bet. They 
 are a team when they pull together, they are ! " 
 
 The smile slowly faded from Tucker's face, that now 
 looked quite rigid in the moonlight. He put down his 
 glass, and walked to the window as Patterson gloomily 
 continued : " But that 's nothing to you. You 've got 
 ahead of 'em both, and had your revenge by going off with 
 the gal. That 's what I said all along. When folks spe- 
 cially women folks wondered how you could leave a wo- 
 man like your wife, and go off with a scallawag like that 
 gal, I allers said they 'd find out there was a reason. And 
 when your wife came flaunting down here with Poindexter 
 before she 'd quite got quit of you, I reckon they began to 
 see the whole little game. No, sir ! I knew it was n't on 
 account of the gal ! Why, when you came here to-night 
 and told me quite nat'ral-like and easy how she went off in 
 the ship, and then calmly ate your pie and drank your 
 whiskey after it, I knew you did n't care for her. There 's 
 my hand, Spence ; you 're a trump, even if you are a little 
 looney, eh ? Why, what 's up ? " 
 
 Shallow and selfish as Tucker was, Patterson's words 
 seemed like a revelation, that shocked him as profoundly 
 as it might have shocked a nobler nature. The simple 
 vanity and selfishness that made him unable to conceive 
 ally higher reason for his wife's loyalty than his own per- 
 sonal popularity and success, now that he no longer pos- 
 sessed that eclat, made him equally capable of the lowest 
 suspicions. He was a dishonored fugitive, broken in for- 
 tune and reputation why should she not desert him ? 
 He had been unfaithful to her from wildness, from caprice, 
 from the effect of those fascinating qualities ; it seemed to 
 him natural that she should be disloyal from more deliberate 
 motives, and he hugged himself with that belief. Yet
 
 160 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 there was enough doubt, enough of haunting suspicion, that 
 he had lost or alienated a powerful affection, to make him 
 thoroughly miserable. He returned his friend's grasp con- 
 vulsively, and buried his face upon his shoulder. But he 
 was not above feeling a certain exultation in the effect of his 
 misery upon the dog-like, unreasoning affection of Patterson, 
 nor could he entirely refrain from slightly posing his afflic- 
 tion before that sympathetic but melancholy man. Sud- 
 denly he raised his head, drew back, and thrust his hand 
 into his bosom with a theatrical gesture. 
 
 " What 's to keep me from killing Poindexter in his 
 tracks ? " he said wildly. 
 
 "Nothin' but his shooting first," returned Patterson, 
 with dismal practicality. " He 's mighty quick, like all 
 them army men. It 's about even, I reckon, that he don't 
 get me first," he added in an ominous voice. 
 
 " No ! " returned Tucker, grasping his hand again. 
 " This is not your affair, Patterson ; leave him to me when 
 I come back." 
 
 " If he ever gets the drop on me, I reckon he won't 
 wait," continued Patterson lugubriously. " He seems to 
 object to my passin' criticism on your wife, as if she was a 
 queen or an angel." 
 
 The blood came to Spencer's cheek, and he turned un- 
 easily to the window. " It 's dark enough now for a start," 
 he said hurriedly, " and if I could get across the mountain 
 without lying over at the summit, it would be a day 
 gained." 
 
 Patterson arose without a word, filled a flask of spirit, 
 handed it to his friend, and silently led the way through 
 the slowly falling rain and the now settled darkness. The 
 mustang was quickly secured and saddled ; a heavy poncho 
 afforded Tucker a disguise as well as a protection from the 
 rain. With a few hurried, disconnected words, and an 
 abstracted air, he once more shook his friend's hand, and
 
 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 161 
 
 issued cautiously from the corral. When out of earshot 
 from the house he put spurs to the mustang, and dashed 
 into a gallop. 
 
 To intersect the mountain road he was obliged to trav- 
 erse part of the highway his wife had walked that after- 
 noon, and to pass within a mile of the casa where she was. 
 Long before he reached that point his eyes were straining 
 the darkness in that direction for some indication of the 
 house which was to him familiar. Becoming now accus- 
 tomed to the even obscurity, less trying to the vision than 
 the alternate light and shadow of cloud or the full glare of 
 the moonlight, he fancied he could distinguish its low walls 
 over the monotonous level. One of those impulses which 
 had so often taken the place of resolution in his character 
 suddenly possessed him to diverge from his course and 
 approach the house. Why, he could not have explained. 
 It was not from any feeling of jealous suspicion or con- 
 templated revenge that had passed with the presence of 
 Patterson ; it was not from any vague lingering sentiment 
 for the woman he had wronged he would have shrunk 
 from meeting her at that moment. But it was full of these 
 and more possibilities by which he might or might not be 
 guided, and was at least a movement towards some vague 
 end, and a distraction from certain thoughts he dared not 
 entertain and could not entirely dismiss. Inconceivable 
 and inexplicable to human reason, it might have been 
 acceptable to the Divine omniscience for its predestined 
 result. 
 
 He left the road at a point where the marsh encroached 
 upon the meadow, familiar to him already as near the spot 
 where he had debarked from the Chinaman's boat the day 
 before. He remembered that the walls of the hacienda 
 were distinctly visible from the tules where he had hidden 
 all day, and he now knew that the figures he had observed 
 near the building, which had deterred his first attempts at
 
 162 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 landing, must have been his wife and his friend. He knew 
 that a long tongue of the slough filled by the rising tide 
 followed the marsh, and lay between him and the hacienda. 
 The sinking of his horse's hoofs in the spongy soil deter- 
 mined its proximity, and he made a detour to the right to 
 avoid it. In doing so, a light suddenly rose above the dis- 
 tant horizon ahead of him, trembled faintly, and then burned 
 with a steady lustre. It was a light at the hacienda. 
 Guiding his horse half abstractedly in this direction, his 
 progress was presently checked by the splashing of the ani- 
 mal's hoofs in the water. But the turf below was firm, and 
 a salt drop that had spattered to his lips told him that it 
 was only the encroaching of the tide in the meadow. With 
 his eyes on the light, he again urged his horse forward. 
 The rain lulled, the clouds began to break, the landscape 
 alternately lightened and grew dark ; the outlines of the 
 crumbling hacienda walls that enshrined the light grew more 
 visible. A strange and dreamy resemblance to the long 
 blue-grass plain before his wife's paternal house, as seen by 
 him during his evening rides to courtship, pressed itself 
 upon him. He remembered, too, that she used to put a 
 light in the window to indicate her presence. Following 
 this retrospect, the moon came boldly out, sparkled upon 
 the overflow of silver at his feet, seemed to show the dark, 
 opaque meadow beyond for a moment, and then disappeared. 
 It was dark now, but the lesser earthly star still shone 
 before him as a guide, and pushing towards it, he passed in 
 the all-embracing shadow. 
 
 rv 
 
 As Mrs. Tucker, erect, white, and rigid, drove away from 
 the tienda, it seemed to her to sink again into the monoto- 
 nous plain, with all its horrible realities. Except that there 
 was now a new and heart-breaking significance to the soli-
 
 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 163 
 
 tude and loneliness of the landscape, all that* had passed 
 might have been a dream. But as the blood came back to 
 her cheek, and little by little her tingling consciousness 
 returned, it seemed as if her life had been the dream, and 
 this last scene the awakening reality. With eyes smarting 
 with the moisture of shame, the scarlet blood at times dye- 
 ing her very neck and temples, she muffled her lowered 
 crest in her shawl, and bent over the reins. Bit by bit she 
 recalled, in Poindexter's mysterious caution and strange 
 allusions, the corroboration of her husband's shame and her 
 own disgrace. This was why she was brought hither the 
 deserted wife, the abandoned confederate ! The mocking 
 glitter of the concave vault above her, scoured by the in- 
 cessant wind, the cold stare of the shining pools beyond, the 
 hard outlines of the Coast Range, and the jarring accom- 
 paniment of her horse's hoofs and rattling buggy-wheels, 
 alternately goaded and distracted her. She found herself 
 repeating " No ! no ! no ! " with the dogged reiteration of 
 fever. She scarcely knew when or how she reached the 
 hacienda. She was only conscious that as she entered the 
 patio the dusky solitude that had before filled her with un- 
 rest now came to her like balm. A benumbing peace 
 seemed to fall from the crumbling walls ; the peace of utter 
 seclusion, isolation, oblivion, death ! Nevertheless, an hour 
 later, when the jingle of spurs and bridle were again heard 
 in the road, she started to her feet with bent brows and a 
 kindling eye, and confronted Captain Poindexter in the 
 corridor. 
 
 " I would not have intruded upon you so soon again," he 
 said gravely, " but I thought I might perhaps spare you 
 a repetition of the scene of this morning. Hear me out, 
 please," he added, with a gentle, half-deprecating gesture, 
 as she lifted the beautiful scorn of her eyes to his. " I 
 have just heard that your neighbor, Don Jose Santierra, of 
 Los Gatos, is on his way to this house. He once claimed
 
 164 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 
 
 this land, aild hated your husband, who bought of the rival 
 claimant, whose grant was confirmed. I tell you this," he 
 added, slightly flushing as Mrs. Tucker turned impatiently 
 away, " only to show you that legally he has no rights, and 
 you need not see him unless you choose. I could not stop 
 his coming without perhaps doing you more harm than 
 good ; but when he does come, my presence under this roof 
 as your legal counsel will enable you to refer him to me." 
 He stopped. She was pacing the corridor with short, im- 
 patient steps, her arms dropped, and her hands clasped 
 rigidly before her. " Have I your permission to stay ? " 
 
 She suddenly stopped in her walk, approached him 
 rapidly, and fixing her eyes on his, said, 
 
 " Do I know all, now everything ? " 
 
 He could only reply that she had not yet told him what 
 she had heard. 
 
 " Well," she said scornfully, " that my husband has 
 been cruelly imposed upon imposed upon by some 
 wretched woman, who has made him sacrifice his property, 
 his friends, his honor everything but me ! " 
 
 " Everything but whom ? " gasped Poindexter. 
 
 " But ME ! " 
 
 Poindexter gazed at the sky, the air, the deserted cor- 
 ridor, the stones of the patio itself, and then at the inex- 
 plicable woman before him. Then he said gravely, " I 
 think you know everything." 
 
 " Then if my husband has left me all he could this 
 property," she went on rapidly, twisting her handkerchief 
 between her fingers, " I can do with it what I like, can't 
 I?" 
 
 " You certainly can." 
 
 " Then sell it," she said with passionate vehemence. 
 " Sell it all ! everything ! And sell these." She darted 
 into her bedroom, and returned with the diamond rings she 
 had torn from her fingers and ears when she entered the
 
 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 165 
 
 house. " Sell them for anything they '11 bring, only sell 
 them at once." 
 
 " But for what ? " asked Poindexter, with demure lips 
 but twinkling eyes. 
 
 " To pay the debts that this this woman has led 
 him into ; to return the money she has stolen ! " she went 
 on rapidly ; " to keep him from sharing infamy ! Can't 
 you understand ? " 
 
 " But, my dear madam," began Poindexter, " even if 
 this could be done " 
 
 "Don't tell me 'if it could' it must be done. Do 
 you think I could sleep under this roof, propped up by the 
 timbers of that ruined tienda ? Do you think I could 
 wear those diamonds again, while that termagant shopwoman 
 can say that her money bought them ? No ! If you are 
 my husband's friend, you will do this for for his sake." 
 She stopped, locked and interlocked her cold fingers before 
 her, and said, hesitating and mechanically, " You meant 
 well, Captain Poindexter, in bringing me here, I know ! 
 You must not think that I blame you for it, or for the mis- 
 erable result of it that you have just witnessed. But if I 
 have gained anything by it, for God's sake let me reap it 
 quickly, that I may give it to these people and go ! I have 
 a friend who can aid me to get to my husband or to my 
 home in Kentucky, where Spencer will yet find me, I 
 know. I want nothing more." She stopped again. With 
 another woman the pause would have been one of tears. 
 But she kept her head above the flood that filled her heart, 
 and the clear eyes fixed upon Poindexter, albeit pained, 
 were undimmed. 
 
 " But this would require time," said Poindexter, with a 
 smile of compassionate explanation ; " you could not sell 
 now, nobody would buy. You are safe to hold this prop- 
 erty while you are in actual possession, but you are not 
 strong enough to guarantee it to another. There may still
 
 166 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 be litigation ; your husband has other creditors than these peo- 
 ple you have talked with. But while nobody could oust you 
 
 the wife who would have the sympathies of judge and jury 
 
 it might be a different case with any one who derived 
 title from you. Any purchaser would know that you could 
 not sell, or if you did, it would be at a ridiculous sacrifice." 
 
 She listened to him abstractedly, walked to the end of 
 the corridor, returned, and without looking up, said, 
 
 " I suppose you know her ? " 
 
 "I beg your pardon ? " 
 
 " This woman. You have seen her ? " 
 
 " Never, to my knowledge." 
 
 "And you are his friend ! That 's strange." She raised 
 her eyes to his. " Well," she continued impatiently, " who 
 is she ? and what is she ? You know that surely." 
 
 " I know no more of her than what I have said," said 
 Poindexter. " She is a notorious woman." 
 
 The swift color came to Mrs. Tucker's face as if the 
 epithet had been applied to herself. " I suppose," she said 
 in a dry voice, as if she were asking a business question, 
 but with an eye that showed her rising anger, "I suppose 
 there is some law by which creatures of this kind can be 
 followed and brought to justice some law that would 
 keep innocent people from suffering for their crimes ? " 
 
 " I am afraid," said Poindexter, " that arresting her 
 "would hardly help these people over in the tienda." 
 
 "I am not speaking of them," responded Mrs. Tucker, 
 with a sudden sublime contempt for the people whose 
 cause she had espoused ; " I am talking of my husband." 
 
 Poindexter bit his lip. " You 'd hardly think of bring- 
 ing back the strongest witness against him," he said bluntly. 
 
 Mrs. Tucker dropped her eyes and was silent. A sudden 
 shame suffused Poindexter' s cheek ; he felt as if he had 
 struck that woman a blow. " I beg your pardon," he said 
 hastily; "I am talking like a lawyer to a lawyer." He
 
 A BLUE GKASS PENELOPE 167 
 
 would have taken any other woman by the hand in the 
 honest fullness of his apology, but something restrained 
 him here. He only looked down gently on her lowered 
 lashes, and repeated his question if he should remain dur- 
 ing the coming interview with Don Josd. " I must beg 
 you to determine quickly," he added, " for I already hear 
 him entering the gate." 
 
 " Stay," said Mrs. Tucker, as the ringing of spurs and 
 clatter of hoofs came from the corral. "One moment." 
 She looked up suddenly, and said, " How long had he 
 known her ? " But before he could reply there was a 
 step in the doorway, and the figure of Don Jose Santierra 
 emerged from the archway. 
 
 He was a man slightly past middle age, fair, and well 
 shaven, wearing a black broadcloth serape, the deeply em- 
 broidered opening of which formed a collar of silver rays 
 around his neck, while a row of silver buttons down the 
 side seams of his riding-trousers, and silver spurs completed 
 his singular equipment. Mrs. Tucker's swift feminine 
 glance took in these details, as well as the deep salutation, 
 more formal than the exuberant frontier politeness she was 
 accustomed to, with which he greeted her. It was enough 
 to arrest her first impulse to retreat. She hesitated and 
 stopped as Poindexter stepped forward, partly interposing 
 between them, acknowledging Don Jose's distant recogni- 
 tion of himself with an ironical accession of his usual hu- 
 morous tolerance. The Spaniard did not seem to notice it, 
 but remained gravely silent before Mrs. Tucker, gazing at 
 her with an expression of intent and unconscious absorption. 
 
 " You are quite right, Don Jose," said Poindexter, with 
 ironical concern, " it is Mrs. Tucker. Your eyes do not 
 deceive you. She will be glad to do the honors of her 
 house," he continued, with a simulation of appealing to 
 her, " unless you visit her on business, when I need not 
 say I shall be only too happy to attend you, as before."
 
 168 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 Don Jose, with a slight lifting of the eyebrows, allowed 
 himself to become conscious of the lawyer's meaning. " It 
 is not of business that I come to kiss the senora's hand 
 to-day," he replied, with a melancholy softness ; " it is as 
 her neighbor, to put myself at her disposition. Ah ! what 
 have we here fit for a lady ? " he continued, raising his 
 eyes in deprecation of the surroundings ; " a house of no- 
 thing, a place of winds and dry bones, without refreshments, 
 or satisfaction, or delicacy. The senora will not refuse to 
 make us proud this day to send her of that which we have 
 in our poor home at Los Gatos, to make her more complete. 
 Of what shall it be ? Let her make choice. Or if she 
 would commemorate this day by accepting of our hospital- 
 ity at Los Gatos, until she shall arrange herself the more 
 to receive us here, we shall have too much honor." 
 
 " The sefiora would only find it the more difficult to 
 return to this humble roof again, after once leaving it for 
 Don Jose''s hospitality," said Poindexter, with a demure 
 glance at Mrs. Tucker. But the innuendo seemed to lapse 
 equally unheeded by his fair client and the stranger. Rais- 
 ing her eyes with a certain timid dignity which Don Josd's 
 presence seemed to have called out, she addressed herself to 
 him. 
 
 " You are very kind and considerate, Mister Santierra, 
 and I thank you. I know that my husband " she let the 
 clear beauty of her translucent eyes rest full on both men 
 t( would thank you too. But I shall not be here long enough 
 to accept your kindness in this house nor in your own. I 
 have but one desire and object now. It is to dispose of this 
 property, and indeed all I possess, to pay the debt of my 
 husband. It is in your power, perhaps, to help me. I am 
 told that you wish to possess Los Cuervos," she went on, 
 equally oblivious of the consciousness that appeared in Don 
 Josd's face, and a humorous perplexity on the brow of 
 Poindexter. " If you can arrange it with Mr. Poindexter,
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 169 
 
 you will find me a liberal vendor. That much you can do, 
 and I know you will believe I shall be grateful. You can 
 do no more, unless it be to say to your friends that Mrs. 
 Belle Tucker remains here only for that purpose, and to 
 carry out what she knows to be the wishes of her husband." 
 She paused, bent her pretty crest, dropped a quaint curtsey 
 to the superior age, the silver braid, and the gentlemanly 
 bearing of Don Josd, and with the passing sunshine of a 
 smile disappeared from the corridor. 
 
 The two men remained silent for a moment, Don Jose 
 gazing abstractedly on the door through which she had van- 
 ished, until Poindexter, with a return of his tolerant smile, 
 said, " You have heard the views of Mrs. Tucker. You 
 know the situation as well as she does." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; possibly better." 
 
 Poindexter darted a quick glance at the grave, sallow face 
 of Don Jose", but, detecting no unusual significance in his 
 manner, continued, " As you see, she leaves this matter in 
 my hands. Let us talk like business men. Have you any 
 idea of purchasing this property ? " 
 
 " Of purchasing ? ah, no." 
 
 Poindexter bent his brows, but quickly relaxed them with 
 a smile of humorous forgiveness. "If you have any other 
 idea, Don Jos6, I ought to warn you, as Mrs. Tucker's law- 
 yer, that she is in legal possession here, and that nothing 
 but her own act can change that position." 
 
 " Ah, so." 
 
 Irritated at the shrug which accompanied this, Poindexter 
 continued haughtily, " If I am to understand, you have no- 
 thing to say " 
 
 " To say, ah, yes, possibly. But " he glanced toward 
 the door of Mrs. Tucker's room " not here." He stopped, 
 appeared to recall himself, and, with an apologetic smile and 
 a studied but graceful gesture of invitation, he motioned to 
 the gateway, and said, " Will you ride ? "
 
 170 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 
 
 " What can the fellow be up to ? " muttered Poindexter, 
 as with an assenting nod he proceeded to remount his horse. 
 " If he was n't an old hidalgo, I 'd mistrust him. No mat- 
 ter ! here goes ! " 
 
 The don also remounted his half-hroken mustang; they 
 proceeded in solemn silence through the corral, and side by 
 side emerged on the open plain. Poindexter glanced round ; 
 no other being was in sight. It was not until the lonely 
 hacienda had also sunk behind them that Don Jose broke 
 the silence. 
 
 " You say just now we shall speak as business men. I 
 say no, Don Marco ; I will not. I shall speak, we shall 
 speak, as gentlemen." 
 
 " Go on," said Poindexter, who was beginning to be 
 amused. 
 
 " I say just now I will not purchase the rancho from the 
 senora. And why ? Look you, Don Marco," he reined 
 in his horse, thrust his hand under his serape, and drew out 
 a folded document, " this is why." 
 
 With a smile, Poindexter took the paper from his hand 
 and opened it. But the smile faded from his lips as he 
 read. With blazing eyes he spurred his horse beside the 
 Spaniard, almost unseating him, and said sternly, " What 
 does this mean ? " 
 
 " What does it mean ? " repeated Don Jose, with equally 
 flashing eyes ; " I '11 tell you. It means that your client, 
 this man Spencer Tucker, is a Judas, a traitor ! It means 
 that he gave Los Cuervos to his mistress a year ago, and 
 that she sold it to me to me, you hear ! me, Jose San- 
 tierra, the day before she left ! It means that the coyote 
 of a Spencer, the thief, who bought these lands of a thief 
 and gave them to a thief, has tricked you all. Look," he 
 said, rising in his saddle, holding the paper like a baton, 
 and denning with a sweep of his arm the whole level plain ; 
 " all these lands were once mine they are mine again to-
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 171 
 
 day. Do I want to purchase Los Cuervos ? you ask, for 
 you will speak of the business. Well, listen. I have pur- 
 chased Los Cuervos, and here is the deed." 
 
 " But it has never been recorded," said Poindexter, with 
 a carelessness he was far f*)m feeling. 
 
 " Of a verity, no. Do you wish that I should record 
 it ? " asked Don Jose, with a return of his simple gravity. 
 
 Poindexter bit his lip. " You said we were to talk like 
 gentlemen," he returned. " Do you think you have come 
 into possession of this alleged deed like a gentleman ? " 
 
 Don Jose shrugged his shoulders. " I found it tossed 
 in the lap of a harlot. I bought it for a song. Eh, what 
 would you ? " 
 
 " Would you sell it again for a song ? " asked Poindexter. 
 
 " Ah ! what is this ? " said Don Josd, lifting his iron- 
 gray brows ; " but a moment ago we would sell everything, 
 for any money. Now we would buy. Is it so ? " 
 
 "One moment, Don Jose," said Poindexter, with a bale- 
 ful light in his dark eyes. " Do I understand that you are 
 the ally of Spencer Tucker and his mistress, that you intend 
 to turn this doubly betrayed wife from the only roof she 
 has to cover her ? " 
 
 " Ah, I comprehend not. You heard her say she wished 
 to go. Perhaps it may please me to distribute largess to 
 these cattle yonder, I do not say no. More she does not 
 ask. But you, Don Marco, of whom are you advocate ? 
 You abandon your client's mistress for the wife, is it so ? " 
 
 " What I may do you will learn hereafter," said Poin- 
 dexter, who had regained his composure, suddenly reining 
 up his horse. " As our paths seem likely to diverge, they 
 had better begin now. Good-morning." 
 
 " Patience, my friend, patience ! Ah, blessed St. An- 
 thony, what these Americans are ! Listen. For what you 
 shall do, I do not inquire. The question is to me what I " 
 he emphasized the pronoun by tapping himself on the
 
 172 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 breast "I, Jose Santierra, will do. Well, I shall tell 
 you. To-day, nothing. To-morrow, nothing. For a week, 
 for a month, nothing ! After, we shall see." 
 
 Poindexter paused thoughtfully. " Will you give your 
 word, Don Jose, that you will not press the claim for a 
 month ? " 
 
 " Truly, on one condition. Observe ! I do not ask you 
 for an equal promise, that you will not take this time to 
 defend yourself." He shrugged his shoulder. "No! It 
 is only this. You shall promise that during that time the 
 Senora Tucker shall remain ignorant of this document." 
 
 Poindexter hesitated a moment. " I promise," he said 
 at last. 
 
 " Good. Adios, Don Marco." 
 
 " Adios, Don Jose*." 
 
 The Spaniard put spurs to his mustang and galloped off 
 in the direction of Los Gatos. The lawyer remained for 
 a moment gazing on his retreating but victorious figure. 
 For the first time the old look of humorous toleration with 
 which Mr. Poindexter was in the habit of regarding all hu- 
 man infirmity gave way to something like bitterness. " I 
 might have guessed it," he said, with a slight rise of color. 
 "He's an old fool; and she well, perhaps it's all the 
 better for her ! " He glanced backwards almost tenderly in 
 the direction of Los Cuervos, and then turned his head to- 
 wards the embarcadero. 
 
 As the afternoon wore on, a creaking, antiquated ox-cart 
 arrived at Los Cuervos, bearing several articles of furniture 
 and some tasteful ornaments from Los Gatos, at the same 
 time that a young Mexican girl mysteriously appeared in 
 the kitchen, as a temporary assistant to the decrepit Concha. 
 These were both clearly attributable to Don Jose, whose visit 
 was not so remote but that these delicate attentions might 
 have been already projected before Mrs. Tucker had declined 
 them, and she could not, without marked discourtesy, return
 
 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 173 
 
 them now. She did not wish to seem discourteous; she 
 would like to have been more civil to this old gentleman, 
 who still retained the evidences of a picturesque and decor- 
 ous past, and a repose so different from the life that" was 
 perplexing her. Reflecting that if he bought the estate 
 these things would be ready to his hand, and with a 
 woman's instinct recognizing their value in setting off the 
 house to other purchasers' eyes, she took a pleasure in taste- 
 fully arranging them, and even found herself speculating 
 how she might have enjoyed them herself had she been 
 able to keep possession of the property. After all, it would 
 not have been so lonely if refined and gentle neighbors, like 
 this old man, would have sympathized with her ; she had 
 an instinctive feeling that, in their own hopeless decay and 
 hereditary unfitness for this new civilization, they would 
 have been more tolerant of her husband's failure than his 
 own kind. She could not believe that Don Jose really hated 
 her husband for buying of the successful claimant, as there 
 was no other legal title. Allowing herself to become inter- 
 ested in the guileless gossip of the new handmaiden, proud 
 of her broken English, she was drawn into a sympathy with 
 the grave simplicity of Don Jose's character, a relic of that 
 true nobility which placed this descendant of the Castilians 
 and the daughter of a free people on the same level. 
 
 In this way the second day of her occupancy of Los 
 Cuervos closed, with dumb clouds along the gray horizon, 
 and the paroxysms of hysterical wind growing fainter and 
 fainter outside the walls ; with the moon rising after night- 
 fall, and losing itself in silent and mysterious confidences 
 with drifting scud. She went to bed early, but woke past 
 midnight, hearing, as she thought, her own name called. 
 The impression was so strong upon her that she rose, and, 
 hastily enwrapping herself, went to the dark embrasures of 
 the oven-shaped windows and looked out. The dwarfed 
 oak beside the window was still dropping from a past
 
 174 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 shower, but the level waste of marsh and meadow beyond 
 seemed to advance and recede with the coming and going of 
 the moon. Again she heard her name called, and this time 
 in accents so strangely familiar that with a slight cry she ran 
 into the corridor, crossed the patio, and reached the open gate. 
 The darkness that had, even in this brief interval, again 
 fallen upon the prospect, she tried in vain to pierce with eye 
 and voice. A blank silence followed. Then the veil was 
 suddenly withdrawn ; the vast plain, stretching from the 
 mountain to the sea, shone as clearly as in the light of day ; 
 the moving current of the channel glittered like black pearls, 
 the stagnant pools like molten lead ; but not a sign of life 
 nor motion broke the monotony of the broad expanse. She 
 must have surely dreamed it. A chill wind drove her back 
 to the house again ; she entered her bedroom, and in half 
 an hour she was in a peaceful sleep. 
 
 The two men kept their secret. Mr. Poindexter con- 
 vinced Mrs. Tucker that the sale of Los Cuervos could not 
 be effected until the notoriety of her husband's flight had 
 been fairly forgotten, and she was forced to accept her fate. 
 The sale of her diamonds, which seemed to her to have real- 
 ized a singularly extravagant sum, enabled her to quietly 
 reinstate the Pattersons in the tienda and to discharge in full 
 her husband's liabilities to the rancheros and his humbler 
 retainers. 
 
 Meanwhile the winter rains had ceased. It seemed to 
 her as if the clouds had suddenly one night struck their 
 white tents and stolen away, leaving the unvanquished sun 
 to mount the vacant sky the next morning alone, and 
 possess it thenceforward unchallenged. One afternoon she 
 thought the long sad waste before her window had caught
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 175 
 
 some tint of grayer color from the sunset ; a week later she 
 found it a blazing landscape of poppies, broken here and 
 there by blue lagoons of lupine, by pools of daisies, by 
 banks of dog-roses, by broad outlying shores of dandelions 
 that scattered their lavish gold to the foot of the hills, where 
 the green billows of wild oats carried it on and upwards 
 to the darker crests of pines. For two months she was 
 dazzled and bewildered with color. She had never before 
 been face to face with this spendthrift Californian Flora, in 
 her virgin wastefulness, her more than goddess-like prodi- 
 gality. The teeming earth seemed to quicken and throb 
 beneath her feet ; the few circuits of a plow around the out- 
 lying corral were enough to call out a jungle growth of giant 
 grain that almost hid the low walls of the hacienda. In 
 this glorious fecundity of the earth, in this joyous renewal 
 of life and color, in this opulent youth and freshness of soil 
 and sky, it alone remained, the dead and sterile Past, left 
 in the midst of buoyant rejuvenescence and resurrection, like 
 an empty churchyard skull upturned on the springing turf. 
 Its bronzed adobe walls mocked the green vine that em- 
 braced them, the crumbling dust of its courtyard remained 
 ungerminating and unfruitful ; to the thousand stirring 
 voices without, its dry lips alone remained mute, unrespon- 
 sive, and unchanged. 
 
 During this time Don Jose had become a frequent vis- 
 itor at Los Cuervos, bringing with him at first his niece 
 and sister in a stately precision of politeness that was not 
 lost on the proud Blue Grass stranger. She returned their 
 visit at Los Gatos, and there made the formal acquaintance 
 of Don Jose's grandmother, a lady who still regarded the 
 decrepit Concha as a giddy muchacha, and who herself glit- 
 tered as with the phosphorescence of refined decay. Through 
 this circumstance she learned that Don Jose was not yet 
 fifty, and that his gravity of manner and sedateness was 
 more the result of fastidious isolation and temperament than
 
 176 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 
 
 years. She could not tell why the information gave her a feel- 
 ing of annoyance, but it caused her to regret the absence of 
 Poindexter, and to wonder, also somewhat nervously, why 
 he had lately avoided her presence. The thought that he 
 might be doing so from a recollection of the innuendoes of 
 Mrs. Patterson caused a little tremor of indignation in her 
 pulses. " As if " but she did not finish the sentence 
 even to herself, and her eyes filled with bitter tears. 
 
 Yet she had thought of the husband who had so cruelly 
 wronged her less feverishly, less impatiently, than before. 
 For she thought she loved him now the more deeply, be- 
 cause, although she was not reconciled to his absence, it 
 seemed to keep alive the memory of what he had been 
 before his one wild act separated them. She had never 
 seen the reflection of another woman's eyes in his ; the past 
 contained no haunting recollection of waning or alienated 
 affection ; she could meet him again, and, clasping her arms 
 around him, awaken as if from a troubled dream without 
 reproach or explanation. Her strong belief in this made 
 her patient ; she no longer sought to know the particulars 
 of his flight, and never dreamed that her passive submission 
 to his absence was partly due to a fear that something in 
 his actual presence at that moment would have destroyed 
 that belief forever. 
 
 For this reason the delicate reticence of the people at 
 Los Gatos, and their seclusion from the world which knew 
 of her husband's fault, had made her encourage the visits 
 of Don Jose, until from the instinct already alluded to she 
 one day summoned Poindexter to Los Cuervos, on the day 
 that Don Jose usually called. But to her surprise the two 
 men met more or less awkwardly and coldly, and her tact 
 as hostess was tried to the utmost to keep their evident 
 antagonism from being too apparent. The effort to recon- 
 cile their mutual discontent, and some other feeling she did 
 not quite understand, produced a nervous excitement which.
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 177 
 
 called the blood to her cheek and gave a dangerous bril- 
 liancy to her eyes, two circumstances not unnoticed nor un- 
 appreciated by her two guests. But instead of reuniting 
 them, the prettier Mrs. Tucker became, the more distant 
 and reserved grew the men, until Don Jose rose before his 
 usual hour, and with more than usual ceremoniousness 
 departed. 
 
 " Then my business does not seem to be with him," 
 said Poindexter, with quiet coolness, as Mrs. Tucker turned 
 her somewhat mystified face towards him. "Or have you 
 anything to say to me about him in private ? " 
 
 " I am sure I don't know what you both mean," she re- 
 turned with a slight tremor of voice. " I had no idea you 
 were not on good terms. I thought you were ! It 's very 
 awkward." Without coquetry and unconsciously she raised 
 her blue eyes under her lids until the clear pupils coyly 
 and softly hid themselves in the corners of the brown 
 lashes, and added, " You have both been so kind to 
 me." 
 
 " Perhaps that is the reason," said Poindexter gravely. 
 But Mrs. Tucker refused to accept the suggestion with 
 equal gravity, and began to laugh. The laugh, which was 
 at first frank, spontaneous, and almost child-like, was be- 
 coming hysterical and nervous as she went on, until it was 
 suddenly checked by Poindexter. 
 
 " I have had no difficulties with Don Jose* Santierra," 
 he said, somewhat coldly ignoring her hilarity, " but per- 
 haps he is not inclined to be as polite to the friend of the 
 husband as he is to the wife." 
 
 " Mr. Poindexter ! " said Mrs. Tucker quickly, her face 
 becoming pale again. 
 
 " I beg your pardon ! " said Poindexter, flushing, " but " 
 
 " You want to say," she interrupted coolly, " that you 
 are not friends, I see. Is that the reason why you have 
 avoided this house ? " she continued gently.
 
 178 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 " I thought I could be of more service to you elsewhere," 
 he replied evasively. " I have been lately following up a 
 certain clue rather closely. I think I am on the track of a 
 confidante of of that woman." 
 
 A quick shadow passed over Mrs. Tucker's face. " In- 
 deed ! " she said coldly. " Then I am to believe that you 
 prefer to spend your leisure moments in looking after that 
 creature to calling here ? " 
 
 Poindexter was stupefied. Was this the woman who 
 only four months ago was almost vindictively eager to pur- 
 sue her husband's paramour ! There could be but one 
 answer to it Don Jose ! Four months ago he would 
 have smiled compassionately at it from his cynical preemi- 
 nence. Now he managed with difficulty to stifle the bitter- 
 ness of his reply. 
 
 " If you do not wish the inquiry carried on," he began, 
 " of course " 
 
 " I ? What does it matter to me ? " she said coolly. 
 " Do as you please." 
 
 Nevertheless, half an hour later, as he was leaving, she 
 said, with a certain hesitating timidity, " Do not leave me 
 so much alone here, and let that woman go." 
 
 This was not the only unlooked-for sequel to her inno- 
 cent desire to propitiate her best friends. Don Jose did 
 not call again upon his usual day, but in his place came 
 Dona Clara, his younger sister. When Mrs. Tucker had 
 politely asked after the absent Don Jose", Dona Clara wound 
 her swarthy arms around the fair American's waist and 
 replied, " But why did you send for the abogado Poindexter 
 when my brother called ? " 
 
 " But Captain Poindexter calls as one of my friends," 
 said the amazed Mrs. Tucker. " He is a gentleman, and 
 has been a soldier and an officer," she added with some 
 warmth. 
 
 " Ah, yes, a soldier of the law, what you call an oficial
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 179 
 
 de policia, a chief of gendarmes, my sister, but not a gentle- 
 man, a camarero to protect a lady." 
 
 Mrs. Tucker would have uttered a hasty reply, but the 
 perfect and good-natured simplicity of Dona Clara withheld 
 her. Nevertheless, she treated Don Jose with a certain 
 reserve at their next meeting, until it brought the simple- 
 minded Castilian so dangerously near the point of demand- 
 ing an explanation which implied too much that she was 
 obliged to restore him temporarily to his old footing. 
 Meantime she had a brilliant idea. She would write to 
 Calhoun Weaver, whom she had avoided since that memora- 
 ble day. She would say she wished to consult him. He 
 would come to Los Cuervos ; he might suggest something 
 to lighten this weary waiting ; at least she would show them 
 all that she had still old friends. Yet she did not dream of 
 returning to her Blue Grass home ; her parents had died 
 since she left ; she shrank from the thought of dragging her 
 ruined life before the hopeful youth of her girlhood's com- 
 panions. 
 
 Mr. Calhoun Weaver arrived promptly, ostentatiously, 
 oracularly, and cordially, but a little coarsely. He had 
 did she remember ? expected this from the first. 
 Spencer had lost his head through vanity, and had at- 
 tempted too much. It required foresight and firmness, 
 as he himself who had lately made successful " combi- 
 nations " which she might perhaps have heard of well 
 knew. But Spencer had got the "big head." "As to 
 that woman a devilish handsome woman, too ! well, 
 everybody knew that Spencer always had a weakness that 
 way, and he would say But if she did n't care to hear 
 any more about her well, perhaps she was right. That 
 was the best way to take it." Sitting before her, prosper- 
 ous, weak, egotistical, incompetent, unavailable, and yet 
 filled with a vague kindliness of intent, Mrs. Tucker loathed 
 him. A sickening perception of her own weakness in send-
 
 180 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 ing for him, a new and aching sense of her utter isolation 
 and helplessness, seemed to paralyze her. 
 
 " Nat'rally you feel bad," he continued, with the large 
 air of a profound student of human nature. " Nat'rally, 
 nat'rally you 're kept in an uncomfortable state, not know- 
 ing jist how you stand. There ain't but one thing to do. 
 Jist rise up, quiet like, and get a divorce agin Spencer. 
 Hold on ! There ain't a judge or jury in California that 
 would n't give it to you right off the nail, without asking 
 questions. Why, you 'd get it by default if you wanted 
 to ; you 'd just have to walk over the course ! And then, 
 Belle," he drew his chair still nearer her, " when you 've 
 settled down again well ! I don't mind renewing that 
 offer I once made ye, before Spencer ever came round ye 
 I don't mind, Belle, I swear I don't ! Honest Injin ! 
 I 'm in earnest, there 's my hand." 
 
 Mrs. Tucker's reply has not been recorded. Enough 
 that half an hour later Mr. Weaver appeared in the courtyard 
 with traces of tears on his foolish face, a broken falsetto 
 voice, and other evidence of mental and moral disturbance. 
 His cordiality and oracular predisposition remained suffi- 
 ciently to enable him to suggest the magical words " Blue 
 Grass" mysteriously to Concha, with an indication of his 
 hand to the erect figure of her pale mistress in the door- 
 way, who waved to him a silent but half-compassionate 
 farewell. 
 
 At about this time a slight change in her manner was 
 noticed by the few who saw her more frequently. Her 
 apparently invincible girlishness of spirit had given way to 
 a certain matronly seriousness. She applied herself to her 
 household cares and the improvement of the hacienda with 
 a new sense of duty and a settled earnestness, until by de- 
 grees she wrought into it not only her instinctive delicacy 
 and taste, but part of her own individuality. Even the 
 rude rancheros and tradesmen who were permitted to enter
 
 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 181 
 
 the walls in the exercise of their calling began to speak 
 mysteriously of the beauty of this garden of the almarjal. 
 She went out but seldom, and then, accompanied by one or 
 the other of her female servants, in long drives on unfre- 
 quented roads. On Sundays she sometimes drove to the 
 half-ruined mission church of Santa Inez, and hid herself, 
 during mass, in the dim monastic shadows of the choir. 
 Gradually the poorer people whom she met in these jour- 
 neys began to show an almost devotional reverence for 
 her, stopping in the roads with uncovered heads for her 
 to pass, or making way for her in the tienda or plaza of the 
 wretched town with dumb courtesy. She began to feel a 
 strange sense of widowhood, that, while it at times brought 
 tears to her eyes, was not without a certain tender solace. 
 In the sympathy and simpleness of this impulse she went 
 as far as to revive the mourning she had worn for her 
 parents, but with such a fatal accenting of her beauty, and 
 dangerous misinterpreting of her condition to eligible bach- 
 elors strange to the country, that she was obliged to put it 
 off again. Her reserved and dignified manner caused others 
 to mistake her nationality for that of the Santierras, and in 
 " Dona Bella " the simple Mrs. Tucker was for a while for- 
 gotten. At times she even forgot it herself. Accustomed 
 now almost entirely to the accents of another language and 
 the features of another race, she would sit for hours in the 
 corridor, whose massive bronzed inclosure even her tasteful 
 care could only make an embowered mausoleum of the Past, 
 or gaze abstractedly from the dark embrasures of her win- 
 dows across the stretching almarjal to the shining lagoon 
 beyond that terminated the estuary. She had a strange 
 fondness for this tranquil mirror, which under sun or stars 
 always retained the passive reflex of the sky above, and 
 seemed to rest her weary eyes. She had objected to one 
 of the plans projected by Poindexter to redeem the land and 
 deepen the water at the embarcadero, as it would have
 
 182 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 drained the lagoon, and the lawyer had postponed the im- 
 provement to gratify her fancy. So she kept it through 
 the long summer unchanged save by the shadows of passing 
 wings or the lazy files of sleeping sea-fowl. 
 
 On one of these afternoons she noticed a slowly moving 
 carriage leave the highroad and cross the almarjal skirting 
 the edge of the lagoon. If it contained visitors for Los 
 Cuervos, they had evidently taken a shorter cut without 
 waiting to go on to the regular road which intersected the 
 highway at right angles a mile farther on. It was with 
 some sense of annoyance and irritation that she watched 
 the trespass, and finally saw the vehicle approach the 
 house. A few moments later the servant informed her 
 that Mr. Patterson would like to see her alone. When 
 she entered the corridor, which in the dry season served as 
 a reception hall, she was surprised to see that Patterson 
 was not alone. Near him stood a well-dressed, handsome 
 woman, gazing about her with good-humored admiration of 
 Mrs. Tucker's taste and ingenuity. 
 
 " It don't look much like it did two years ago," said the 
 stranger cheerfully. " You 've improved it wonderfully." 
 
 Stiffening slightly, Mrs. Tucker turned inquiringly to 
 Mr. Patterson. But that gentleman's usual profound mel- 
 ancholy appeared to be intensified by the hilarity of his 
 companion. He only sighed deeply, and rubbed his leg with 
 the brim of his hat in gloomy abstraction. 
 
 " Well ! go on, then," said the woman, laughing and 
 nudging him. " Go on introduce me, can't you ? 
 Don't stand there like a tombstone. You won't ? Well, 
 I '11 introduce myself." She laughed again, and then, with 
 an excellent imitation of Patterson's lugubrious accents, 
 said, " Mr. Spencer Tucker's wife that is, allow me to in- 
 troduce you to Mr. Spencer Tucker's sweetheart that was ! 
 Hold on ! I said that was. For true as I stand here, 
 ma'am, and I reckon I would n't stand here if it was n't
 
 A BLUE GKASS PENELOPE 183 
 
 true, I have n't set eyes on him since the day he left 
 you." 
 
 " It 's the gospel truth, every word," said Patterson, 
 stirred into a sudden activity by Mrs. Tucker's white and 
 rigid face. " It 's the frozen truth, and I kin prove it. 
 For I kin swear that when that there young woman was 
 sailin' outer the Golden Gate, Spencer Tucker was in my 
 bar-room ; I kin swear that I fed him, lickered him, give 
 him a hoss, and set him in his road to Monterey that very 
 night." 
 
 " Then, where is he now ? " said Mrs. Tucker, suddenly 
 facing them. 
 
 They looked at each other, and then looked at Mrs. 
 Tucker. Then both together replied slowly and in perfect 
 unison, " That 's what we want to know." 
 They seemed so satisfied with this effect that they as delib- 
 erately repeated, " Yes, that 's what we want 
 to know." 
 
 Between the shock of meeting the partner of her hus- 
 band's guilt and the unexpected revelation to her inexperi- 
 ence, that in suggestion and appearance there was nothing 
 beyond the recollection of that guilt that was really shocking 
 in the woman between the extravagant extremes of hope 
 and fear suggested by their words, there was something so 
 grotesquely absurd in the melodramatic chorus that she with 
 difficulty suppressed an hysterical laugh. 
 
 " That 's the way to take it," said the woman, putting 
 her own good-humored interpretation upon Mrs. Tucker's 
 expression. " Now, look here ! I '11 tell you all about it." 
 She carefully selected the most comfortable chair, and sit- 
 ting down, lightly crossed her hands in her lap. " Well, I 
 left here on the 13th of last January on the ship Argo, 
 calculating that your husband would join the ship just in- 
 side the Heads. That was our arrangement ; but if anything 
 happened to prevent him, he was to join me at Acapulco.
 
 184 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 Well ! he did n't come aboard, and we sailed without him. 
 But it appears now he did attempt to join the ship, but 
 his boat was capsized. There now, don't be alarmed ! he 
 was n't drowned, as Patterson can swear to no, catch 
 him ! not a hair of him was hurt. But / / was bundled 
 off to the end of the earth in Mexico alone, without a cent 
 to bless me. For true as you live, that hound of a captain, 
 when he found, as he thought, that Spencer was nabbed, he 
 just confiscated all his trunks and valuables, and left me in 
 the lurch. If I had not met a man down there that offered 
 to marry me and brought me here, I might have died there, 
 I reckon. But I did, and here I am. I went down there 
 as your husband's sweetheart ; I 've come back as the wife 
 of an honest man, and I reckon it 's about square ! " 
 
 There was something so startlingly frank, so hopelessly 
 self-satisfied, so contagiously good-humored in the woman's 
 perfect moral unconsciousness, that even if Mrs. Tucker 
 had been less preoccupied her resentment would have 
 abated. But her eyes were fixed on the gloomy face of 
 Patterson, who was beginning to unlock the sepulchres of 
 his memory and disinter his deeply buried thoughts. 
 
 " You kin bet your whole pile on what this Mrs. Cap- 
 ting Baxter ez used to be French Inez of New Orleans 
 hez told ye. Ye kin take everything she 's onloaded. 
 And it J s only doin' the square thing to her to say, she 
 hain't done it out o' no cussedness, but just to satisfy her- 
 self, now she 's a married woman and past such foolishness. 
 But that ain't neither here nor there. The gist of the 
 whole matter is that Spencer Tucker was at the tienda the 
 day after she sailed and after his boat capsized." He then 
 gave a detailed account of the interview, with the unneces- 
 sary but truthful minutiae of his class, adding to the par- 
 ticulars already known that the following week he visited 
 the Summit House, and was surprised to find that Spencer 
 had never been there } nor had he ever sailed from Monterey.
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 185 
 
 " But why was this not told to me before ? " said Mrs. 
 Tucker suddenly. " Why not at the time ? Why," she 
 demanded almost fiercely, turning from the one to the 
 other, " has this been kept from me ? " 
 
 " I '11 tell ye why," said Patterson, sinking with crushed 
 submission into a chair. " When I found he was n't where 
 he ought to be, I got to lookin' elsewhere. I knew the 
 track of the hoss I lent him by a loose shoe. I examined, 
 and found he had turned off the highroad somewhere be- 
 yond the lagoon, jist as if he was makin' a bee-line here." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Tucker breathlessly. 
 
 " Well," said Patterson, with the resigned tone of an 
 accustomed martyr, " mebbe I 'm a God-forsaken idiot, but 
 I reckon he did come yer. And mebbe I 'm that much of 
 a habitooal lunatic but, thinking so, I calkilated you'd 
 know it without tellin'." 
 
 With their eyes fixed upon her, Mrs. Tucker felt the 
 quick blood rush to her cheeks, although she knew not 
 why. But they were apparently satisfied with her igno- 
 rance, for Patterson resumed, yet more gloomily : 
 
 " Then if he was n't hidin' here beknownst to you, he 
 must have changed his mind agin, and got away by the em- 
 barcadero. The only thing wantin' to prove that idea is to 
 know how he got a boat, and what he did with the hoss. 
 And thar's one more idea, and ez that can't be proved," 
 continued Patterson, sinking his voice still lower, " mebbe 
 it 's accordin' to God's laws." 
 
 Unsympathetic to her as the speaker had always been 
 and still was, Mrs. Tucker felt a vague chill creep over 
 her, that seemed to be the result of his manner more than 
 his words. " And that idea is " she suggested with pale 
 lips. 
 
 " It 's this ! Fust, I don't say it means much to any- 
 body but me. I 've heard of these warnings afore now, ez 
 comin' only to folks ez hear them for themselves alone, and
 
 186 A BLUE GKASS PENELOPE 
 
 I reckon I kin stand it, if it 's the will o' God. The idea 
 is then that Spencer Tucker was drownded in that 
 boat ; the idea is " his voice was almost lost in a hoarse 
 whisper " that it was no living man that kern to me that 
 night, but a spirit that kem out of the darkness and went 
 back into it ! No eye saw him but mine ; no ears heard 
 him but mine. I reckon it were n't intended it should." 
 He paused, and passed the flap of his hat across his eyes. 
 " The pie, you '11 say, is agin it," he continued in the same 
 tone of voice ; " the whiskey is agin it ; a few cuss words 
 that dropped from him, accidental like, may have been agin 
 it. All the same they mout have been only the little signs 
 and tokens that it was him." 
 
 But Mrs. Baxter's ready laugh somewhat rudely dispelled 
 the infection of Patterson's gloom. " I reckon the only 
 spirit was that which you and Spencer consumed," she said 
 cheerfully. " I don't wonder you 're a little mixed. Like 
 as not you 've misunderstood his plans." 
 
 Patterson shook his head. " He '11 turn up yet, alive and 
 kicking ! Like as not, then, Poindexter knows where he is 
 all the time." 
 
 " Impossible ! He would have told me," said Mrs. 
 Tucker quickly. 
 
 Mrs. Baxter looked at Patterson without speaking. Pat- 
 terson replied by a long lugubrious whistle. 
 
 "I don't understand you," said Mrs. Tucker, drawing 
 back with cold dignity. 
 
 " You don't ? " returned Mrs. Baxter. " Bless your in- 
 nocent heart ! Why was he so keen to hunt me up at first, 
 shadowing my friends and all that, and why has he dropped 
 it now he knows I 'm here, if he did n't know where Spencer 
 was ? " 
 
 " I can explain that," interrupted Mrs. Tucker hastily, 
 with a blush of confusion. " That is I " 
 
 " Then mebbe you kin explain too," broke in Patterson
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 187 
 
 with gloomy significance, " why he has bought up most of 
 Spencer's debts himself, and perhaps you 're satisfied it is n't 
 to hold the whip hand of him and keep him from coming 
 back openly. P'r'aps you know why he 's movin' heaven 
 and earth to make Don Jose 7 Santierra sell the ranch, and 
 why the don don't see it all." 
 
 " Don Jose sell Los Cuervos ! Buy it, you mean ? " 
 said Mrs. Tucker. " / offered to sell it to him." 
 
 Patterson arose from the chair, looked despairingly around 
 him, passed his hand sadly across his forehead, and said : 
 " It 's come ! I knew it would. It 's the warning ! It 's 
 suthing betwixt jim-jams and doddering idjiocy. Here I'd 
 hev been willin' to swear that Mrs. Baxter here told me she 
 had sold this yer ranch nearly two years ago to Don Jose, 
 and now you " 
 
 " Stop ! " said Mrs. Tucker, in a voice that chilled them. 
 
 She was standing upright and rigid, as if stricken to 
 stone. " I command you to tell me what this means ! " 
 she said, turning only her blazing eyes upon the woman. 
 
 Even the ready smile faded from Mrs. Baxter's lips as 
 she replied hesitatingly and submissively : " I thought you 
 knew already that Spencer had given this ranch to me. I 
 sold it to Don Jose to get the money for us to go away with. 
 It was Spencer's idea " 
 
 " You lie ! " said Mrs. Tucker. 
 
 There was a dead silence. The wrathful blood that had 
 quickly mounted to Mrs. Baxter's cheek, to Patterson's ad- 
 ditional bewilderment, faded as quickly. She did not lift her 
 eyes again to Mrs. Tucker's, but, slowly raising herself from 
 her seat, said, " I wish to God I did lie ; but it 's true. 
 And it 's true that I never touched a cent of the money, 
 but gave it all to him ! " She laid her hand on Patterson's 
 arm, and said, " Come ! let us go," and led him a few steps 
 toward the gateway. But here Patterson paused, and again 
 passed his hand over his melancholy brow. The necessity of
 
 188 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 coherently and logically closing the conversation impressed 
 itself upon his darkening mind. " Then you don't happen 
 to have heard anything of Spencer ? " he said sadly, and 
 vanished with Mrs. Baxter through the gate. 
 
 Left alone to herself, Mrs. Tucker raised her hands ahove 
 her head with a little cry, interlocked her rigid fingers, and 
 slowly brought her palms down upon her upturned face and 
 eyes, pressing hard as if to crush out all light and sense of 
 life hefore her. She stood thus for a moment motionless 
 and silent, with the rising wind whispering without and 
 flecking her white morning dress with gusty shadows from 
 the arbor. Then, with closed eyes, dropping her hands 
 to her breast, still pressing hard, she slowly passed them 
 down the shapely contours of her figure to the waist, and 
 with another cry cast them off as if she were stripping 
 herself of some loathsome garment. Then she walked 
 quickly to the gateway, looked out, returned to the cor- 
 ridor, unloosening and taking off her wedding-ring from 
 her finger as she walked. Here she paused, then slowly 
 and deliberately rearranged the chairs and adjusted the 
 gay-colored rugs that draped them, and quietly reentered 
 her chamber. 
 
 Two days afterwards the sweating steed of Captain Poin- 
 dexter was turned loose in the corral, and a moment later 
 the captain entered the corridor. Handing a letter to the 
 decrepit Concha, who seemed to be utterly disorganized by 
 its contents and the few curt words with which it was de- 
 livered, he gazed silently upon the vacant bower, still fresh 
 and redolent with the delicacy and perfume of its graceful 
 occupant, until his dark eyes filled with unaccustomed 
 moisture. But his reverie was interrupted by the sound 
 of jingling spurs without, and the old humor struggled 
 back into his eyes as Don Jose impetuously entered. The 
 Spaniard started back, but instantly recovered himself.
 
 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 189 
 
 " So, I find you here. Ah ! it is well ! " he said pas- 
 sionately, producing a letter from his bosom. " Look ! 
 Do you call this honor ? Look how you keep your com- 
 pact ! " 
 
 Poindexter coolly took the letter. It contained a few 
 words of gentle dignity from Mrs. Tucker, informing Don 
 Josd that she had only that instant learned of his just 
 claims upon Los Cuervos, tendering him her gratitude for 
 his delicate intentions, but pointing out with respectful 
 firmness that he must know that a moment's further accep- 
 tance of his courtesy was impossible. 
 
 " She has gained this knowledge from no word of mine," 
 said Poindexter calmly. " Eight or wrong, I have kept 
 my promise to you. I have as much reason to accuse you 
 of betraying my secret in this," he added coldly, as he 
 took another letter from his pocket, and handed it to Don 
 Jose. 
 
 It seemed briefer and colder, but was neither. It re- 
 minded Poindexter that as he had again deceived her she 
 must take the government of her affairs in her own hands 
 henceforth. She abandoned all the furniture and improve- 
 ments she had put in Los Cuervos to him, to whom she 
 now knew she was indebted for them. She could not thank 
 him for what his habitual generosity impelled him to do for 
 any woman, but she could forgive him for misunderstand- 
 ing her like any other woman, perhaps she should say, like 
 a child. When he received this she would be already on 
 her way to her old home in Kentucky, where she still 
 hoped to be able by her own efforts to amass enough to 
 discharge her obligations to him. 
 
 " She does not speak of her husband, this woman," said 
 Don Jose 7 , scanning Poindexter' s face. " It is possible she 
 rejoins him, eh ? " 
 
 " Perhaps in one way she has never left him, Don Jos6," 
 said Poindexter, with grave significance.
 
 190 A BLUE GRASS PENELOPE 
 
 Don Jose's face flushed, but he returned carelessly, 
 " And the rancho naturally you will not buy it now ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, I shall abide by my offer," said Poin- 
 dexter quietly. 
 
 Don Jose* eyed him narrowly, and then said, " Ah, we 
 shall consider of it." 
 
 He did consider it, and accepted the offer. With the full 
 control of the land, Captain Poindexter's improvements, so 
 indefinitely postponed, were actively pushed forward. The 
 thick walls of the hacienda were the first to melt away 
 before them ; the low lines of corral were effaced, and the 
 early breath of the summer trade-winds swept uninterrupt- 
 edly across the now leveled plain to the embarcadero, where 
 a newer structure arose. A more vivid green alone marked 
 the spot where the crumbling adobe walls of the casa had 
 returned to the parent soil that gave it. The channel was 
 deepened, the lagoon was drained, until one evening the 
 magic mirror that had so long reflected the weary waiting 
 of the Blue Grass Penelope lay dull, dead, lustreless, an 
 opaque quagmire of noisome corruption and decay to be put 
 away from the sight of man forever. On this spot the 
 crows, the titular tenants of Los Cuervos, assembled in 
 tumultuous congress, coming and going in mysterious clouds, 
 or laboring in thick and writhing masses, as if they were 
 continuing the work of improvement begun by human 
 agency. So well had they done the work that by the end 
 of a week only a few scattered white objects remained glit- 
 tering on the surface of the quickly drying soil. But they 
 were the bones of the missing outcast, Spencer Tucker ! 
 
 The same spring a breath of war swept over a foul, 
 decaying quagmire of the whole land, before which such 
 passing deeds as these were blown as vapor. It called men 
 of all rank and condition to battle for a nation's life, and 
 among the first to respond were those into whose boyish
 
 A BLUE GEASS PENELOPE 191 
 
 hands had been placed the nation's honor. It returned the 
 epaulets to Poindexter's shoulder with the addition of a 
 double star, carried him triumphantly to the front, and left 
 him, at the end of a summer's day and a hard- won fight, 
 sorely wounded, at the door of a Blue Grass farmhouse. 
 And the woman who sought him out and ministered to his 
 wants said timidly, as she left her hand in his, " I told you 
 I should live to repay you."
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAE MOUNTAIN 
 
 I 
 
 THERE was little doubt that the Lone Star claim was 
 " played out." Not dug out, worked out, washed out, but 
 played out. For two years its five sanguine proprietors 
 had gone through the various stages of mining enthusiasm ; 
 had prospected and planned, dug and doubted. They had 
 borrowed money with hearty but unredeeming frankness, 
 established a credit with unselfish abnegation of all respon- 
 sibility, and had borne the disappointment of their creditors 
 with a cheerful resignation which only the consciousness of 
 some deep Compensating Future could give. Giving little 
 else, however, a singular dissatisfaction obtained with the 
 traders, and, being accompanied with a reluctance to make 
 further advances, at last touched the gentle stoicism of the 
 proprietors themselves. The youthful enthusiasm which had 
 at first lifted the most ineffectual trial, the most useless essay, 
 to the plane of actual achievement died out, leaving them 
 only the dull, prosaic record of half-finished ditches, purpose- 
 less shafts, untenable pits, abandoned engines, and meaning- 
 less disruptions of the soil upon the Lone Star claim, and 
 empty flour sacks and pork barrels in the Lone Star cabin. 
 
 They had borne their poverty, if that term could be ap- 
 plied to a light renunciation of all superfluities in food, dress, 
 or ornament, ameliorated by the gentle depredations already 
 alluded to, with unassuming levity. More than that: having 
 segregated themselves from their fellow miners of Red Gulch, 
 and entered upon the possession of the little manzanita-thick- 
 eted valley five miles away, the failure of their enterprise
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAE MOUNTAIN 193 
 
 had assumed in their eyes only the vague significance of the 
 decline and fall of a general community, and to that extent 
 relieved them of individual responsibility. It was easier 
 for them to admit that the Lone Star claim was " played out " 
 than confess to a personal bankruptcy. Moreover, they still 
 retained the sacred right of criticism of government, and rose 
 superior in their private opinions to their own collective wis- 
 dom. Each one experienced a grateful sense of the entire 
 responsibility of the other four in the fate of their enterprise. 
 
 On December 24, 1863, a gentle rain was still falling over 
 the length and breadth of the Lone Star claim. It had been 
 falling for several days, had already called a faint spring 
 color to the wan landscape, repairing with tender touches 
 the ravages wrought by the proprietors, or charitably cover- 
 ing their faults. The ragged seams in gulch and canon lost 
 their harsh outlines, a thin green mantle faintly clothed the 
 torn and abraded hillside. A few weeks more, and a veil 
 of forgetfulness would be drawn over the feeble failures of 
 the Lone Star claim. The charming derelicts themselves, 
 listening to the raindrops on the roof of their little cabin, 
 gazed philosophically from the open door, and accepted the 
 prospect as a moral discharge from their obligations. Four 
 of the five partners were present. The Eight and Left 
 Bowers, Union Mills, and the Judge. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to say that not one of these titles 
 was the genuine name of its possessor. The Eight and 
 Left Bowers were two brothers ; their sobriquets, a cheerful 
 adaptation from the favorite game of euchre, expressing their 
 relative value in the camp. The mere fact that Union Mills 
 had at one time patched his trousers with an old flour sack 
 legibly bearing that brand of its fabrication, was a tempting 
 baptismal suggestion that the other partners could not forego. 
 The Judge, a singularly inequitable Missourian, with no 
 knowledge whatever of the law, was an inspiration of gratu- 
 itous irony.
 
 194 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 Union Mills, who had been for some time sitting pla- 
 cidly on the threshold with one leg exposed to the rain, 
 from a sheer indolent inability to change his position, finally 
 withdrew that weather-beaten member, and stood up. The 
 movement more or less deranged the attitudes of the other 
 partners, and was received with cynical disfavor. It was 
 somewhat remarkable that, although generally giving the 
 appearance of healthy youth and perfect physical condition, 
 they one and all simulated the decrepitude of age and inva- 
 lidism, and after limping about for a few moments, settled 
 back again upon their bunks and stools in their former posi- 
 tions. The Left Bower lazily replaced a bandage that he 
 had worn around his ankle for weeks without any apparent 
 necessity, and the Judge scrutinized with tender solicitude 
 the faded cicatrix of a scratch upon his arm. A passive hy- 
 pochondria, born of their isolation, was the last ludicrously 
 pathetic touch of their situation. 
 
 The immediate cause of this commotion felt the necessity 
 of an explanation. 
 
 " It would have been just as easy for you to have stayed 
 outside with your business leg, instead of dragging it into 
 private life in that obtrusive way," retorted the Eight 
 Bower ; " but that exhaustive effort is n't going to fill the 
 pork barrel. The grocery man at Dalton says What 's 
 that he said ? " he appealed lazily to the Judge. 
 
 " Said he reckoned the Lone Star was about played out, 
 and he did n't want any more in his thank you ! " re- 
 peated the Judge with a mechanical effort of memory utterly 
 devoid of personal or present interest. 
 
 " I always suspected that man, after Grimshaw begun to 
 deal with him," said the Left Bower. " They 're just mean 
 enough to join hands against us." It was a fixed belief of 
 the Lone Star partners that they were pursued by personal 
 enmities. 
 
 " More than likely those new strangers over in the Fork
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 195 
 
 have been paying cash and filled him up with conceit," said 
 Union Mills, trying to dry his leg by alternately beating it 
 or rubbing it against the cabin wall. " Once begin wrong 
 with that kind of snipe, and you drag everybody down with 
 you." 
 
 This vague conclusion was received with dead silence. 
 Everybody had become interested in the speaker's peculiar 
 method of drying his leg, to the exclusion of the previous 
 topic. A few offered criticism, no one assistance. 
 
 " Who did the grocery man say that to ? " asked the 
 Eight Bower, finally returning to the question. 
 
 " The Old Man," answered the Judge. 
 
 " Of course," ejaculated the Eight Bower sarcastically. 
 
 " Of course," echoed the other partners together. "That 's 
 like him. The Old Man all over ! " 
 
 It did not appear exactly what was like the Old Man, or 
 why it was like him, but generally that he alone was respon- 
 sible for the grocery man's defection. It was put more con- 
 cisely by Union Mills. 
 
 " That comes of letting him go there ! It 's just a fair 
 provocation to any man to have the Old Man sent to him. 
 They can't, sorter, restrain themselves at him. He's 
 enough to spoil the credit of the Eothschilds." 
 
 " That 's so," chimed in the Judge. " And look at his 
 prospecting. Why, he was out two nights last week, all 
 night, prospecting in the moonlight for blind leads, just out 
 of sheer foolishness." 
 
 " It was quite enough for me," broke in the Left Bower, 
 " when the other day you remember when he pro- 
 posed to us white men to settle down to plain ground sluic- 
 ing, making ' grub ' wages just like any Chinaman. It just 
 showed his idea of the Lone Star claim." 
 
 " Well, I never said it afore," added Union Mills, " but 
 when that one of the Mattison boys came over here to 
 examine the claim with an eye to purchasing it was the
 
 196 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAK MOUNTAIN 
 
 Old Man that took the conceit out of him. He just as good 
 as admitted that a lot of work had got to be done afore any 
 pay ore could he realized. Never even asked him over to 
 the shanty here to jine us in a friendly game ; just kept 
 him, so to speak, to himself. And naturally the Mattisons 
 didn't see it." 
 
 A silence followed, broken only by the rain monotonously 
 falling on the roof, and occasionally through the broad adobe 
 chimney, where it provoked a retaliating hiss and splutter 
 from the dying embers of the hearth. The Eight Bower, 
 with a sudden access of energy, drew the empty barrel 
 before him, and taking a pack of well-worn cards from his 
 pocket, began to make a " solitaire " upon the lid. The 
 others gazed at him with languid interest. 
 
 " Makin' it for anythin' ? " asked Mills. 
 
 The Right Bower nodded. 
 
 The Judge and Left Bower, who were partly lying in 
 their respective bunks, sat up to get a better view of the 
 game. Union Mills slowly disengaged himself from the 
 wall, and leaned over the " solitaire " player. The Eight 
 Bower turned the last card in a pause of almost thrilling 
 suspense, and clapped it down on the lid with fateful em- 
 phasis. 
 
 " It went ! " said the Judge in a voice of hushed respect. 
 " What did you make it for ? " he almost whispered. 
 
 " To know if we 'd make the break we talked about and 
 vamose the ranch. It 's the fifth time to-day," continued 
 the Eight Bower, in a voice of gloomy significance. " And 
 it went agin bad cards too." 
 
 "I ain't superstitious," said the Judge, with awe and 
 fatuity beaming from every line of his credulous face, 
 " but it 's fly in' in the face oi Providence to go agin such 
 signs as that." 
 
 " Make it again, to see if the Old Man must go," sug- 
 gested the Left Bower.
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 197 
 
 The suggestion was received with favor, the three men 
 gathering breathlessly around the player. Again the fateful 
 cards were shuffled deliberately, placed in their mysterious 
 combination, with the same ominous result. Yet every- 
 body seemed to breathe more freely, as if relieved from 
 some responsibility, the Judge accepting this manifest ex- 
 pression of Providence with resigned self-righteousness. 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen," resumed the Left Bower serenely, 
 as if a calm legal decision had just been recorded, "we 
 must not let any foolishness or sentiment get mixed up 
 with this thing, but look at it like business men. The 
 only sensible move is to get up and get out of the camp." 
 
 " And the Old Man ? " queried the Judge. 
 
 " The Old Man Hush ! he 'a coming." 
 
 The doorway was darkened by a slight lissome shadow. 
 It was the absent partner, otherwise known as the "Old 
 Man." Need it be added that he was a boy of nineteen, 
 with a slight down just clothing his upper lip ! 
 
 " The creek is up over the ford, and I had to ' shin ' up 
 a willow on the bank and swing myself across," he said, 
 with a quick, frank laugh ; " but all the same, boys, it 's going 
 to clear up in about an hour, you bet. It 's breaking away 
 over Bald Mountain, and there 's a sun-flash on a bit of 
 snow on Lone Peak. Look ! you can see it from here. 
 It 's for all the world like Noah's dove just landed on Mount 
 Ararat. It's a good omen." 
 
 From sheer force of habit the men had momentarily 
 brightened up at the Old Man's entrance. But the unblush- 
 ing exhibition of degrading superstition shown in the last 
 sentence recalled their just severity. They exchanged mean- 
 ing glances. Union Mills uttered hopelessly to himself : 
 " Hell 's full of such omens." 
 
 Too occupied with his subject to notice this ominous re- 
 ception, the Old Man continued : "I reckon I struck a fresh 
 lead in the new grocery man at the Crossing. He says he '11
 
 198 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 let the Judge have a pair of boots on credit, but he can't 
 send them over here ; and considering that the Judge has 
 got to try them anyway, it don't seem to be asking too much 
 for the Judge to go over there. He says he '11 give us a 
 barrel of pork and a bag of flour if we '11 give him the right 
 of using our tail-race and clean out the lower end of it." 
 
 " It 's the work of a Chinaman, and a four days' job," 
 broke in the Left Bower. 
 
 "It took one white man only two hours to clean out 
 a third of it," retorted the Old Man triumphantly, " for 1 
 pitched in at once with a pick he let me have on credit, and 
 did that amount of work this morning, and told him the 
 rest of you boys would finish it this afternoon." 
 
 A slight gesture from the Right Bower checked an angry 
 exclamation from the Left. The Old Man did not notice 
 either, but, knitting his smooth young brow in a paternally 
 reflective fashion, went on : " You '11 have to get a new pair 
 of trousers, Mills, but as he does n't keep clothing, we '11 
 have to get some canvas and cut you out a pair. I traded 
 off the beans he let me have for some tobacco for the Eight 
 Bower at the other shop, and got them to throw in a new 
 pack of cards. These are about played out. We'll be 
 wanting some brushwood for the fire ; there 's a heap in the 
 hollow. Who 's going to bring it in ? It 's the Judge's 
 turn, is n't it ? Why, what 's the matter with you all ? " 
 
 The restraint and evident uneasiness of his companions 
 had at last touched him. He turned his frank young eyes 
 upon them ; they glanced helplessly at each other. Yet his 
 first concern was for them, his first instinct paternal and 
 protecting. He ran his eyes quickly over them ; they were 
 all there, and apparently in their usual condition. " Any- 
 thing wrong with the claim ? " he suggested. 
 
 Without looking at him the Eight Bower rose, leaned 
 against the open door with his hands behind him and his 
 face towards the landscape, and said, apparently to the dis-
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 199 
 
 tant prospect : " The claim 's played out, the partnership 's 
 played out, and the sooner we skedaddle out of this the bet- 
 ter. If," he added, turning to the Old Man, " if you want 
 to stay, if you want to do Chinaman's work at Chinaman's 
 wages, if you want to hang on to the charity of the traders 
 at the Crossing, you can do it, and enjoy the prospects and 
 the Noah's doves alone. But we 're calculatin' to step out 
 of it." 
 
 " But I have n't said I wanted to do it alone" protested 
 the Old Man with a gesture of bewilderment. 
 
 " If these are your general ideas of the partnership," 
 continued the Eight Bower, clinging to the established hypo- 
 thesis of the other partners for support, " it ain't ours, and 
 the only way we can prove it is to stop the foolishness right 
 here. We calculated to dissolve the partnership and strike 
 out for ourselves elsewhere. You 're no longer responsible 
 for us, nor we for you. And we reckon it 's the square 
 thing to leave you the claim and the cabin and all it con- 
 tains. To prevent any trouble with the traders, we've 
 drawn up a paper here " 
 
 " With a bonus of fifty thousand dollars each down, and the 
 rest to be settled on my children," interrupted the Old Man, 
 with a half-uneasy laugh. " Of course. But " he stopped 
 suddenly, the blood dropped from his fresh cheek, and he 
 again glanced quickly round the group. " I don't think 
 I I quite sabe, boys," he added, with a slight tremor of 
 voice and lip. " If it 's a conundrum, ask me an easier 
 one." 
 
 Any lingering doubt he might have had of their meaning 
 was dispelled by the Judge. " It 's about the softest thing 
 you kin drop into, Old Man," he said confidentially ; " if / 
 had n't promised the other boys to go with them, and if I 
 did n't need the best medical advice in Sacramento for my 
 lungs, I 'd just enjoy staying with you." 
 
 " It gives a sorter freedom to a young fellow like you,
 
 200 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 Old Man, like goin' into the world on your own capital, 
 that every Californian boy has n't got," said Union Mills 
 patronizingly. 
 
 "Of course it's rather hard papers on us, you know, 
 givin' up everything, so to speak ; but it 's for your good, 
 and we ain't goin' back on you," said the Left Bower ; " are 
 we, boys ? " 
 
 The color had returned to the Old Man's face a little 
 more quickly and freely than usual. He picked up the hat 
 he had cast down, put it on carefully over his brown curls, 
 drew the flap down on the side towards his companions, 
 and put his hands in his pockets. " All right," he said, 
 in a slightly altered voice. " When do you go ? " 
 
 " To-day," answered the Left Bower. " We calculate to 
 take a moonlight pasear over to the Cross-Eoads and meet 
 the down stage at about twelve to-night. There 's plenty 
 of time yet," he added, with a slight laugh ; " it 's only 
 three o'clock now." 
 
 There was a dead silence. Even the rain withheld its 
 continuous patter ; a dumb, gray film covered the ashes of 
 the hushed hearth. For the first time the Eight Bower ex- 
 hibited some slight embarrassment. 
 
 " I reckon it 's held up for a spell," he said, ostentatiously 
 examining the weather, " and we might as well take a run 
 round the claim to see if we 've forgotten nothing. Of 
 course, we '11 be back again," he added hastily, without 
 looking at the Old Man, " before we go, you know." 
 
 The others began to look for their hats, but so awk- 
 wardly and with such evident preoccupation of mind that 
 it was not at first discovered that the Judge had his already 
 on. This raised a laugh, as did also a clumsy stumble of 
 Union Mills against the pork barrel, although that gentle- 
 man took refuge from his confusion and secured a decent 
 retreat by a gross exaggeration of his lameness, as he limped 
 after the Eight Bower. The Judge whistled feebly. The
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAB MOUNTAIN 201 
 
 Left Bower, in a more ambitions effort to impart a certain 
 gayety to his exit, stopped on the threshold and said, as if in 
 arch confidence to his companions, " Darned if the Old Man 
 don't look two inches higher since he became a proprietor," 
 laughed patronizingly, and vanished. 
 
 If the newly made proprietor had increased in stature, he 
 had not otherwise changed his demeanor. He remained in 
 the same attitude until the last figure disappeared behind 
 the fringe of buckeye that hid the distant highway. Then 
 he walked slowly to the fireplace, and, leaning against the 
 chimney, kicked the dying embers together with his foot. 
 Something dropped and spattered in the film of hot ashes. 
 Surely the rain had not yet ceased ! 
 
 His high color had already fled except for a spot on 
 either cheek-bone that lent a brightness to his eyes. He 
 glanced around the cabin. It looked familiar and yet 
 strange. Kather, it looked strange because still familiar, 
 and therefore incongruous with the new atmosphere that 
 surrounded it discordant with the echo of their last meet- 
 ing, and painfully accenting the change. There were the 
 four "bunks," or sleeping berths, of his companions, each 
 still bearing some traces of the individuality of its late 
 occupant with a dumb loyalty that seemed to make their 
 light-hearted defection monstrous. In the dead ashes of 
 the Judge's pipe, scattered on his shelf, still lived his old 
 fire ; in the whittled and carved edges of the Left Bower's 
 bunk still were the memories of bygone days of delicious 
 indolence ; in the bullet-holes clustered round a knot of one 
 of the beams there was still the record of the Right Bower's 
 old-time skill and practice ; in the few engravings of female 
 loveliness stuck upon each headboard there were the proofs 
 of their old extravagant devotion all a mute protest to 
 the change. 
 
 He remembered how, a fatherless, truant schoolboy, he 
 had drifted into their adventurous, nomadic life, itself a life
 
 202 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 of grown-up truancy like his own, and became one of that 
 gypsy family. How they had taken the place of relations 
 and household in his boyish fancy, filling it with the un- 
 substantial pageantry of a child's play at grown-up exist- 
 ence, he knew only too well. But how, from being a pet 
 and protege, he had gradually and unconsciously asserted 
 his own individuality and taken upon his younger shoulders 
 not only a poet's keen appreciation of that life, but its 
 actual responsibilities and half-childish burdens, he never 
 suspected. He had fondly believed that he was a neophyte 
 in their ways, a novice in their charming faith and indolent 
 creed, and they had encouraged it ; now their renunciation 
 of that faith could only be an excuse for a renunciation of 
 him. The poetry that had for two years invested the ma- 
 terial and sometimes even mean details of their existence 
 was too much a part of himself to be lightly dispelled. 
 The lesson of those ingenuous moralists failed, as such les- 
 sons are apt to fail ; their discipline provoked but did not 
 subdue ; a rising indignation, stirred by a sense of injury, 
 mounted to his cheek and eyes. It was slow to come, but 
 was none the less violent that it had been preceded by the 
 benumbing shock of shame and pride. 
 
 I hope I shall not prejudice the reader's sympathies if 
 my duty as a simple chronicler compels me to state, there- 
 fore, that the sober second thought of this gentle poet was 
 to burn down the cabin on the spot with all its contents. 
 This yielded to a milder counsel waiting for the return 
 of the party, challenging the Eight Bower, a duel to the 
 death, perhaps himself the victim, with the crushing ex- 
 planation in extremis, " It seems we are one too many. 
 No matter ; it is settled now. Farewell ! " Dimly remem- 
 bering, however, that there was something of this in the 
 last well-worn novel they had read together, and that his 
 antagonist might recognize it, or even worse, anticipate it 
 himself, the idea was quickly rejected. Besides, the op-
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 203 
 
 portunity for an apotheosis of self-sacrifice was past. No- 
 thing remained now but to refuse the proffered bribe of 
 claim, and cabin by letter, for he must not wait their return. 
 He tore a leaf from a blotted diary, begun and abandoned 
 long since, and essayed to write. Scrawl after scrawl was 
 torn up, until his fury had cooled down to a frigid third 
 personality. "Mr. John Ford regrets to inform his late 
 partners that their tender of house, of furniture," however, 
 seemed too inconsistent with the pork-barrel table he was 
 writing on ; a more eloquent renunciation of their offer be- 
 came frivolous and idiotic from a caricature of Union Mills, 
 label and all, that appeared suddenly on the other side of 
 the leaf; and when he at last indited a satisfactory and 
 impassioned exposition of his feelings, the legible addendum 
 of " Oh, ain't you glad you 're out of the wilderness ! " 
 the forgotten first line of a popular song, which no scratch- 
 ing would erase seemed too like an ironical postscript to 
 be thought of for a moment. He threw aside his pen, and 
 cast the discordant record of past foolish pastime into the 
 dead ashes of the hearth. 
 
 How quiet it was ! With the cessation of the rain the 
 wind too had gone down, and scarcely a breath of air came 
 through the open door. He walked to the threshold, and 
 gazed on the hushed prospect. In this listless attitude he 
 was faintly conscious of a distant reverberation, a mere phan- 
 tom of sound, perhaps the explosion of a distant blast in 
 the hills, that left the silence more marked and oppres- 
 sive. As he turned again into the cabin a change seemed 
 to have come over it. It already looked old and decayed. 
 The loneliness of years of desertion seemed to have taken 
 possession of it ; the atmosphere of dry rot was in the beams 
 and rafters. To his excited fancy the few disordered blank- 
 ets and articles of clothing seemed dropping to pieces ; in 
 one of the bunks there was a hideous resemblance in the 
 longitudinal heap of clothing to a withered and mummied
 
 204 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 corpse. So it might look in after-years when some passing 
 stranger But he stopped. A dread of the place was be- 
 ginning to creep over him ; a dread of the days to come, 
 when the monotonous sunshine should lay bare the lone- 
 liness of these walls ; the long, long days of endless blue 
 and cloudless, overhanging solitude ; summer days when the 
 wearying, incessant trade-winds should sing around that 
 empty shell and voice its desolation. He gathered together 
 hastily a few articles that were especially his own rather 
 that the free communion of the camp, from indifference or 
 accident, had left wholly to him. He hesitated for a mo- 
 ment over his rifle, but, scrupulous in his wounded pride, 
 turned away and left the familiar weapon that in the dark 
 days had so often provided the dinner or breakfast of the 
 little household. Candor compels me to state that his equip- 
 ment was not large nor eminently practical. His scant pack 
 was a light weight for even his young shoulders, but I fear 
 he thought more of getting away from the Past than pro- 
 viding for the Future. 
 
 With this vague but sole purpose he left the cabin, and 
 almost mechanically turned his steps towards the creek he 
 had crossed that morning. He knew that by this route he 
 would avoid meeting his companions ; its difficulties and 
 circuitousness would exercise his feverish limbs and give 
 him time for reflection. He had determined to leave the 
 claim, but whence he had not yet considered. He reached 
 the bank of the creek where he had stood two hours before ; 
 it seemed to him two years. He looked curiously at his 
 reflection in one of the broad pools of overflow, and fancied 
 he looked older. He watched the rush and outset of the 
 turbid current hurrying to meet the South Fork, and to 
 eventually lose itself in the yellow Sacramento. Even in 
 his preoccupation he was impressed with a likeness to him- 
 self and his companions in this flood that had burst its 
 peaceful boundaries. In the drifting fragments of one of
 
 He looked curiously at his reflection.
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 205 
 
 their forgotten flumes washed from the bank, he fancied he 
 saw an omen of the disintegration and decay of the Lone 
 Star claim. 
 
 The strange hush in the air that he had noticed before 
 a calm so inconsistent with that hour and the season as 
 to seem portentous became more marked in contrast to 
 the feverish rush of the turbulent watercourse. A few 
 clouds lazily huddled in the west apparently had gone to 
 rest with the sun on beds of somnolent poppies. There 
 was a gleam as of golden water everywhere along the hori- 
 zon, washing out the cold snow-peaks, and drowning even 
 the rising moon. The creek caught it here and there, until, 
 in grim irony, it seemed to bear their broken sluice-boxes 
 and useless engines on the very Pactolian stream they had 
 been hopefully created to direct and carry. But by some 
 peculiar trick of the atmosphere the perfect plenitude of 
 that golden sunset glory was lavished on the rugged sides 
 and tangled crest of the Lone Star Mountain. That isolated 
 peak, the landmark of their claim, the gaunt monument of 
 their folly, transfigured in the evening splendor, kept its 
 radiance unquenched long after the glow had fallen from 
 the encompassing skies ; and when at last the rising moon, 
 step by step, put out the fires along the winding valley and 
 plains, and crept up the bosky sides of the canon, the van- 
 ishing sunset was lost only to reappear as a golden crown. 
 
 The eyes of the young man were fixed upon it with more 
 than a momentary picturesque interest. It had been the 
 favorite ground of his prospecting exploits, its lowest flank 
 had been scarred in the old enthusiastic days with hydraulic 
 engines, or pierced with shafts, but its central position in 
 the claim and its superior height had always given it a com- 
 manding view of the extent of their valley and its approaches, 
 and it was this practical preeminence that alone attracted 
 him at that moment. He knew that from its crest he would 
 be able to distinguish the figures of his companions, as they
 
 206 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 crossed the valley near the cabin, in the growing moonlight. 
 Thus he could avoid encountering them on his way to the 
 highroad, and yet see them, perhaps, for the last time. Even 
 in his sense of injury there was a strange satisfaction in the 
 thought. 
 
 The ascent was toilsome, hut familiar. All along the dim 
 trail he was accompanied by gentler memories of the past, 
 that seemed, like the faint odor of spiced leaves and fra- 
 grant grasses wet with the rain and crushed beneath his 
 ascending tread, to exhale the sweeter perfume in his effort 
 to subdue or rise above them. There was the thicket of 
 manzanita, where they had broken noonday bread together ; 
 here was the rock beside their maiden shafts, where they 
 had poured a wild libation in boyish enthusiasm of success ; 
 and here the ledge where their first flag, a red shirt heroic- 
 ally sacrificed, was displayed from a long-handled shovel 
 to the gaze of admirers below. When he at last reached 
 the summit, the mysterious hush was still in the air, as if 
 in breathless sympathy with his expedition. In the west, 
 the plain was faintly illuminated, but disclosed no moving 
 figures. He turned towards the rising moon, and moved 
 slowly to the eastern edge. Suddenly he stopped. Another 
 step would have been his last ! He stood upon the crum- 
 bling edge of a precipice. A landslip had taken place on 
 the eastern flank, leaving the gaunt ribs and fleshless bones 
 of Lone Star Mountain bare in the moonlight. He under- 
 stood now the strange rumble and reverberation he had 
 heard ; he understood now the strange hush of bird and 
 beast in brake and thicket ! 
 
 Although a single rapid glance convinced him that the 
 slide had taken place in an xinfrequented part of the moun- 
 tain, above an inaccessible canon, and reflection assured him 
 his companions could not have reached that distance when 
 it took place, a feverish impulse led him to descend a few 
 rods in the track of the avalanche. The frequent recur-
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 207 
 
 rence of outcrop and angle made this comparatively easy. 
 Here he called aloud ; the feeble echo of his own voice 
 seemed only a dull impertinence to the significant silence. 
 He turned to reascend ; the furrowed flank of the mountain 
 before him lay full in the moonlight. To his excited fancy 
 a dozen luminous starlike points in the rocky crevices 
 started into life as he faced them. Throwing his arm over 
 the ledge above him, he supported himself for a moment by 
 what appeared to be a projection of the solid rock. It 
 trembled slightly. As he raised himself to its level, his 
 heart stopped beating. If was simply a fragment detached 
 from the outcrop, lying loosely on the ledge but upholding 
 him by its own weight only. He examined it with trem- 
 bling fingers ; the encumbering soil fell from its sides and 
 left its smoothed and worn protuberances glistening in the 
 moonlight. It was virgin gold ! 
 
 Looking back upon that moment afterwards, he remem- 
 bered that he was not dazed, dazzled, or startled. It did 
 not come to him as a discovery or an accident, a stroke of 
 chance or a caprice of fortune. He saw it all in that su- 
 preme moment ; Nature had worked out their poor deduc- 
 tion. What their feeble engines had essayed spasmodically 
 and helplessly against the curtain of soil that hid the trea- 
 sure, the elements had achieved with mightier but more 
 patient forces. The slow sapping of the winter rains had 
 loosened the soil from the auriferous rock, even while the 
 swollen stream was carrying their impotent and shattered 
 engines to the sea. What mattered that his single arm 
 could not lift the treasure he had found ; what mattered 
 that to unfix those glittering stars would still tax both skill 
 and patience ! The work was done, the goal was reached ! 
 Even his boyish impatience was content with that. He 
 rose slowly to his feet, unstrapped his long-handled shovel 
 from his back, secured it in the crevice, and quietly regained 
 the summit.
 
 208 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 It was all his own ! His own by right of discovery 
 under the law of the land, and without accepting a favor 
 from them. He recalled even the fact that it was his pro- 
 specting on the mountain that first suggested the existence 
 of gold in the outcrop and the use of the hydraulic. He 
 had never abandoned that belief, whatever the others had 
 done. He dwelt somewhat indignantly to himself on this 
 circumstance, and half unconsciously faced defiantly to- 
 wards the plain below. But it was sleeping peacefully in 
 the full sight of the moon, without life or motion. He 
 looked at the stars, it was still far from midnight. His 
 companions had no doubt long since returned to the cabin 
 to prepare for their midnight journey. They were dis- 
 cussing him, perhaps laughing at him, or worse, pitying 
 him and his bargain. Yet here was his bargain ! A slight 
 laugh he gave vent to here startled him a little, it sounded 
 so hard and so unmirthful, and so unlike, as he oddly 
 fancied, what he really thought. But what did he think ? 
 
 Nothing mean or revengeful ; no, they never would say 
 that. When he had taken out all the surface gold and 
 put the mine in working order, he would send them each 
 a draft for a thousand dollars. Of course, if they were 
 ever ill or poor he would do more. One of the first, the 
 very first things he should do would be to send them each 
 a handsome gun, and tell them that he only asked in return 
 the old-fashioned rifle that once was his. Looking back 
 at the moment in after-years, he wondered that, with this 
 exception, he made no plans for his own future, or the way 
 he should dispose of his newly acquired wealth. This was 
 the more singular as it had been the custom of the five 
 partners to lie awake at night, audibly comparing with each 
 other what they would do in case they made a strike. He 
 remembered how, Alnaschar-like, they nearly separated 
 once over a difference in the disposal of a hundred thou- 
 sand dollars that they never had, nor expected to have.
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 209 
 
 He remembered how Union Mills always began his career 
 as a millionaire by a " square meal " at Delmonico's ; how 
 the Right Bower's initial step was always a trip home " to 
 see his mother ; " how the Left Bower would immediately 
 placate the parents of his beloved with priceless gifts (it 
 may be parenthetically remarked that the parents and the 
 beloved one were as hypothetical as the fortune) ; and how 
 the Judge would make his first start as a capitalist by 
 breaking a certain faro bank in Sacramento. He himself 
 had been equally eloquent in extravagant fancy in those 
 penniless days. he who now was quite cold and impassive 
 beside the more extravagant reality. 
 
 How different it might have been ! If they had only 
 waited a day longer ! if they had only broken 'their resolves 
 to him kindly and parted in good will ! How he would 
 long ere this have rushed to greet them with the joyful 
 news ! How they would have danced around it, sung 
 themselves hoarse, laughed down their enemies, and run up 
 the flag triumphantly on the summit of the Lone Star 
 Mountain ! How they would have crowned him, the " Old 
 Man," " the hero of the camp " ! How he would have 
 told them the whole story ; how some strange instinct had 
 impelled him to ascend the summit, and how another step 
 on that summit would have precipitated him into the canon ! 
 And how But what if somebody else, Union Mills or the 
 Judge, had been the first discoverer ? Might they not 
 have meanly kept the secret from him ; have selfishly 
 helped themselves, and done 
 
 " What you are doing now." 
 
 The hot blood rushed to his cheek, as if a strange voice 
 were at his ear. For a moment he could not believe that 
 it came from his own pale lips until he found himself 
 speaking. He rose to his feet, tingling with shame, and 
 began hurriedly to descend the mountain. 
 
 He would go to them, tell them of his discovery, let them
 
 210 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 give him his share, and leave them forever. It was the 
 only thing to be done strange that he had not thought 
 of it at once. Yet it was hard, very hard and cruel, to be 
 forced to meet them again. What had he done to suffer 
 this mortification ? For a moment he actually hated this 
 vulgar treasure that had forever buried under its gross pon- 
 derability the light and careless past, and utterly crushed 
 out the poetry of their old, indolent, happy existence. 
 
 He was sure to find them waiting at the Cross-Koads 
 where the coach came past. It was three miles away, yet 
 he could get there in time if he hastened. It was a wise 
 and practical conclusion of his evening's work, a lame and 
 impotent conclusion to his evening's indignation. No mat- 
 ter. They would perhaps at first think he had come to 
 weakly follow them, perhaps they would at first doubt his 
 story. No matter. He bit his lips to keep down the fool- 
 ish rising tears, but still went blindly forward. 
 
 He saw not the beautiful night, cradled in the dark hills, 
 swathed in luminous mists, and hushed in the awe of its 
 own loveliness ! Here and there the moon had laid her 
 calm face on lake and overflow, and gone to sleep embracing 
 them, until the whole plain seemed to be lifted into infinite 
 quiet. Walking on as in a dream, the black, impenetrable 
 barriers of skirting thickets opened and gave way to vague 
 distances that it appeared impossible to reach, dim vistas 
 that seemed unapproachable. Gradually he seemed himself 
 to become a part of the mysterious night. He was becom- 
 ing as pulseless, as calm, as passionless. 
 
 What was that ? A shot in the direction of the cabin ! 
 yet so faint, so echoless, so ineffective in the vast silence, 
 that he would have thought it his fancy but for the strange 
 instinctive jar upon his sensitive nerves. Was it an acci- 
 dent, or was it an intentional signal to him ? He stopped ; 
 it was not repeated ; the silence reasserted itself, but this 
 time with an ominous deathlike suggestion. A sudden and
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAK MOUNTAIN 211 
 
 terrible thought crossed his mind. He cast aside his pack 
 and all encumbering weight, took a deep breath, lowered 
 his head, and darted like a deer in the direction of the 
 challenge. 
 
 n 
 
 The exodus of the seceding partners of the Lone Star 
 claim had been scarcely an imposing one. For the first five 
 minutes after quitting the cabin the procession was strag- 
 gling and vagabond. Unwonted exertion had exaggerated 
 the lameness of some, and feebleness of moral purpose 
 had predisposed the others to obtrusive musical exhibition. 
 Union Mills limped and whistled with affected abstraction ; 
 the Judge whistled and limped with affected earnestness. 
 The Eight Bower led the way with some show of definite 
 design; the Left Bower followed with his hands in his 
 pockets. The two feebler natures, drawn together in uncon- 
 scious sympathy, looked vaguely at each other for support. 
 
 " You see," said the Judge suddenly, as if triumphantly 
 concluding an argument, " there ain't anything better for a 
 young fellow than independence. Nature, so to speak, 
 points the way. Look at the animals." 
 
 " There 's a skunk hereabouts," said Union Mills, who 
 was supposed to be gifted with aristocratically sensitive 
 nostrils, " within ten miles of this place ; like as not cross- 
 ing the Kidge. It 's always my luck to happen out just at 
 such times. I don't see the necessity anyhow of trapesing 
 round the claim now, if we calculate to leave it to-night." 
 
 Both men waited to observe if the suggestion was taken 
 up by the Right and Left Bowers moodily plodding ahead. 
 No response following, the Judge shamelessly abandoned 
 his companion. 
 
 " You would n't stand snoopin' round instead of lettin' 
 the Old Man get used to the idea alone ? No j I could see
 
 212 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 all along that he was takin' it in, takin' it in kindly but 
 slowly, and I reckoned the best thing for us to do was to 
 git up and git until he 'd got round it." The Judge's voice 
 was slightly raised for the benefit of the two before him. 
 
 " Did n't he say," remarked the Eight Bower, stopping 
 suddenly and facing the others, " did n't he say that that 
 new trader was goin' to let him have some provisions any- 
 way ? " 
 
 Union Mills turned appealingly to the Judge ; that gen- 
 tleman was forced to reply, " Yes ; I remember distinctly 
 he said it. It was one of the things I was particular about 
 on his account," responded the Judge, with the air of hav- 
 ing arranged it all himself with the new trader. " I re- 
 member I was easier in my mind about it." 
 
 " But did n't he say," queried the Left Bower, also stop- 
 ping short, " suthin' about its being contingent on our doing 
 some work on the race ? " 
 
 The Judge turned for support to Union Mills, who, how- 
 ever, under the hollow pretense of preparing for a long con- 
 ference, had luxuriously seated himself on a stump. The 
 Judge sat down also, and replied hesitatingly, " Well, yes ! 
 Us or him.-" 
 
 " Us or him," repeated the Eight Bower, with gloomy 
 irony. " And you ain't quite clear in your mind, are you, 
 if you have n't done the work already ? You 're just kill- 
 ing yourself with this spontaneous, promiscuous, and pre- 
 mature overwork ; that 's what 's the matter with you." 
 
 " I reckon I heard somebody say suthin' about its being 
 a Chinaman's three-day job," interpolated the Left Bower, 
 with equal irony ; " but I ain't quite clear in my mind about 
 that." 
 
 " It '11 be a sorter distraction for the Old Man," said 
 Union Mills feebly, " kinder take his mind off his lone- 
 liness." 
 
 Nobody taking the least notice of the remark, Union
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 213 
 
 Mills stretched out his legs more comfortably and took out 
 his pipe. He had scarcely done so when the Eight Bower, 
 wheeling suddenly, set off in the direction of the creek. 
 The Left Bower, after a slight pause, followed without a 
 word. The Judge, wisely conceiving it better to join the 
 stronger party, ran feebly after him, and left Union Mills 
 to bring up a weak and vacillating rear. 
 
 Their course, diverging from Lone Star Mountain, led 
 them now directly to the bend of the creek, the base of 
 their old ineffectual operations. Here was the beginning of 
 the famous tail-race that skirted the new trader's claim, and 
 then lost its way in a swampy hollow. It was choked with 
 ddbris ; a thin, yellow stream that once ran through it seemed 
 to have stopped work when they did, and gone into green- 
 ish liquidation. 
 
 They had scarcely spoken during this brief journey, and 
 had received no other explanation from the Right Bower, 
 who led them, than that afforded by his mute example when 
 he reached the race. Leaping into it without a word, he at 
 once began to clear away the broken timbers and driftwood. 
 Fired by the spectacle of what appeared to be a new and 
 utterly frivolous game, the men gayly leaped after him, and 
 were soon engaged in a fascinating struggle with the impeded 
 race. The Judge forgot his lameness in springing over a 
 broken sluice - box ; Union Mills forgot his whistle in a 
 happy imitation of a Chinese coolie's song. Nevertheless, 
 after ten minutes of this mild dissipation, the pastime 
 flagged ; Union Mills was beginning to rub his leg, when a 
 distant rumble shook the earth. The men looked at each 
 other ; the diversion was complete ; a languid discussion of 
 the probabilities of its being an earthquake or a blast fol- 
 lowed, in the midst of which the Eight Bower, who was 
 working a little in advance of the others, uttered a warning 
 cry and leaped from the race. His companions had barely 
 time to follow before a sudden and inexplicable rise in the
 
 214 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 waters of the creek sent a swift irruption of the flood 
 through the race. In an instant its choked and impeded 
 channel was cleared, the race was free, and the scattered de- 
 bris of logs and timher floated upon its easy current. Quick 
 to take advantage of this labor - saving phenomenon, the 
 Lone Star partners sprang into the water, and by disentan- 
 gling and directing the eddying fragments completed their 
 work. 
 
 " The Old Man oughter been here to see this," said the 
 Left Bower ; " it 's just one o' them climaxes of poetic 
 justice he 's always huntin' up. It 's easy to see what 's 
 happened. One o' them high-toned shrimps over in the Ex- 
 celsior claim has put a blast in too near the creek. He 's 
 tumbled the bank into the creek, and sent the backwater 
 down here just to wash out our race. That 's what I call 
 poetical retribution." 
 
 " And who was it advised us to dam the creek below the 
 race and make it do the thing ? " asked the Eight Bower 
 moodily. 
 
 " That was one of the Old Man's ideas, I reckon," said 
 the Left Bower dubiously. 
 
 "And you remember," broke in the Judge with anima- 
 tion, " I allus said, ' Go slow, go slow. You just hold on, 
 and suthin' will happen.' And," he added triumphantly, 
 " you see suthin' has happened. I don't want to take credit 
 to myself, but I reckoned on them Excelsior boys bein' 
 fools, and took the chances." 
 
 " And what if I happen to know that the Excelsior boys 
 ain't blastin' to-day ? " said the Eight Bower sarcastically. 
 
 As the Judge had evidently based his hypothesis on the 
 alleged fact of a blast, he deftly evaded the point. " I 
 ain't sayin' the Old Man's head ain't level on some things ; 
 he wants a little more sabe of the world. He 's improved a 
 good deal in euchre lately, and in poker well ! he 's got 
 that sorter dreamy, listenin'-to-the-angels kind o' way that
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 215 
 
 you can't exactly tell whether he's bluffin' or has got a full 
 hand. Hasn't he ? " he asked, appealing to Union Mills. 
 
 But that gentleman, who had been watching the dark face 
 of the Eight Bower, preferred to take what he believed to 
 be his cue from him. " That ain't the question," he said 
 virtuously ; " we ain't takin' this step to make a card-sharp 
 out of him. We 're not doin' Chinamen's work in this race 
 to-day for that. No, sir ! We 're teachin' him to paddle 
 his own canoe." Not finding the sympathetic response he 
 looked for in the Right Bower's face, he turned to the Left. 
 
 " I reckon we were teachin' him our canoe was too full," 
 was the Left Bower's unexpected reply. " That 's about 
 the size of it." 
 
 The Right Bower shot a rapid glance under his brows at 
 his brother. The latter, with his hands in his pockets, stared 
 unconsciously at the rushing water, and then quietly turned 
 away. The Right Bower followed him. " Are you goin' 
 back on us ? " he asked. 
 
 " Are you ? " responded the other. 
 
 " No ! " 
 
 " No, then, it is," returned the Left Bower quietly. The 
 elder brother hesitated in half-angry embarrassment. 
 
 " Then what did you mean by saying we reckoned our 
 canoe was too full ? " 
 
 " Was n't that our idea ? " returned the Left Bower in- 
 differently. Confounded by this practical expression of 
 his own unformulated good intentions, the Right Bower was 
 staggered. 
 
 " Speakin' of the Old Man," broke in the Judge, with 
 characteristic infelicity, " I reckon he '11 sort o' miss us, 
 times like these. We were allers runnin' him and bedev- 
 ilin' him, after work, just to get him excited and amusin', 
 and he '11 kinder miss that sort o' stimulatin'. I reckon 
 we '11 miss it too, somewhat. Don't you remember, boys, 
 the night we put up that little sell on him and made him
 
 216 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 believe we 'd struck it rich in the bank of the creek, and 
 got him so conceited he wanted to go off and settle all our 
 debts at once ? " 
 
 " And how I came bustin' into the cabin with a pan full 
 of iron pyrites and black sand," chuckled Union Mills, con- 
 tinuing the reminiscences, " and how them big gray eyes of 
 his nearly bulged out of his head. Well, it 's some satis- 
 faction to know we did our duty by the young fellow even 
 in those little things." He turned for confirmation of their 
 general disinterestedness to the Eight Bower, but he was 
 already striding away, uneasily conscious of the lazy follow- 
 ing of the Left Bower, like a laggard conscience at his back. 
 This movement again threw Union Mills and the Judge into 
 feeble complicity in the rear, as the procession slowly strag- 
 gled homeward from the creek. 
 
 Night had fallen. Their way lay through the shadow of 
 Lone Star Mountain, deepened here and there by the slight, 
 bosky ridges that, starting from its base, crept across the 
 plain like vast roots of its swelling trunk. The shadows 
 were growing blacker as the moon began to assert itself over 
 the rest of the valley, when the Eight Bower halted sud- 
 denly on one of these ridges. The Left Bower lounged up 
 to him, and stopped also, while the two others came up and 
 completed the group. 
 
 " There 's no light in the shanty," said the Eight Bower 
 in a low voice, half to himself and half in answer to their 
 inquiring attitude. The men followed the direction of his 
 finger. In the distance the black outline of the Lone Star 
 cabin stood out distinctly in the illumined space. There 
 was the black, sightless, external glitter of moonlight on its 
 two windows that seemed to reflect its dim vacancy, empty 
 alike of light and warmth and motion. 
 
 " That 's sing'lar," said the Judge in an awed whisper. 
 
 The Left Bower, by simply altering the position of his 
 hands in his trousers' pockets, managed to suggest that he
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 217 
 
 knew perfectly the meaning of it, had always known it ; 
 but that being now, so to speak, in the hands of Fate, he 
 was callous to it. This much, at least, the elder brother 
 read in his attitude. But anxiety at that moment was the 
 controlling impulse of the Right Bower, as a certain super- 
 stitious remorse was the instinct of the two others ; and with- 
 out heeding th'e cynic, the three started at a rapid pace for 
 the cabin. 
 
 They reached it silently, as the moon, now riding high 
 in the heavens, seemed to touch it with the tender grace 
 and hushed repose of a tomb. It was with something of 
 this feeling that the Eight Bower softly pushed open the 
 door ; it was with something of this dread that the two 
 others lingered on the threshold, until the Eight Bower, 
 after vainly trying to stir the dead embers on the hearth 
 into life with his foot, struck a match and lit their solitary 
 candle. Its flickering light revealed the familiar interior 
 unchanged in aught but one thing. The bunk that the Old 
 Man had occupied was stripped of its blankets ; the few 
 cheap ornaments and photographs were gone ; the rude 
 poverty of the bare boards and scant pallet looked up at 
 them unrelieved by the bright face and gracious youth that 
 had once made them tolerable. In the grim irony of that 
 exposure, their own penury was doubly conscious. The lit- 
 tle knapsack, the tea-cup, and coffee-pot that had hung near 
 his bed were gone also. The most indignant protest, the 
 most pathetic of the letters he had composed and rejected, 
 whose torn fragments still littered the floor, could never 
 have spoken with the eloquence of this empty space ! The 
 men exchanged no words ; the solitude of the cabin, instead 
 of drawing them together, seemed to isolate each one in 
 selfish distrust of the others. Even the unthinking gar- 
 rulity of Union Mills and the Judge was checked. A 
 moment later, when the Left Bower entered the cabin, his 
 presence was scarcely noticed.
 
 218 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 The silence was broken by a joyous exclamation from 
 the Judge. He had discovered the Old Man's rifle in the 
 corner, where it had been at first overlooked. " He ain't 
 gone yet, gentlemen for yer 's his rifle," he broke in, 
 with a feverish return of volubility, and a high excited 
 falsetto. " He would n't have left this behind. No ! I 
 knowed it from the first. He 's just outside a bit, foraging 
 for wood and water. No, sir ! Coming along here I said 
 to Union Mills did n't I ? < Bet your life the Old 
 Man 's not far off, even if he ain't in the cabin.' Why, the 
 moment I stepped foot " 
 
 "And I said coming along," interrupted Union Mills, 
 with equally reviving mendacity, ' Like as not he 's hangin' 
 round yer and lyin' low just to give us a surprise.' He ! 
 ho!" 
 
 " He 's gone for good, and he left that rifle here on pur- 
 ," said the Left Bower in 
 almost tenderly in his hands. 
 
 " Drop it, then ! " said the Eight Bower. The voice was 
 that of his brother, but suddenly changed with passion. 
 The two other partners drew back in alarm. 
 
 " I '11 not leave it here for the first comer," said the Left 
 Bower calmly, " because we 've been fools, and he, too. 
 It 's too good a weapon for that." 
 
 " Drop it, I say ! " said the Eight Bower, with a savage 
 stride towards him. 
 
 The younger brother brought the rifle to a half charge 
 with a white face but a steady eye. 
 
 " Stop where you are ! " he said collectedly. " Don't 
 row with me, because you have n't either the grit to stick 
 to your ideas or the heart to confess them wrong. We 've 
 followed your lead, and here we are ! The camp 's 
 broken up the Old Man 's gone and we 're going. And 
 as for the d d rifle " 
 
 " Drop it, do you hear ! " shouted the Eight Bower,
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 219 
 
 clinging to that one idea with the blind pertinacity of rage 
 and a losing cause. " Drop it ! " 
 
 The Left Bower drew back, but his brother had seized 
 the barrel with both hands. There was a momentary strug- 
 gle, a flash through the half-lighted cabin, and a shattering 
 report. The two men fell back from each other; the rifle 
 dropped on the floor between them. 
 
 The whole thing was over so quickly that the other two 
 partners had not had time to obey their common impulse 
 to separate them, and consequently even now could scarcely 
 understand what had passed. It was over so quickly that 
 the two actors themselves walked back to their places, 
 scarcely realizing their own act. 
 
 A dead silence followed. The Judge and Union Mills 
 looked at each other in dazed astonishment, and then ner- 
 vously set about their former habits, apparently in that 
 fatuous belief common to such natures, that they were ig- 
 noring a painful situation. The Judge drew the barrel 
 towards him, picked up the cards, and began mechanically 
 to " make a patience," on which Union Mills gazed with 
 ostentatious interest, but with eyes furtively conscious of 
 the rigid figure of the Eight Bower by the chimney and 
 the abstracted face of the Left Bower at the door. Ten 
 minutes had passed in this occupation, the Judge and Union 
 Mills conversing in the furtive whispers of children una- 
 voidably but fascinatedly present at a family quarrel, when 
 a light step was heard upon the crackling brushwood out- 
 side, and the bright panting face of the Old Man appeared 
 upon the threshold. There was a shout of joy ; in another 
 moment he was half buried in the bosom of the Eight 
 Bower's shirt, half dragged into the lap of the Judge, upset- 
 ting the barrel, and completely encompassed by the Left 
 Bower and Union Mills. With the enthusiastic utterance 
 of his name the spell was broken. 
 
 Happily unconscious of the previous excitement that had
 
 220 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 provoked this spontaneous unanimity of greeting, the Old 
 Man, equally relieved, at once broke into a feverish an- 
 nouncement of his discovery. He painted the details, with, 
 I fear, a slight exaggeration of coloring, due partly to his 
 own excitement, and partly to justify their own. But he 
 was strangely conscious that these bankrupt men appeared 
 less elated with their personal interest in their stroke of 
 fortune than with his own success. " I told you he 'd do 
 it," said the Judge, with a reckless unscrupulousness of the 
 statement that carried everybody with it ; " look at him ! 
 the game little pup." " Oh, no ! he ain't the right breed, 
 is he ? " echoed Union Mills with arch irony, while the 
 Right and Left Bower, grasping either hand, pressed a 
 proud but silent greeting that was half new to him, but 
 wholly delicious. It was not without difficulty that he 
 could at last prevail upon them to return with him to the 
 scene of his discovery, or even then restrain them from at- 
 tempting to carry him thither on their shoulders on the 
 plea of his previous prolonged exertions. Once only there 
 was a momentary embarrassment. " Then you fired that 
 shot to bring me back ? " said the Old Man gratefully. In 
 the awkward silence that followed, the hands of the two 
 brothers sought and grasped each other penitently. " Yes," 
 interposed the Judge, with delicate tact, " ye see the Eight 
 and Left Bower almost quarreled to see which should be 
 the first to fire for ye. I disremember which did " "I 
 never touched the trigger," said the Left Bower hastily. 
 With a hurried backward kick, the Judge resumed, " It 
 went off sorter spontaneous." 
 
 The difference in the sentiment of the procession that 
 once more issued from the Lone Star cabin did not fail 
 to show itself in each individual partner according to his 
 temperament. The subtle tact of Union Mills, however, 
 in expressing an awakened respect for their fortunate part- 
 ner by addressing him, as if unconsciously, as " Mr. Ford "
 
 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 221 
 
 was at first discomposing, but even this was forgotten in 
 their breathless excitement as they neared the base of the 
 mountain. When they had crossed the creek the Eight 
 Bower stopped reflectively. 
 
 " You say you heard the slide come down before you left 
 the cabin ? " he said, turning to the Old Man. 
 
 " Yes ; but I did not know then what it was. It was 
 about an hour and a half after you left," was the reply. 
 
 " Then look here, boys," continued the Eight Bower 
 with superstitious exultation ; " it was the slide that tum- 
 bled into the creek, overflowed it, and helped us clear out 
 the race ! " 
 
 It seemed so clear that Providence had taken the part- 
 ners of the Lone Star directly in hand that they faced the 
 toilsome ascent of the mountain with the assurance of con- 
 querors. They paused only on the summit to allow the 
 Old Man to lead the way to the slope that held their trea- 
 sure. He advanced cautiously to the edge of the crumbling 
 cliff, stopped, looked bewildered, advanced again, and then 
 remained white and immovable. In an instant the Eight 
 Bower was at his side. 
 
 " Is anything the matter ? Don't don't look so, Old 
 Man, for God's sake ! " 
 
 The Old Man pointed to the dull, smooth, black side of 
 the mountain, without a crag, break, or protuberance, and 
 said with ashen lips, 
 
 " It 's gone ! " 
 
 And it was gone ! A second slide had taken place, strip- 
 ping the flank of the mountain, and burying the treasure 
 and the weak implement that had marked its side deep 
 under a chaos of rock and ddbris at its base. 
 
 " Thank God ! " The blank faces of his companions 
 turned quickly to the Eight Bower. " Thank God ! " he 
 repeated, with his arm round the neck of the Old Man,
 
 222 LEFT OUT ON LONE STAR MOUNTAIN 
 
 " Had he stayed behind he would have been buried too." 
 He paused, and, pointing solemnly to the depths below, 
 said, " And thank God for showing us where we may yet 
 labor for it in hope and patience like honest men." 
 
 The men silently bowed their heads and slowly descended 
 the mountain. But when they had reached the plain one 
 of them called out to the others to watch a star that seemed 
 to be rising and moving towards them over the hushed and 
 sleeping valley. 
 
 " It 's only the stage-coach, boys," said the Left Bower, 
 smiling ; " the coach that was to take us away." 
 
 In the security of their new-found fraternity they re- 
 solved to wait and see it pass. As it swept by with flash 
 of light, beat of hoofs, and jingle of harness, the only real 
 presence in the dreamy landscape, the driver shouted a 
 hoarse greeting to the phantom partners, audible only to 
 the Judge, who was nearest the vehicle. 
 
 " Did you hear did you hear what he said, boys ? " 
 he gasped, turning to his companions. " No ? Shake 
 hands all round, boys ! God bless you all, boys ! To 
 think we did n't know it all this while ! " 
 
 " Know what ? " 
 
 "Merry Christmas!"
 
 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 IT had rained so persistently in San Francisco during the 
 first week of January, 1854, that a certain quagmire in the 
 roadway of Long Wharf had become impassable, and a 
 plank was thrown over its dangerous depth. Indeed, so 
 treacherous was the spot that it was alleged, on good au- 
 thority, that a hastily embarking traveler had once hope- 
 lessly lost his portmanteau, and was fain to dispose of his 
 entire interest in it for the sum of two dollars and fifty 
 cents to a speculative stranger on the wharf. As the stran- 
 ger's search was rewarded afterwards only by the discovery 
 of the body of a casual Chinaman, who had evidently en- 
 deavored wickedly to anticipate him, a feeling of commer- 
 cial insecurity was added to the other eccentricities of the 
 locality. 
 
 The plank led to the door of a building that was a mar- 
 vel even in the chaotic frontier architecture of the street. 
 The houses on either side irregular frames of wood or 
 corrugated iron bore evidence of having been quickly 
 thrown together, to meet the requirements of the goods and 
 passengers who were once disembarked on what was the 
 muddy beach of the infant city. But the building in ques- 
 tion exhibited a certain elaboration of form and design ut- 
 terly inconsistent with this idea. The structure obtruded 
 a bowed front to the street, with a curving line of small 
 windows, surmounted by elaborate carvings and scrollwork 
 of vines and leaves, while below, in faded gilt letters, ap- 
 peared the legend "Pontiac Marseilles." The effect of
 
 224 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 this incongruity was startling. It is related that an inebri- 
 ated miner, impeded by mud and drink before its door, 
 was found gazing at its remarkable facade with an expres- 
 sion of the deepest despondency. " I hev lived a free life, 
 pardner," he explained thickly to the Samaritan who suc- 
 cored him, "and every time since I've been on this six 
 weeks' jamboree might have kalkilated it would come to 
 this. Snakes I 've seen afore now, and rats I 'm not un- 
 familiar with, but when it comes to the starn of a ship ris- 
 in' up out of the street, I reckon it 's time to pass in my 
 checks. " 
 
 "It is a ship, you blasted old soaker," said the Samari- 
 tan curtly. 
 
 It was indeed a ship. A ship run ashore and abandoned 
 on the beach years before by her gold-seeking crew, with 
 the ddbris of her scattered stores and cargo, overtaken by 
 the wild growth of the strange city and the reclamation of 
 the muddy flat, wherein she lay hopelessly imbedded; her 
 retreat cut off by wharves and quays and breakwater, 
 jostled at first by sheds, and then impacted in a block of 
 solid warehouses and dwellings, her rudder, port, and coun- 
 ter boarded in, and now gazing hopelessly through her cabin 
 windows upon the busy street before her. But still a ship 
 despite her transformation. The faintest line of contour 
 yet left visible spoke of the buoyancy of another element; 
 the balustrade of her roof was unmistakably a taffrail. 
 The rain slipped from her swelling sides with a certain 
 lingering touch of the sea; the soil around her was still 
 treacherous with its suggestions, and even the wind whis- 
 tled nautically over her chimney. If, in the fury of some 
 southwesterly gale, she had one night slipped her strange 
 moorings and left a shining track through the lower town 
 to the distant sea, no one would have been surprised. 
 
 Least of all, perhaps, her present owner and possessor, 
 Mr. Abner Kott. For by the irony of circumstances, Mr.
 
 A SHIP OF '49 225 
 
 Nott was a Far Western farmer who had never seen a ship 
 before, nor a larger stream of water than a tributary of the 
 Missouri River. In a spirit, half of fascination, half of 
 speculation, he had bought her at the time of her aban- 
 donment, and had since mortgaged his ranch at Petaluma 
 with his live stock, to defray the expenses of filling in the 
 land where she stood, and the improvements of the vicin- 
 ity. He had transferred his household goods and his only 
 daughter to her cabin, and had divided the space "between 
 decks " and her hold into lodging-rooms, and lofts for the 
 storage of goods. It could hardly be said that the invest- 
 ment had been profitable. His tenants vaguely recognized 
 that his occupancy was a sentimental rather than a commer- 
 cial speculation, and often generously lent themselves to 
 the illusion by not paying their rent. Others treated their 
 own tenancy as a joke, a quaint recreation born of the 
 childlike familiarity of frontier intercourse. A few had 
 left; carelessly abandoning their unsalable goods to their 
 landlord, with great cheerfulness and a sense of favor. 
 Occasionally Mr. Abner Nott, in a practical relapse, raged 
 against the derelicts, and talked of dispossessing them, or 
 even dismantling his tenement, but he was easily placated 
 by a compliment to the "dear old ship," or an effort made 
 by some tenant to idealize his apartment. A photographer 
 who had ingeniously utilized the forecastle for a gallery 
 (accessible from the bows in the next street) paid no fur- 
 ther tribute than a portrait of the pretty face of Eosey 
 Nott. The superstitious reverence in which Abner Nott 
 held his monstrous fancy was naturally enhanced by his 
 purely bucolic exaggeration of its real functions and its na- 
 tive element. "This yer keel has sailed and sailed and 
 sailed, " he would explain, with some incongruity of illustra- 
 tion, "in a bee line, makin' tracks for days runnin'. I 
 reckon more storms and blizzards hez tackled her than you 
 ken shake a stick at. She 's stampeded whales afore now,
 
 226 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 and sloshed round with pirates and freebooters in and outer 
 the Spanish Main, and across lots from Marcelleys where 
 she was rared. And yer she sits peaceful-like just ez if 
 she'd never been outer a pertater patch, and hadn't 
 ploughed the sea with fo' sails and studdin' sails and them 
 things cavortin' round her masts." 
 
 Abner Nott's enthusiasm was shared by his daughter, 
 but with more imagination, and an intelligence stimulated 
 by the scant literature of her father's emigrant wagon and 
 the few books found on the cabin shelves. But to her the 
 strange shell she inhabited suggested more of the great 
 world than the rude, chaotic civilization she saw from the 
 cabin windows or met in the persons of her father's lodgers. 
 Shut up for days in this quaint tenement, she had seen it 
 change from the enchanted playground of her childish fancy 
 to the theatre of her active maidenhood, but without losing 
 her ideal romance in it. She had translated its history in 
 her own way, read its quaint nautical hieroglyphics after 
 her own fashion, and possessed herself of its secrets. She 
 had in fancy made voyages in it to foreign lands, had 
 heard the accents of a softer tongue on its decks, and on 
 summer nights, from the roof of the quarter-deck, had seen 
 mellower constellations take the place of the hard metallic 
 glitter of the Californian skies. Sometimes, in her isola- 
 tion, the long, cylindrical vault she inhabited seemed, like 
 some vast seashell, to become musical with the murmur- 
 ings of the distant sea. So completely had it taken the 
 place of the usual instincts of feminine youth that she had 
 forgotten she was pretty, or that her dresses were old in 
 fashion and scant in quantity. After the first surprise of 
 admiration her father's lodgers ceased to follow the ab- 
 stracted nymph except with their eyes, partly respecting 
 her spiritual shyness, partly respecting the jealous super- 
 vision of the paternal Nott. She seldom penetrated the 
 crowded centre of the growing city; her rare excursions
 
 A SHIP OF '49 227 
 
 were confined to the old ranch at Petaluma, whence she 
 brought flowers and plants, and even extemporized a hang- 
 ing-garden on the quarter-deck. 
 
 It was still raining, and the wind, which had increased 
 to a gale, was dashing the drops against the slanting cabin 
 windows with a sound like spray when Mr. Abner Nott sat 
 before a table seriously engaged with his accounts. For it 
 was " steamer night, " as that momentous day of reckon- 
 ing before the sailing of the regular mail steamer was briefly 
 known to commercial San Francisco, and Mr. Nott was 
 subject at such times to severely practical relapses. A 
 swinging light seemed to bring into greater relief that 
 peculiar encased casket-like security of the low-timbered, 
 tightly fitting apartment, with its toy-like utilities of space, 
 and made the pretty oval face of Eosey Nott appear a char- 
 acteristic ornament. The sliding door of the cabin commu- 
 nicated with the main deck, now roofed in and partitioned 
 off so as to form a small passage that led to the open star- 
 board gangway, where a narrow, inclosed staircase built on 
 the ship's side took the place of the ship's ladder under 
 her counter, and opened in the street. 
 
 A dash of rain against the window caused Eosey to lift 
 her eyes from her book. 
 
 "It's much nicer here than at the ranch, father," she 
 said coaxingly, "even leaving alone its being a beautiful 
 ship instead of a shanty; the wind don't whistle through 
 the cracks and blow out the candle when you 're reading, 
 nor the rain spoil your things hung up against the wall. 
 And you look more like a gentleman sitting in his own 
 ship you know, looking over his bills and getting ready 
 to give his orders." 
 
 Vague and general as Miss Eosey 's compliment was, 
 it had its full effect upon her father, who was at times 
 dimly conscious of his hopeless rusticity and its incongru- 
 ity with his surroundings. "Yes," he said awkwardly,
 
 228 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 with a slight relaxation of his aggressive attitude; "yes, 
 in course it 's more bang-up style, but it don't pay Rosey 
 it don't pay. Yer 's the Pontiac that oughter be bringin' 
 in, ez rents go, at least three hundred a month, don't make 
 her taxes. I bin thinkin' seriously of sellin' her." 
 
 As Eosey knew her father had experienced this serious 
 contemplation on the first of every month for the last two 
 years, and cheerfully ignored it the next day, she only said, 
 " I 'm sure the vacant rooms and lofts are all rented, father. " 
 
 "That's it," returned Mr. Nott thoughtfully, plucking 
 at his bushy whiskers with his fingers and thumb as if he 
 were removing dead and sapless incumbrances in their 
 growth, "that's just what it is them 's ez in it them- 
 selves don't pay, and them ez haz left their goods the 
 goods don't pay. The feller ez stored them iron sugar 
 kettles in the forehold, after trying to get me to make an- 
 other advance on 'em, sez he believes he '11 have to sacrifice 
 'em to me after all, and only begs I 'd give him a chance 
 of buying back the half of 'em ten years from now, at 
 double what I advanced him. The chap that left them 
 five hundred eases of hair-dye 'tween decks, and then 
 skipped out to Sacramento, met me the other day in the 
 street and advised me to use a bottle ez an advertisement, 
 or try it on the starn of the Pontiac for fireproof paint. 
 That foolishness ez all he 's good for. And yet thar might 
 be suthin' in the paint, if a feller had nigger luck. Ther 's 
 that New York chap ez bought up them damaged boxes of 
 plug terbakker for fifty dollars a thousand, and sold 'em for 
 foundations for that new building in Sansome Street at a 
 thousand clear profit. It's all luck, Rosey." 
 
 The girl's eyes had wandered again to the pages of her 
 book. Perhaps she was already familiar with the text of 
 her father's monologue. But recognizing an additional 
 querulousness in his voice, she laid the book aside and pa- 
 tiently folded her hands in her lap.
 
 A SHIP OF '49 229 
 
 "That 's right for I 've suthin' to tell ye. The fact 
 is Sleight wants to buy the Pontiac out and out just ez she 
 stands with the two fifty vara lots she stands on." 
 
 "Sleight wants to buy her? Sleight?" echoed Eosey 
 incredulously. 
 
 "You bet! Sleight the big financier, the smartest 
 man in 'Frisco." 
 
 " What does he want to buy her for ? " asked Eosey, 
 knitting her pretty brows. 
 
 The apparently simple question suddenly puzzled Mr. 
 Nott. He glanced feebly at his daughter's face, and 
 frowned in vacant irritation. "That 's so," he said, draw- 
 ing a long breath; "there 's suthin' in that." 
 
 " What did he say ? " continued the young girl impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "Not much. 'You've got the Pontiac, Nott,' sez he. 
 ' You bet ! ' sez I. ' What '11 you take for her and the lot 
 she stands on ? ' sez he, short and sharp. Some fellers, 
 Eosey," said Nott, with a cunning smile, "would hev 
 blurted out a big figger and been cotched. That ain't my 
 style. I just looked at him. ' I '11 wait fur your figgers 
 until next steamer day,' sez he, and off he goes like a shot. 
 He 's awfully sharp, Eosey." 
 
 "But if he is sharp, father, and he really wants to buy 
 the ship," returned Eosey thoughtfully, "it's only be- 
 cause he knows it 's valuable property, and not because he 
 likes it as we do. He can't take that value away even if 
 we don't sell it to him, and all the while we have the com- 
 fort of the dear old Pontiac, don't you see ? " 
 
 This exhaustive commercial reasoning was so sympathetic 
 to Mr. Nott's instincts that he accepted it as conclusive. 
 He, however, deemed it wise to still preserve his practical 
 attitude. "But that don't make it pay by the month, 
 Eosey. Suthin' must be done. I 'm thinking I '11 clean 
 out that photographer."
 
 230 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 "Not just after he's taken such a pretty view of the 
 cabin front of the Pontiac from the street, father ! No ! 
 He 's going to give us a copy, and put the other in a shop 
 window in Montgomery Street." 
 
 "That's so," said Mr. Nott musingly; "it's no slouch 
 of an advertisement. ' The Pontiac, ' the property of A. 
 Nott, Esq., of St. Jo, Missouri. Send it on to your aunt 
 Phoebe ; sorter make the old folks open their eyes oh ? 
 Well, seein' he 's been to some expense fittin' up an en- 
 trance from the other street, we '11 let him slide. But as 
 to that d d old Frenchman Ferrers, in the next loft, with 
 his stuck-up airs and highfalutin' style, we must get quit 
 of him; he's regularly gouged me in that ere horsehair 
 spekilation. " 
 
 "How can you say that, father!" said Eosey, with a 
 slight increase of color. "It was your own offer. You 
 know those bales of curled horsehair were left behind by 
 the late tenant to pay his rent. When Mr. De Ferrieres 
 rented the room afterwards, you told him you 'd throw 
 them in in the place of repairs and furniture. It was your 
 own offer." 
 
 " Yes, but I did n't reckon ther 'd ever be a big price 
 per pound paid for the darned stuff for sofys and cushions 
 and sich." 
 
 " How do you know he knew it, father ? " responded 
 Eosey. 
 
 "Then why did he look so silly at first, and then put 
 on airs when I joked him about it, eh? " 
 
 "Perhaps he didn't understand your joking, father. 
 He's a foreigner, and shy and proud, and not like the 
 others. I don't think he knew what you meant then, any 
 more than he believed he was making a bargain before. 
 He may be poor, but I think he 's been a a gentle- 
 man. " 
 
 The young girl's animation penetrated even Mr. Nott's
 
 A SHIP OF '49 231 
 
 slow comprehension. Her novel opposition, and even the 
 prettiness it enhanced, gave him a dull premonition of pain. 
 His small round eyes became abstracted, his mouth re- 
 mained partly open, even his fresh color slightly paled. 
 
 "You seem to have been takin' stock of this yer man, 
 Rosey," he said, with a faint attempt at archness; "if he 
 warn't ez old ez a crow, for all his young feathers, I 'd 
 think he was makin' up to you." 
 
 But the passing glow had faded from her young cheeks, 
 and her eyes wandered again to her book. "He pays his 
 rent regularly every steamer night," she said quietly, as if 
 dismissing an exhausted subject, "and he'll be here in a 
 moment, I dare say." She took up her book, and leaning 
 her head on her hand, once more became absorbed in its 
 
 An uneasy silence followed. The rain beat against the 
 windows, the ticking of a clock became audible, but still 
 Mr. Nott sat with vacant eyes fixed on his daughter's face, 
 and the constrained smile on his lips. He was conscious 
 that he had never seen her look so pretty before, yet he 
 could not tell why this was no longer an unalloyed satis- 
 faction. Not but that he had always accepted the admira- 
 tion of others for her as a matter of course, but for the first 
 time he became conscious that she not only had an interest 
 in others, but apparently a superior knowledge of them. 
 How did she know these things about this man, and why 
 had she only now accidentally spoken of them ? He would 
 have done so. All this passed so vaguely through his 
 unreflective mind, that he was unable to retain any decided 
 impression but the far-reaching one that his lodger had 
 obtained some occult influence over her through the ex- 
 hibition of his baleful skill in the horsehair speculation. 
 "Them tricks is likely to take a young girl's fancy. I 
 must look arter her," he said to himself softly. 
 
 A slow, regular step in the gangway interrupted his pater-
 
 232 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 nal reflections. Hastily buttoning across Ms chest the pea- 
 jacket which he usually wore at home as a single conces- 
 sion to his nautical surroundings, he drew himself up with 
 something of the assumption of a shipmaster, despite cer- 
 tain bucolic suggestions of his boots and legs. The foot- 
 steps approached nearer, and a tall figure suddenly stood in 
 the doorway. 
 
 It was a figure so extraordinary that even in the strange 
 masquerade of that early civilization it was remarkable; a 
 figure with whom father and daughter were already familiar 
 without abatement of wonder the figure of a rejuvenated 
 old man, padded, powdered, dyed, and painted to the 
 verge of caricature, but without a single suggestion of ludi- 
 crousness or humor. A face so artificial that it seemed al- 
 most a mask, but, like a mask, more pathetic than amus- 
 ing. He was dressed in the extreme of fashion of a dozen 
 years before; his pearl-gray trousers strapped tightly over 
 his varnished boots, his voluminous satin cravat and high 
 collar embraced his rouged cheeks and dyed whiskers, his 
 closely buttoned frock coat clinging to a waist that seemed 
 accented by stays. 
 
 He advanced two steps into the cabin with an upright 
 precision of motion that might have hid the infirmities of 
 age, and said deliberately with a foreign accent : 
 
 " You-r-r ac-coumpt? " 
 
 In the actual presence of the apparition Mr. Nott's dig- 
 nified resistance wavered. But glancing uneasily at his 
 daughter and seeing her calm eyes fixed on the speaker 
 without embarrassment, he folded his arms stiffly, and 
 with a lofty simulation of examining the ceiling, said : 
 
 "Ahem! Eosa! The gentleman's account." 
 
 It was an infelicitous action. For the stranger, who evi- 
 dently had not noticed the presence of the young girl be- 
 fore, started, took a step quickly forward, bent stiffly but 
 profoundly over the little hand that held the account,
 
 A SHIP OF '49 233 
 
 raised it to his lips, and with "a thousand pardons, ma- 
 demoiselle," laid a small canvas bag containing the rent 
 before the disorganized Mr. Nott and stiffly vanished. 
 
 The night was a troubled one to the simple-minded pro- 
 prietor of the good ship Pontiac. Unable to voice his 
 uneasiness by further discussion, but feeling that his late 
 discomposing interview with his lodger demanded some 
 marked protest, he absented himself on the plea of business 
 during the rest of the evening, happily to his daughter's 
 utter obliviousness of the reason. Lights were burning 
 brilliantly in counting-rooms and offices, the feverish life 
 of the mercantile city was at its height. With a vague 
 idea of entering into immediate negotiations with Mr. 
 Sleight for the sale of the ship, as a direct way out of his 
 present perplexity, he bent his steps towards the finan- 
 cier's office, but paused and turned back before reaching 
 the door. He made his way to the wharf and gazed ab- 
 stractedly at the lights reflected in the dark, tremulous, 
 jelly-like water. But wherever he went he was accom- 
 panied by the absurd figure of his lodger a figure he had 
 hitherto laughed at or half pitied, but which now, to his 
 bewildered comprehension, seemed to have a fateful signifi- 
 cance. Here a new idea seized him, and he hurried back 
 to the ship, slackening his pace only when he arrived at 
 his own doorway. Here he paused a moment and slowly 
 ascended the staircase. When he reached the passage he 
 coughed slightly and paused again. Then he pushed open 
 the door of the darkened cabin and called softly : 
 
 " Rosey ! " 
 
 " What is it, father ? " said Eosey's voice from the little 
 stateroom on the right Rosey's own bower. 
 
 " Nothing ! " said Mr. Nott, with an affectation of lan- 
 guid calmness; "I only wanted to know if you was com- 
 fortable. It 's an awful busy night in town." 
 
 "Yes, father."
 
 232 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 nal reflections. Hastily buttoning across his chest the pea- 
 jacket which he usually wore at home as a single conces- 
 sion to his nautical surroundings, he drew himself up with 
 something of the assumption of a shipmaster, despite cer- 
 tain bucolic suggestions of his boots and legs. The foot- 
 steps approached nearer, and a tall figure suddenly stood in 
 the doorway. 
 
 It was a figure so extraordinary that even in the strange 
 masquerade of that early civilization it was remarkable; a 
 figure with whom father and daughter were already familiar 
 without abatement of wonder the figure of a rejuvenated 
 old man, padded, powdered, dyed, and painted to the 
 verge of caricature, but without a single suggestion of ludi- 
 crousness or humor. A face so artificial that it seemed al- 
 most a mask, but, like a mask, more pathetic than amus- 
 ing. He was dressed in the extreme of fashion of a dozen 
 years before; his pearl-gray trousers strapped tightly over 
 his varnished boots, his voluminous satin cravat and high 
 collar embraced his rouged cheeks and dyed whiskers, his 
 closely buttoned frock coat clinging to a waist that seemed 
 accented by stays. 
 
 He advanced two steps into the cabin with an upright 
 precision of motion that might have hid the infirmities of 
 age, and said deliberately with a foreign accent : 
 
 " You-r-r ac-coumpt? " 
 
 In the actual presence of the apparition Mr. Nott's dig- 
 nified resistance wavered. But glancing uneasily at his 
 daughter and seeing her calm eyes fixed on the speaker 
 without embarrassment, he folded his arms stiffly, and 
 with a lofty simulation of examining the ceiling, said : 
 
 "Ahem! Kosa! The gentleman's account." 
 
 It was an infelicitous action. For the stranger, who evi- 
 dently had not noticed the presence of the young girl be- 
 fore, started, took a step quickly forward, bent stiffly but 
 profoundly over the little hand that held the account,
 
 A SHIP OF '49 233 
 
 raised it to his lips, and with "a thousand pardons, ma- 
 demoiselle," laid a small canvas bag containing the rent 
 before the disorganized Mr. Nott and stiffly vanished. 
 
 The night was a troubled one to the simple-minded pro- 
 prietor of the good ship Pontiac. Unable to voice his 
 uneasiness by further discussion, but feeling that his late 
 discomposing interview with his lodger demanded some 
 marked protest, he absented himself on the plea of business 
 during the rest of the evening, happily to his daughter's 
 utter obliviousness of the reason. Lights were burning 
 brilliantly in counting-rooms and offices, the feverish life 
 of the mercantile city was at its height. With a vague 
 idea of entering into immediate negotiations with Mr. 
 Sleight for the sale of the ship, as a direct way out of his 
 present perplexity, he bent his steps towards the finan- 
 cier's office, but paused and turned back before reaching 
 the door. He made his way to the wharf and gazed ab- 
 stractedly at the lights reflected in the dark, tremulous, 
 jelly-like water. But wherever he went he was accom- 
 panied by the absurd figure of his lodger a figure he had 
 hitherto laughed at or half pitied, but which now, to his 
 bewildered comprehension, seemed to have a fateful signifi- 
 cance. Here a new idea seized him, and he hurried back 
 to the ship, slackening his pace only when he arrived at 
 his own doorway. Here he paused a moment and slowly 
 ascended the staircase. When he reached the passage he 
 coughed slightly and paused again. Then he pushed open 
 the door of the darkened cabin and called softly : 
 
 " Eosey ! " 
 
 "What is it, father? " said Eosey 's voice from the little 
 stateroom on the right Eosey 's own bower. 
 
 "Nothing!" said Mr. Nott, with an affectation of lan- 
 guid calmness; "I only wanted to know if you was com- 
 fortable. It 's an awful busy night in town." 
 
 "Yes, father."
 
 236 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 believed, introduced into the Pontiac a counteracting in- 
 fluence to the subtle fascinations of De Ferrieres. 
 
 The new tenant apparently possessed a combination of 
 business shrewdness and brusque frankness that strongly 
 impressed his landlord. "You see, Eosey," said Nott, 
 complacently describing the interview to his daughter, 
 "when I sorter intimated in a keerless kind o' Avay that 
 sugar kettles and hair-dye was about played out ez securi- 
 ties, he just planked down the money for two months in 
 advance. ' There, ' sez he, ' that 's your security now 
 where 's mine ?' 'I reckon I don't hitch on, pardner, ' 
 sez I; ' security what for 1 ? ' ' 'Spose you sell the ship? ' 
 sez he, ' afore the two months is up. I 've heard that old 
 Sleight wants to buy her.' 'Then you gets back your 
 money, ' sez I. ' And lose my room, ' sez he ; ' not much, 
 old man. You sign a paper that whoever buys the ship 
 inside o' two months hez to buy me ez a tenant with it; 
 that 's on the square. ' So I sign the paper. It was 
 mighty cute in the young feller, wasn't it? " he said, scan- 
 ning his daughter's pretty puzzled face a little anxiously; 
 "and don't you see, ez I ain't goin' to sell the Pontiac, 
 it 's just about ez cute in me, eh ? He 's a contractor some- 
 where around yer, and wants to be near his work. So he 
 takes the room next to the Frenchman, that that ship cap- 
 tain quit for the mines, and succeeds naterally to his chest 
 and things. He 's mighty peart looking, that young fel- 
 ler, Eosey long black mustaches, all his own color, 
 Eosey and he 's a regular high-stepper, you bet. I 
 reckon he 's not only been a gentleman, but ez now. 
 Some o' them contractors are very high-toned ! " 
 
 "I don't think we have any right to give him the cap- 
 tain's chest, father," said Eosey; "there may be some pri- 
 vate things in' it. There were some letters and photographs 
 in the hair-dye man's trunk that you gave the photo- 
 grapher. "
 
 A SHIP OF '49 237 
 
 "That's just it, Eosey," returned Abner Nott with 
 sublime unconsciousness, " photographs and love-letters you 
 can't sell for cash, and I don't mind givin' 'em away, if 
 they kin make a feller creature happy." 
 
 "But, father, have we the right to give 'em away?" 
 
 "They're collateral security, Eosey, " said her father 
 grimly. "Co-la-te-ral," he continued, emphasizing each 
 syllable by tapping the fist of one hand in the open palm 
 of the other. " Co-la-te-ral is the word the big business 
 sharps yer about call 'em. You can't get round that." 
 He paused a moment, and then, as a new idea seemed to 
 be painfully borne in his round eyes, continued cau- 
 tioiisly: "Was that the reason why you would n't touch 
 any of them dresses from the trunks of that opery gal ez 
 skedaddled for Sacramento ? And yet them trunks I regu- 
 larly bought at auction Rosey at auction, on spec 
 and they didn't realize the cost of drayage." 
 
 A slight color mounted to Eosey 's face. "No," she 
 said hastily, "not that." Hesitating a moment, she then 
 drew softly to his side, and placing her arms around his 
 neck, turned his broad foolish face towards her own. 
 "Father," she began, "when mother , died, would you have 
 liked anybody to take her trunks and paw round her things 
 and wear them 1 " 
 
 "When your mother died, just this side o' Sweetwater, 
 Eosey," said Mr. Nbtt, with beaming unconsciousness, 
 "she had n't any trunks. I reckon she hadn't even an 
 extra gown hanging up in the wagin, 'cept the petticoat 
 ez she had wrapped around yer. It was about ez much ez 
 we could do to skirmish round with Injins, alkali, and 
 cold, and we sorter forgot to dress for dinner. She never 
 thought, Eosey, that you and me would live to be inhab- 
 itin' a paliss of a real ship. Ef she had she would have 
 died a proud woman." 
 
 He turned his small, loving, boar-like eyes upon her as
 
 238 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 a preternaturally innocent and trusting companion of Ulys- 
 ses might have regarded the transforming Circe. Eosey 
 turned away with the faintest sigh. The habitual look of 
 abstraction returned to her eyes as if she had once more 
 taken refuge in her own ideal world. Unfortunately the 
 change did not escape either the sensitive observation or 
 the fatuous misconception of the sagacious parent. " Ye '11 
 be mountin' a few furbelows and fixin's, Eosey, I reckon, 
 ez only natural. Mebbe ye '11 have to prink up a little 
 now that we 've got a gentleman contractor in the ship. 
 I '11 see what I kin pick up in Montgomery Street." And 
 indeed he succeeded a few hours later in accomplishing 
 with equal infelicity his generous design. When she re- 
 turned from her household tasks she found on her berth a 
 purple velvet bonnet of extraordinary make and a pair of 
 white satin slippers. "They '11 do for a start-off, Eosey," 
 he explained, "and I got 'em at my figgers." 
 
 "But I go out so seldom, father; and a bonnet" 
 "That's so," interrupted Mr. Nott complacently, "it 
 might be jest ez well for a young gal like yer to appear 
 ez if she did go out, or would go out if she wanted to. So 
 you kin be wearin' that ar headstall kinder like this even- 
 ing when the contractor 's here, ez if you 'd jest come in 
 from apasear." 
 
 Miss Eosey did not, however, immediately avail herself of 
 her father's purchase, but contented herself with the usual 
 scarlet ribbon that like a snood confined her brown hair 
 when she returned to her tasks. The space between the 
 galley and the bulwarks had been her favorite resort in 
 summer when not actually engaged in household work. It 
 was now lightly roofed over with boards and tarpaulin 
 against the winter rain, but still afforded her a veranda- 
 like space before the galley door, where she could read or 
 sew, looking over the bow of the Pontiac to the tossing 
 bay or the farther range of the Contra Costa hills.
 
 A SHIP OF '49 239 
 
 Hither Miss Rosey brought the purple prodigy, partly 
 to please her father, partly with a view of subjecting it to 
 violent radical changes. But after trying it on before the 
 tiny mirror in the galley once or twice, her thoughts wan- 
 dered away, and she fell into one of her habitual reveries 
 seated on a little stool before the galley door. 
 
 She was aroused from it by the slight shaking and rat- 
 tling of the doors of a small hatch on the deck not a dozen 
 yards from where she sat. It had been evidently fastened 
 from below during the wet weather; but as she gazed the 
 fastenings were removed, the doors were suddenly lifted, 
 and the head and shoulders of a young man emerged from 
 the deck. Partly from her father's description, and partly 
 from the impossibility of its being anybody else, she at 
 once conceived it to be the new lodger. She had time to 
 note that he was young and good looking, graver, perhaps, 
 than became his sudden pantomimic appearance; but before 
 she could observe him closely, he had turned, closed the 
 hatch with a certain familiar dexterity, and walked slowly 
 towards the bows. Even in her slight bewilderment she 
 observed that his step upon the deck seemed different to 
 her father's or the photographer's, and that he laid his 
 hand on various objects with a half-caressing ease and 
 habit. Presently he paused and turned back, and glancing 
 at the galley door for the first time encountered her won- 
 dering eyes. 
 
 It seemed so evident that she had been a curious specta- 
 tor of his abrupt entrance on deck that he was at first dis- 
 concerted and confused. But after a second glance at her 
 he appeared to resume his composure, and advanced a little 
 defiantly towards the galley. 
 
 " I suppose I frightened you, popping up the fore hatch 
 just now ? " 
 
 " The what 1 " asked Rosey. 
 
 "The fore hatch," he repeated impatiently, indicating it 
 with a gesture.
 
 240 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 " And that 's the fore hatch ? " she said abstractedly. 
 "You seem to know ships." 
 
 "Yes a little," he said quietly. "I was below, and 
 unfastened the hatch to come up the quickest way and 
 take a look round. I've just hired a room here," he 
 added explanatorily. 
 
 "I thought so," said Rosey simply; "you're the con- 
 tractor 1 " 
 
 "The contractor! oh yes! You seem to know it all." 
 
 "Father's told me." 
 
 "Oh, he's your father Nott? Certainly. I see now," 
 he continued, looking at her with a half-repressed smile. 
 "Certainly Miss Nott, good-morning," he half added and 
 walked towards the companionway. Something in the 
 direction of his eyes as he turned away made Eosey lift 
 her hands to her head. She had forgotten to remove her 
 father's baleful gift. 
 
 She snatched it off and ran quickly to the companion- 
 way. 
 
 "Sir!" she called. 
 
 The young man turned halfway down the steps and 
 looked up. There was a faint color in her cheeks, and her 
 pretty brown hair was slightly disheveled from the hasty 
 removal of the bonnet. 
 
 "Father 's very particular about strangers being on this 
 deck," she said a little sharply. 
 
 "Oh ah I 'm sorry I intruded." 
 
 "I I thought I 'd tell you," said Rosey, frightened 
 by her boldness into a feeble anticlimax. 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 She came back slowly to the galley and picked up the 
 unfortunate bonnet with a slight sense of remorse. Why 
 should she feel angry with her poor father's unhappy offer- 
 ing? And what business had this strange young man to 
 use the ship so familiarly 1 Yet she was vaguely conscious
 
 A SHIP OF '49 241 
 
 that she and her father, with all their love and their do- 
 mestic experience of it, lacked a certain instinctive ease in 
 its possession that the half-indifferent stranger had shown 
 on first treading its deck. She walked to the hatchway 
 and examined it with a new interest. Succeeding in lift- 
 ing the hatch, she gazed at the lower deck. As she already 
 knew the ladder had long since been removed to make room 
 for one of the partitions, the only way the stranger could 
 have reached it was by leaping to one of the rings. To 
 make sure of this, she let herself down holding on to the 
 rings, and dropped a couple of feet to the deck below. 
 She was in the narrow passage her father had penetrated 
 the previous night. Before her was the door leading to 
 De Ferrieres' loft, always locked. It was silent within; 
 it was the hour when the old Frenchman made his habitual 
 promenade in the city. But the light from the newly 
 opened hatch allowed her to see more of the mysterious 
 recesses of the forward bulkhead than she had known be- 
 fore, and she was startled by observing another yawning 
 hatchway at her feet, from which the closely fitting door 
 had been lifted, and which the new lodger had evidently 
 forgotten to close again. The young girl stooped down 
 and peered cautiously into the black abyss. Nothing was 
 to be seen, nothing heard but the distant gurgle and click 
 of water in some remoter depth. She replaced the hatch 
 and returned by way of the passage to the cabin. 
 
 When her father came home that night she briefly re- 
 counted the interview with the new lodger, and her discov- 
 ery of his curiosity. She did this with a possible increase 
 of her usual shyness and abstraction, and apparently more 
 as a duty than a colloquial recreation. But it pleased Mr. 
 Nott also to give it more than his usual misconception. 
 " Looking round the ship, was he eh, Kosey ? " he said, 
 with infinite archness. "In course, kinder sweepin' 
 round the galley, and offerin' to fetch you wood and water,
 
 242 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 eh ? " Even when the young girl had picked up her book, 
 with the usual faint smile of affectionate tolerance, and 
 then drifted away in its pages, Mr. Nott chuckled audibly. 
 "I reckon old Frenchy didn't come by when the young 
 one was bedevlin' you there." 
 
 " What, father ? " said Eosey, lifting her abstracted eyes 
 to his face. 
 
 At the moment it seemed impossible that any human 
 intelligence could have suspected deceit or duplicity in 
 Eosey's clear gaze. But Mr. Nott's intelligence was super- 
 human. "I was sayin' that Mr. Ferrieres didn't happen 
 in while the young feller was there eh 1 " 
 
 "No, father," answered Eosey, with an effort to follow 
 him out of the pages of her book. " Why ? " 
 
 But Mr. Nott did not reply. Later in the evening he 
 awkwardly waylaid the new lodger before the cabin door as 
 that gentleman would have passed on to his room. 
 
 "I'm afraid," said the young man, glancing at Eosey, 
 "that I intruded upon your daughter to-day. I was a lit- 
 tle curious to see the old ship, and I did n't know what 
 part of it was private. " 
 
 "There ain't no private part to this yer ship that ez 
 'cepting the rooms and lofts," said Mr. Nott authorita- 
 tively. Then subjecting the anxious look of his daughter 
 to his usual faculty for misconception, he added: "Thar 
 ain't no place whar you have n't as much right to go ez any 
 other man; thar ain't any man, furriner or Amerykan, 
 young or old, dyed or undyed, ez hev got any better 
 rights. You hear me, young fellow. Mr. Eenshaw 
 my darter. My darter Mr. Eenshaw. Eosey, give the 
 gentleman a chair. She 's only jest come in from a prom- 
 eynade, and hez jest taken off her bonnet," he added, with 
 an arch look at Eosey and a hurried look around the cabin, 
 as if he hoped to see the missing gift visible to the general 
 eye. "So take a seat a minit, won't ye? "
 
 A SHIP OF '49 243 
 
 But Mr. Kenshaw, after an observant glance at the 
 young girl's abstracted face, brusquely excused himself. 
 "I've got a letter to write," he said, with a half bow to 
 Eosey. " Good-night. " 
 
 He crossed the passage to the room that had been as- 
 signed to him, and closing the door gave way to some irri- 
 tability of temper in his efforts to light the lamp and ad- 
 just his writing materials; for his excuse to Mr. Nott 
 was more truthful than most polite pretexts. He had, 
 indeed, a letter to write, and one that, being yet young in 
 duplicity, the near presence of his host rendered difficult. 
 For it ran as follows : 
 
 DEAR SLEIGHT, As I found I couldn't get a chance 
 to make any examination of the ship except as occasion 
 offered, I just went in to rent lodgings in her from the 
 God-forsaken old ass who owns her, and here I am a 
 tenant for two months. I contracted for that time in case 
 the old fool should sell out to some one else before. Ex- 
 cept that she 's cut up a little between decks by the parti- 
 tions for lofts that that Pike County idiot has put into her, 
 she looks but little changed, and her forehold, as far as 
 I can judge, is intact. It seems that Nott bought her just 
 as she stands, with her cargo half out, but he was n't here 
 when she broke cargo. If anybody else had bought her 
 but this cursed Missourian, who has n't got the hayseed 
 out of his hair, I might have found out something from 
 him, and saved myself this kind of fooling, which is n't in 
 my line. If I could get possession of a loft on the main 
 deck, well forward, just over the forehold, I could satisfy 
 myself in a few hours; but the loft is rented by that crazy 
 Frenchman who parades Montgomery Street every after- 
 noon, and though old Pike County wants to turn him out, 
 I 'm afraid I can't get it for a week to come. 
 
 If anything should happen to me, just you waltz down
 
 244 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 here and corral my things at once, for this old frontier 
 pirate has a way of confiscating his lodgers' trunks. 
 
 Yours, DICK. 
 
 Ill 
 
 If Mr. Renshaw indulged in any further curiosity re- 
 garding the interior of the Pontiac, he did not make his 
 active researches manifest to Rosey. Nor, in spite of her 
 father's invitation, did he again approach the galley a 
 fact which gave her her first vague impression in his favor. 
 He seemed also to avoid the various advances which Mr. 
 Nott appeared impelled to make, whenever they met in the 
 passage, but did so without seemingly avoiding her, and 
 marked his half-contemptuous indifference to the elder 
 Nott by an increase of respect to the young girl. She 
 would have liked to ask him something about ships, and 
 was sure his conversation would have been more interesting 
 than that of old Captain Bower, to whose cabin he had 
 succeeded, who had once told her a ship was the "devil's 
 hencoop." She would have liked also to explain to him 
 that she was not in the habit of wearing a purple bonnet. 
 But her thoughts were presently engrossed by an experi- 
 ence which interrupted the even tenor of her young life. 
 
 She had been, as she afterwards remembered, impressed 
 with a nervous restlessness one afternoon which made it 
 impossible for her to perform her ordinary household du- 
 ties, or even to indulge her favorite recreation of reading or 
 castle-building. She wandered over the ship, and im- 
 pelled by the same vague feeling of unrest, descended to 
 the lower deck and the forward bulkhead, where she had 
 discovered the open hatch. It had not been again dis- 
 turbed, nor was there any trace of further exploration. A 
 Kttle ashamed, she knew not why, of revisiting the scene 
 of Mr. Kenshaw's researches, she was turning back when 
 she noticed that the door which communicated with De
 
 A SHIP OF '49 245 
 
 Ferrieres' loft was partly open. The circumstance was so 
 unusual that she stopped before it in surprise. There was 
 no sound from within; it was the hour when its queer oc- 
 cupant was always absent; he must have forgotten to lock 
 the door, or it had been unfastened by other hands. After 
 a moment of hesitation she pushed it farther open and 
 stepped into the room. 
 
 By the dim light of two port-holes she could see that the 
 floor was strewn and piled with the contents of a broken 
 bale of curled horsehair, of which a few untouched bales 
 still remained against the wall. A heap of morocco skins, 
 some already cut in the form of chair-cushion covers, and 
 a few cushions unfinished and unstuffed, lay in the light 
 of the ports, and gave the apartment the appearance of a 
 cheap workshop. A rude instrument for combining the 
 horsehair, awls, buttons, and thread, heaped on a small 
 bench, showed that active work had been but recently 
 interrupted. A cheap earthenware ewer and basin on the 
 floor, and a pallet made of an open bale of horsehair, on 
 which a ragged quilt and blanket were flung, indicated that 
 the solitary worker dwelt and slept beside his work. 
 
 The truth flashed upon the young girl's active brain, 
 quickened by seclusion and fed by solitary books. She 
 read with keen eyes the miserable secret of her father's 
 strange guest in the poverty-stricken walls, in the mute 
 evidences of menial handicraft performed in loneliness 
 and privation, in this piteous adaptation of an accident to 
 save the conscious shame of premeditated toil. She knew 
 now why he had stammeringly refused to receive her fa- 
 ther's offer to buy back the goods he had given him; she 
 knew now how hardly gained was the pittance that paid 
 his rent and supported his childish vanity and grotesque 
 pride. From a peg in the corner hung the familiar mas- 
 querade that hid his poverty the pearl-gray trousers, 
 the black frock coat, the tall shining hat in hideous con-
 
 246 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 trast to the penury of his surroundings. But if they were 
 here, where was he, and in what new disguise had he es- 
 caped from his poverty ? A vague uneasiness caused her 
 to hesitate and return to the open door. She had nearly 
 reached it when her eye fell on the pallet which it partly 
 illuminated. A singular resemblance in the ragged heap 
 made her draw closer. The faded quilt was a dressing- 
 gown, and clutching its folds lay a white, wasted hand. 
 
 The emigrant childhood of Rose Nott had been more 
 than once shadowed by scalping-knives, and she was ac- 
 quainted with Death. She went fearlessly to the couch, 
 and found that the dressing-gown was only an enwrapping 
 of the emaciated and lifeless body of De Ferrieres. She 
 did not retreat or call for help, but examined him closely. 
 He was unconscious, but not pulseless; he had evidently 
 been strong enough to open the door for air or succor, but 
 had afterwards fallen into a fit on the couch. She flew to 
 her father's locker and the galley fire, returned and shut 
 the door behind her, and by the skillful use, of hot water 
 and whiskey soon had the satisfaction of seeing a faint color 
 take the place of the faded rouge in the ghastly cheeks. 
 She was still chafing his hands when he slowly opened his 
 eyes. With a start, he made a quick attempt to push 
 aside her hand and rise. But she gently restrained him. 
 
 " Eh what ! " he stammered, throwing his face back 
 from hers with an effort and trying to turn it to the wall. 
 
 "You have been ill," she said quietly. "Drink this." 
 
 With his face still turned away he lifted the cup to his 
 chattering teeth. When he had drained it he threw a 
 trembling glance round the room and at the door. 
 
 "There's no one been here but myself," she said 
 quickly. "I happened to see the door open as I passed. 
 I didn't think it worth while to call any one." 
 
 The searching look he gave her turned into an expres- 
 sion of relief, which, to her infinite uneasiness, again feebly
 
 A SHIP OF '49 247 
 
 lightened into one of antiquated gallantry. He drew the 
 dressing-gown around him with an air. 
 
 "Ah! it is a goddess, mademoiselle, that has deigned 
 to enter the cell where where I amuse myself. It is 
 droll, is it not ? I came here to make what you call 
 the experiment of your father's fabric. I make myself 
 ha ! ha ! like a workman. Ah, hah ! the heat, the dark- 
 ness, the plebeian motion make my head to go round. I 
 stagger, I faint, I cry out, I fall. But what of that ? The 
 great God hears my cry and sends me an angel. Voila ! " 
 
 He attempted an easy gesture of gallantry, but overbal- 
 anced himself and fell sideways on the pallet with a gasp. 
 Yet there was so much genuine feeling mixed with his gro- 
 tesque affectation, so much piteous consciousness of the inef- 
 fectiveness of his falsehood, that the young girl, who had 
 turned away, came back and laid her hand upon his arm. 
 
 " You must lie still and try to sleep, " she said gently. 
 "I will return again. Perhaps," she added, "there is 
 some one I can send for ? " 
 
 He shook his head violently. Then in his old manner 
 added, "After mademoiselle no one." 
 
 "I mean" she hesitated; "have you no friends?" 
 
 " Friends, ah ! without doubt. " He shrugged his 
 shoulders. " But mademoiselle will comprehend " 
 
 "You are better now," said Eosey quickly, "and no one 
 need know anything if you don't wish it. Try to sleep. 
 You need not lock the door when I go; I will see that no 
 one comes in." 
 
 He flushed faintly and averted his eyes. "It is too 
 droll, mademoiselle, is it not ? " 
 
 "Of course it is," said Eosey, glancing round the miser- 
 able room. 
 
 "And mademoiselle is an angel." 
 
 He carried her hand to his lips humbly his first 
 purely unaffected action. She slipped through the door, 
 and softly closed it behind her.
 
 248 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 Beaching the upper deck she was relieved to find her 
 father had riot returned, and her absence had been unno- 
 ticed. For she had resolved to keep De Ferrieres' secret 
 to herself from the moment that she had unwittingly dis- 
 covered it, and to do this and still be able to watch over 
 him without her father's knowledge required some caution. 
 She was conscious of his strange aversion to the unfortu- 
 nate man without understanding the reason ; but as she was 
 in the habit of entertaining his caprices more from affec- 
 tionate tolerance of his weakness than reverence of his 
 judgment, she saw no disloyalty to him in withholding a 
 confidence that might be disloyal to another. "It won't 
 do father any good to know it," she said to herself, "and 
 if it did it oughtn't to," she added, with triumphant femi- 
 nine logic. But the impression made upon her by the 
 spectacle she had just witnessed was stronger than any 
 other consideration. The revelation of De Ferrieres' se- 
 cret poverty seemed a chapter from a romance of her own 
 weaving; for a moment it lifted the miserable hero out of 
 the depths of his folly and selfishness. She forgot the 
 weakness of the man in the strength of his dramatic sur- 
 roundings. It partly satisfied a craving she had felt; it 
 was not exactly the story of the ship, as she had dreamed 
 it, but it was an episode in her experience of it that broke 
 its monotony. That she should soon learn, perhaps from 
 De Ferrieres' own lips, the true reason of his strange seclu- 
 sion, and that it involved more than appeared to her now, 
 she never for a moment doubted. 
 
 At the end of an hour she again knocked softly at the 
 door, carrying some light nourishment she had prepared for 
 him. He was asleep, but she was astounded to find that 
 in the interval he had managed to dress himself completely 
 in his antiquated finery. It was a momentary shock to the 
 illusion she had been fostering, but she forgot it in the 
 pitiable contrast between his haggard face and his poma-
 
 A SHIP OF '49 249 
 
 turned hair and beard, the jauntiness of his attire, and the 
 collapse of his invalid figure. When she had satisfied her- 
 self that his sleep was natural, she busied herself softly in 
 arranging the miserable apartment. With a few feminine 
 touches she removed the slovenliness of misery, and placed 
 the loose material and ostentatious evidences of his work 
 on one side. Finding that he still slept, and knowing the 
 importance of this natural medication, she placed the re- 
 freshment she had brought by his side and noiselessly 
 quitted the apartment. Hurrying through the gathering 
 darkness between decks, she once or twice thought she 
 heard footsteps, and paused, but, encountering no one, at- 
 tributed the impression to her over-consciousness. Yet she 
 thought it prudent to go to the galley first, where she lin- 
 gered a few moments before returning to the cabin. On 
 entering she was a little startled at observing a figure seated 
 at her father's desk, but was relieved at finding it was Mr. 
 Kenshaw. 
 
 He rose and put aside the book he had idly picked up. 
 "I am afraid I am an intentional intruder this time, Miss 
 Nott. But I found no one here, and I was tempted to 
 look into this ship-shape little snuggery. You see, the 
 temptation got the better of me." 
 
 His voice and smile were so frank and pleasant, so free 
 from his previous restraint, yet still respectful, so youthful 
 yet manly, that Kosey was affected by them even in her 
 preoccupation. Her eyes brightened and then dropped be- 
 fore his admiring glance. Had she known that the excite- 
 ment of the last few hours had brought a wonderful charm 
 into her pretty face, had aroused the slumbering life of her 
 half-wakened beauty, she would have been more confused. 
 As it was, she was only glad that the young man should 
 turn out to be "nice." Perhaps he might tell her some- 
 thing about ships; perhaps if she had only known him 
 longer she might, with De Ferrieres' permission, have
 
 250 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 shared her confidence with him, and enlisted his sympathy 
 and assistance. She contented herself with showing this 
 anticipatory gratitude in her face as she begged him, with 
 the timidity of a maiden hostess, to resume his seat. 
 
 But Mr. Renshaw seemed to talk only to make her talk, 
 and I am forced to admit that Rosey found this almost as 
 pleasant. It was not long before he was in possession of 
 her simple history from the day of her baby emigration to 
 California to the transfer of her childish life to the old ship, 
 and even of much of the romantic fancies she had woven 
 into her existence there. Whatever ulterior purpose he 
 had in view, he listened as attentively as if her artless 
 chronicle was filled with practical information. Once, 
 when she had paused for breath, he said gravely, "I must 
 ask you to show me over this wonderful ship some day, that 
 I may see it with your eyes." 
 
 "But I think you know it already better than I do," 
 said Rosey, with a smile. 
 
 Mr. Renshaw's brow clouded slightly. "Ah," he said, 
 with a touch of his former restraint; "and why? " 
 
 "Well," said Kosey timidly, "I thought you went round 
 and touched things in a familiar way as if you had handled 
 them before." 
 
 The young man raised his eyes to Rosey 's and kept them 
 there long enough to bring back his gentler expression. 
 " Then, because I found you trying on a very queer bonnet 
 the first day I saw you," he said mischievously, "I ought 
 to believe you were in the habit of wearing one." 
 
 In the first flush of mutual admiration young people are 
 apt to find a laugh quite as significant as a sigh for an ex- 
 pression of sympathetic communion, and this master-stroke 
 of wit convulsed them both. In the midst of it Mr. Nott 
 entered the cabin. But the complacency with which he 
 viewed the evident perfect understanding of the pair was 
 destined to suffer some abatement. Rosey, suddenly con-
 
 A SHIP OF '49 251 
 
 scious that she was in some way participating in the ridicule 
 of her father through his unhappy gift, became embarrassed. 
 Mr. Eenshaw's restraint returned with the presence of 
 the old man. In vain, at first, Abner Nott strove with 
 profound levity to indicate his arch comprehension of the 
 situation, and in vain, later, becoming alarmed he endea- 
 vored, with cheerful gravity, to indicate his utter oblivious- 
 ness of any but a business significance in their tete-a-tete. 
 
 "I oughtn't to hev intruded, Rosey," he said, "when 
 you and the gentleman were talkin' of contracts, mebbe; 
 but don't mind me. I 'm on the fly anyhow, Rosey dear, 
 hevin' to see a man round the corner." 
 
 But even the attitude of withdrawing did not prevent 
 the exit of Renshaw to his apartment and of Rosey to the 
 galley. Left alone in the cabin, Abner Nott felt in the 
 knots and tangles of his beard for a reason. Glancing 
 down at his prodigious boots, which, covered with mud and 
 gravel, strongly emphasized his agricultural origin and 
 gave him a general appearance of standing on his own broad 
 acres, he was struck with an idea. "It 's them boots," he 
 whispered to himself softly; "they somehow don't seem 
 'xactly to trump or follow suit in this yer cabin; they 
 don't hitch into anythin' but jist slosh round loose, and 
 so to speak play it alone. And them young critters nat'- 
 rally feels it and gets out o' the way." Acting upon this 
 instinct with his usual precipitate caution, he at once pro- 
 ceeded to the nearest second-hand shop, and purchasing a 
 pair of enormous carpet slippers, originally the property of 
 a gouty sea-captain, reappeared with a strong suggestion 
 of newly upholstering the cabin. The improvement, how- 
 ever, was fraught with a portentous circumstance. Mr. 
 Nott's footsteps, which usually announced his approach all 
 over the ship, became stealthy and inaudible. 
 
 Meantime Miss Rosey had taken advantage of the ab- 
 sence of her father to visit her patient. To avoid attract-
 
 252 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 ing attention she did not take a light, but groped her way 
 to the lower deck and rapped softly at the door. It was 
 instantly opened by De Ferrieres. He had apparently 
 appreciated the few changes she had already made in the 
 room, and had himself cleared away the pallet, from which 
 he had risen to make two low seats against the wall. Two 
 bits of candle placed on the floor illuminated the beams 
 above, the dressing-gown was artistically draped over the 
 solitary chair, and a pile of cushions formed another seat. 
 With elaborate courtesy he handed Miss Rosey to the 
 chair. He looked pale and weak, though the gravity of 
 the attack had evidently passed. Yet he persisted in re- 
 maining standing. "If I sit," he explained with a ges- 
 ture, "I shall again disgrace myself by sleeping in made- 
 moiselle's presence. Yes! I shall sleep I shall dream 
 and wake to find her gone ! " 
 
 More embarrassed by his recovery than when he was ly- 
 ing helplessly before her, she said hesitatingly that she was 
 glad he was better, and that she hoped he liked the broth. 
 
 "It was manna from heaven, mademoiselle. See, I 
 have taken it all every precious drop. What else could 
 I have done for mademoiselle's kindness? " 
 
 He showed her the empty bowl. A swift conviction 
 came upon her that the man had been suffering from want 
 of food. The thought restored her self-possession even 
 while it brought the tears to her eyes. "I wish you would 
 let me speak to father or some one," she said impul- 
 sively, and stopped. 
 
 A quick and half-insane gleam of terror and suspicion 
 lit up his deep eyes. " For what, mademoiselle ! For an 
 accident that is nothing absolutely nothing, for I am 
 strong and well now see ! " he said tremblingly. " Or 
 for a whim for a folly you may say, that they will mis- 
 understand. No, mademoiselle is good, is wise. She 
 will say to herself, ' I understand, my friend Monsieur de
 
 A SHIP OF '49 253 
 
 Ferrieres for the moment has a secret. He would seem 
 poor, he would take the role of artisan, he would shut 
 himself up in these walls perhaps I may guess why, but 
 it is his secret. I think of it no more. ' " He caught her 
 hand in his with a gesture that he would have made one of 
 gallantry, but that in its tremulous intensity became a pit- 
 eous supplication. 
 
 "I have said nothing, and will say nothing, if you wish 
 it," said Rosey hastily; "but others may find out how you 
 live here. This is not fit work for you. You seem to be 
 a a gentleman. You ought to be a lawyer, or a doctor, 
 or in a bank, " she continued timidly, with a vague enumer- 
 ation of the prevailing degrees of local gentility." 
 
 He dropped her hand. "Ah! does not mademoiselle 
 comprehend that it is because I am a gentleman that there 
 is nothing between it and this ? Look ! " he continued al- 
 most fiercely. "What if I told you it is the lawyer, it is 
 the doctor, it is the banker, that brings me, a gentleman, 
 to this, eh 1 Ah, bah ! What do I say 1 This is honest, 
 what I do! But the lawyer, the banker, the doctor, what 
 are they t " He shrugged his shoulders, and pacing the 
 apartment with a furtive glance at the half -anxious, half- 
 frightened girl, suddenly stopped, dragged a small port- 
 manteau from behind the heap of bales, and opened it. 
 "Look, mademoiselle," he said, tremulously lifting a hand- 
 ful of worn and soiled letters and papers. " Look these 
 are the tools of your banker, your lawyer, your doctor. 
 With this the banker will make you poor, the lawyer will 
 prove you a thief, the doctor will swear you are crazy, eh ? 
 What shall you call the work of a gentleman this " 
 he dragged the pile of cushions forward " or this 1 " 
 
 To the young girl's observant eyes some of the papers 
 appeared to be of a legal or official character, and others 
 like bills of lading, with which she was familiar. Their 
 half-theatrical exhibition reminded her of some play she
 
 254 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 had seen; they might be the clue to some story, or the 
 mere worthless hoardings of some diseased fancy. What- 
 ever they were, De Ferrieres did not apparently care to 
 explain further; indeed, the next moment his manner 
 changed to his old absurd extravagance. "But this is 
 stupid for mademoiselle to hear. What shall we speak 
 of? Ah! what should we speak of in mademoiselle's pre- 
 sence ? " 
 
 "But are not these papers valuable?" asked Eosey, 
 partly to draw her host's thoughts back to their former 
 channel. 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 He paused and regarded the young girl fixedly. " Does 
 mademoiselle think so ? " 
 
 "I don't know," said Kosey. "How should I? " 
 
 "Ah! if mademoiselle thought so if mademoiselle 
 would deign " He stopped again and placed his hand 
 upon his forehead. " It might be so ! " he muttered. 
 
 "I must go now," said Eosey hurriedly, rising with an 
 awkward sense of constraint. "Father will wonder where 
 I am." 
 
 "I shall explain. I will accompany you, mademoi- 
 selle." 
 
 "No, no," said Eosey quickly; "he must not know I 
 have been here ! " She stopped. The honest blush flew 
 to her cheek, and then returned again, because she had 
 blushed. 
 
 De Ferrieres gazed at her with an exalted look. Then 
 drawing himself to his full height, he said, with an exag- 
 gerated and indescribable gesture, " Go, my child, go. Tell 
 your father that you have been alone and unprotected in 
 the abode of poverty and suffering, but that it was in 
 the presence of Armand de Ferrieres." 
 
 He threw open the door with a bow that nearly swept 
 the ground, but did not again offer to take her hand. At
 
 A SHIP OF '49 255 
 
 once impressed and embarrassed at this crowning incongru- 
 ity, her pretty lips trembled between a smile and a cry as 
 she said, "Good-night," and slipped away into the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 Erect and grotesque De Ferrieres retained the same at- 
 titude until the sound of her footsteps was lost, when he 
 slowly began to close the door. But a strong arm arrested 
 it from without, and a large carpeted foot appeared at the 
 bottom of the narrowing opening. The door yielded, and 
 Mr. Abner Nott entered the room. 
 
 IV 
 
 With an exclamation and a hurried glance around him, 
 De Ferrieres threw himself before the intruder. But 
 slowly lifting his large hand, and placing it on his lodger's 
 breast, he quietly overbore the sick man's feeble resistance 
 with an impact of power that seemed almost as moral as 
 it was physical. He did not appear to take any notice 
 of the room or its miserable surroundings; indeed, scarcely 
 of the occupant. Still pushing him, with abstracted eyes 
 and immobile face, tp the chair that Eosey had just quitted, 
 he made him sit down, and then took up his own position 
 on the pile of cushions opposite. His usually underdone 
 complexion was of watery blueness ; but his dull, abstracted 
 glance appeared to exercise a certain dumb, narcotic fasci- 
 nation on his lodger. 
 
 "I mout," said Nott slowly, "hev laid ye out here on 
 sight, without enny warnin', or dropped ye in yer tracks 
 in Montgomery Street, wherever there was room to work 
 a six-shooter in comf'ably. Johnson, of Petaluny 
 him, ye know, ez hed a game eye fetched Flynn comin' 
 outer meetin' one Sunday, and it was only on account of 
 his wife, and she a second-hand one, so to speak. There 
 was Walker, of Contra Costa, plugged that young Sacra- 
 mento chap, whose name I disremember, full o' holes jest
 
 256 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 ez he was sayin' ' good-by ' to his darter. I mout hev 
 done all this if it had settled things to please me. For 
 while you and Flynn and that Sacramento chap ez all about 
 the same sort o' men, Rosey 's a different kind from their 
 sort o' women." 
 
 " Mademoiselle is an angel ! " said De Ferrieres, sud- 
 denly rising, with an excess of extravagance. " A saint ! 
 Look! I cram the lie, ha! down his throat who chal- 
 lenges it." 
 
 "Ef by mam'selle ye mean my Rosey," said Nott, qui- 
 etly laying his powerful hands on De Ferrieres' shoulders, 
 and slowly pinning him down again upon his chair, "ye 're 
 about right, though she ain't mam'selle yet. Ez I was 
 sayin', I might hev killed you off-hand ef I hed thought 
 it would hev been a good thing for Rosey." 
 
 "For her? Ah, well! Look, I am ready," interrupted 
 De Ferrieres, again springing to his feet and throwing 
 open his coat with both hands. " See ! here at my heart 
 fire ! " 
 
 "Ez I was sayin'," continued Nott, once more pressing 
 the excited man down in his chair, "L, might hev wiped ye 
 out and mebbeye wouldn't hev keered or you might 
 hev wiped me out, and I mout hev said, ' Thank' e, ' but 
 I reckon this ain't a case for what 's comf'able for you and 
 me. It 's what 's good for Rosey. And the thing to kal- 
 kilate is, what 's to be done." 
 
 His small round eyes for the first time rested on De 
 Ferrieres' face, and were quickly withdrawn. It was evi- 
 dent that this abstracted look, which had fascinated his 
 lodger, was merely a resolute avoidance of De Ferrieres' 
 glance, and it became apparent later that this avoidance was 
 due to a ludicrous appreciation of De Ferrieres' attractions. 
 
 "And after we've done that we must kalkilate what 
 Rosey is, and what Rosey wants. P'r'aps, ye allow, you 
 know what Rosey is? P'r'aps you've seen her prance
 
 A SHIP OF '49 257 
 
 round in velvet bonnets and white satin slippers, and sich. 
 P'r'aps you 've seen her readin' tracks and v'yages, with- 
 out waitin' to spell a word, or catch her breath. But that 
 ain't the Eosey ez I knows. It 's a little child ez uster 
 crawl in and out the tailboard of a Mizzouri wagon on the 
 alkali-pizoned plains, where there wasn't another bit of 
 God's mercy on yearth to be seen for miles and miles. It 's 
 a little gal as uster hunger and thirst ez quiet and man- 
 nerly ez she now eats and drinks in plenty; whose voice 
 was ez steady with Injins yellin' round yer nest in the 
 leaves on Sweetwater ez in her purty cabin up yonder. 
 That 's the gal ez I knows! That 's the Eosey ez my ole 
 woman puts into my arms one night arter we left Laramie 
 when the fever was high, and sez, ' Abner, ' sez she, ' the 
 chariot is swingin' low for me to-night, but thar ain't room 
 in it for her or you to git in or hitch on. Take her and 
 rare her, so we kin all jine on the other shore,' sez she. 
 And I 'd knowed the other shore was n't no Californy. 
 And that night, p'r'aps, the chariot swung lower than ever 
 before, and my ole woman stepped into it, and left me and 
 Eosey to creep on in the old wagon alone. It 's them kind 
 o' things," added Mr. Nott thoughtfully, "that seem to 
 pint to my killin' you on sight ez the best thing to be 
 done. And yet Eosey mightn't like it." 
 
 He had slipped one of his feet out of his huge carpet 
 slippers; and as he reached down to put it on again, he 
 added calmly, "And ez to yer marrying her it ain't to be 
 done." 
 
 The utterly bewildered expression which transfigured De 
 Ferrieres' face at this announcement was unobserved by 
 Nott's averted eyes, nor did he perceive that his listener 
 the next moment straightened his erect figure and adjusted 
 his cravat. 
 
 "Ef Eosey," he continued, "hez read in v'yages and 
 tracks in Eyetalian and French countries of such chaps ez
 
 258 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 you and kalkilates you 're the right kind to tie to, mebhe 
 it mout hev done if you 'd been livin' over thar in a paliss, 
 but somehow it don't jibe in over here and agree with a 
 ship and that ship lying comf 'able ashore in San Fran- 
 cisco. You don't seem to suit the climate, you see, and 
 your general gait is likely to stampede the other cattle. 
 Agin," said Nott, with an ostentation of looking at his 
 companion, but really gazing on vacancy, "this fixed-up, 
 antique style of yours goes better with them ivy-kivered 
 ruins in Rome and Palmyry that Eosey 's mixed you up 
 with, than it would yere. I ain't say in'," he added, as 
 De Ferrieres was about to speak, "I ain't sayin' ez that 
 child ain't smitten with ye. It ain't no use to lie and say 
 she don't prefer you to her old father, or young chaps of 
 her own age and kind. I 've seed it afor now. I suspi- 
 cioned it afor I seed her slip out o' this place to-night. 
 Thar ! keep your hair on, such ez it is ! " he added, as De 
 Ferrieres attempted a quick deprecatory gesture. "I ain't 
 askin' yer how often she comes here, nor what she sez to 
 you nor you to her. I ain't asked her and I don't ask 
 you. I '11 allow ez you 've settled all the preliminaries and 
 bought her the ring and sich; I'm only askin' you now, 
 kalkilatin' you 've got all the keerds in your own hand, 
 what you '11 take to step out and leave the board ? " 
 
 The dazed look of De Ferrieres might have forced itself 
 even upon Nott's one-idea'd fatuity, had it not been a part 
 of that gentleman's system delicately to look another way 
 at that moment so as not to embarrass his adversary's cal- 
 culation. "Pardon," stammered De Ferrieres, "but I do 
 not comprehend ! " He raised his hand to his head. " I 
 am not well I am stupid. Ah, mon Dieu ! " 
 
 "I ain't sayin'," added Nott more gently, "ez you 
 don't feel bad. It 's nat'ral. But it ain't business. 
 I'm asking you," he continued, taking from his breast 
 pocket a large wallet, "how much you '11 take in cash now,
 
 A SHIP OF '49 259 
 
 and the rest next steamer day, to give up Eosey and leave 
 the ship." 
 
 De Ferrieres staggered to his feet despite Nott's re- 
 straining hand. "To leave mademoiselle and leave the 
 ship ? " he said huskily, " is it not ? " 
 
 "In course. Yer can leave things yer just ez you found 
 'em when you came, you know," continued Nott, for the 
 first time looking round the miserable apartment. "It 's a 
 business job. I '11 take the bales back agin, and you kin 
 reckon up what you 're out, countin' Eosey and loss o' 
 time." 
 
 "He wishes me to go he has said," repeated De 
 Ferrieres to himself thickly. 
 
 "Ef you mean me when you say him, and ez thar ain't 
 any other man around, I reckon you do ' yes ! ' r> 
 
 "And he asks me he this man of the feet and the 
 daughter asks me De Ferrieres what I will take," 
 continued De Ferrieres, buttoning his coat. "No! it is 
 a dream ! " He walked stiffly to the corner where his port- 
 manteau lay, lifted it, and going to the outer door, a cut 
 through the ship's side that communicated with the alley, 
 unlocked it and flung it open to the night. A thick mist 
 like the breath of the ocean flowed into the room. 
 
 "You ask me what I shall take to go," he said, as he 
 stood on the threshold. "I shall take what you cannot 
 give, monsieur, but what I would not keep if I stood here 
 another moment. I take my honor, monsieur, and I 
 take my leave ! " 
 
 For a moment his grotesque figure was outlined in the 
 opening, and then disappeared as if he had dropped into 
 an invisible ocean below. Stupefied and disconcerted at 
 this complete success of his overtures, Abner Nott remained 
 speechless, gazing at the vacant space until a cold influx of 
 the mist recalled him. Then he rose and shuffled quickly 
 to the door.
 
 260 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 "Hi! Ferrers! Look yer Say! Wot 's your hurry, 
 pardner ? " 
 
 But there was no response. The thick mist, which hid 
 the surrounding objects, seemed to deaden all sound also. 
 After a moment's pause he closed the door, but did not 
 lock it, and retreating to the centre of the room remained 
 blinking at the two candles and plucking some perplexing 
 problem from his beard. Suddenly an idea seized him. 
 Eosey ! Where was she 1 Perhaps it had been a precon- 
 certed plan, and she had fled with him. Putting out the 
 lights he stumbled hurriedly through the passage to the 
 gangway above. The cabin door was open; there was the 
 sound of voices Eenshaw's and Eosey 's. Mr. Nott felt 
 relieved but not unembarrassed. He would have avoided 
 his daughter's presence that evening. But even while 
 making this resolution with characteristic infelicity he 
 blundered into the room. Eosey looked up with a slight 
 start; Eenshaw's animated face was changed to its former 
 expression of inward discontent. 
 
 "You came in so like a ghost, father," said Eosey, with 
 a slight peevishness that was new to. her. "And I thought 
 you were in town. Don't go, Mr. Eenshaw." 
 
 But Mr. Eenshaw intimated that he had already tres- 
 passed upon Miss Nott's time, and that no doubt her father 
 wanted to talk with her. To his surprise and annoyance, 
 however, Mr. Nott insisted on accompanying him to his 
 room, and without heeding Eenshaw's cold "Good-night," 
 entered and closed the door behind him. 
 
 "P'r'aps," said Mr. Nott, with a troubled air, "you dis- 
 remember that when you first kem here you asked me if 
 you could hev that 'ere loft that the Frenchman had down- 
 stairs. " 
 
 "No, I don't remember it," said Eenshaw almost rudely. 
 "But," he added, after a pause, with the air of a man 
 obliged to revive a stale and unpleasant memory, " if I did 
 what about it?" "
 
 A SHIP OF '49 261 
 
 "Nuthin', only that you kin hev it to-morrow, ez that 
 'ere Frenchman is movin' out," responded Nott. "I 
 thought you was sorter keen about it when you first kem." 
 
 "Umph! we'll talk about it to-morrow." Something 
 in the look of wearied perplexity with which Mr. Nott 
 was beginning to regard his own malapropos presence ar- 
 rested the young man's attention. "What's the reason 
 you did n't sell this old ship long ago, take a decent house 
 in the town, and bring up your daughter like a lady 1 " he 
 asked, with a sudden blunt good humor. But even this 
 implied blasphemy against the habitation he worshiped did 
 not prevent Mr. Nott from his usual misconstruction of 
 the question. 
 
 "I reckon, now, Eosey 's got high-flown ideas of livin' 
 in a castle with ruins, eh 1 " he said cunningly. 
 
 "Haven't heard her say," returned Eenshaw abruptly. 
 " Good-night. " 
 
 Firmly convinced that Eosey had been unable to con- 
 ceal from Mr. Eenshaw the influence of her dreams of a 
 castellated future with De Ferrieres, he regained the cabin. 
 Satisfying himself that his daughter had retired, he sought 
 his own couch. But not to sleep. The figure of De 
 Ferrieres, standing in the ship side and melting into the 
 outer darkness, haunted him, and compelled him in dreams 
 to rise and follow him through the alleys and byways of 
 the crowded city. Again, it was a part of his morbid sus- 
 picion that he now invested the absent man with a poten- 
 tial significance and an unknown power. What deep-laid 
 plans might he not form to possess himself of Eosey, of 
 which he, Abner Nott, would be ignorant? Unchecked by 
 the restraint of a father's roof, he would now give full 
 license to his power. " Said he 'd take his honor with 
 him," muttered Abner to himself in the dim watches of 
 the night; "lookin' at that sayin' in its right light, it 
 looks bad."
 
 262 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 V 
 
 The elaborately untruthful account which Mr. Nott gave 
 his daughter of De Ferrieres' sudden departure was more 
 fortunate than his usual equivocations. While it disap- 
 pointed and slightly mortified her, it did not seem to her 
 inconsistent with what she already knew of him. "Said 
 his doctor had ordered him to quit town under an hour, 
 owing to a comin' attack of hay-fever, and he had a friend 
 from furrin parts waitin' him at the Springs, Kosey," ex- 
 plained Nott, hesitating between his desire to avoid his 
 daughter's eyes and his wish to observe her countenance. 
 
 "Was he worse? I mean did he look badly, father?" 
 inquired Hosey thoughtfully. 
 
 "I reckon not exactly bad. Kinder looked as if he 
 mout be worse soon ef he didn't hump hisself." 
 
 " Did you see him ? in his room ? " asked Rosey anx- 
 iously. Upon the answer to this simple question depended 
 the future confidential relations of father and daughter. If 
 her father had himself detected the means by which his 
 lodger existed, she felt that her own obligations to secrecy 
 had been removed. But Mr. Nott's answer disposed of 
 this vain hope. It was a response after his usual fashion 
 to the question he imagined she artfully wished to ask, 
 i. e., if he had discovered their rendezvous of the previous 
 night. This it was part of his peculiar delicacy to ignore. 
 Yet his reply showed that he had been unconscious of the 
 one miserable secret that he might have read easily. 
 
 "I was there an hour or so him and me alone dis- 
 cussin' trade. I reckon he 's got a good thing outer that 
 curled horsehair, for I see he 's got in an invoice o' cush- 
 ions. I 've stowed 'em all in the forrard bulkhead until 
 he sends for 'em, ez Mr. Renshaw hez taken the loft." 
 
 But although Mr. Eenshaw had taken the loft, he did 
 not seem in haste to occupy it. He spent part of the morn-
 
 A SHIP OF '49 263 
 
 ing in uneasily pacing his room, .in occasional sallies into 
 the street from which he purposelessly returned, and once 
 or twice in distant and furtive contemplation of Eosey at 
 work in the galley. This last observation was not unno- 
 ticed hy the astute Nott, who at once conceiving that he 
 was nourishing a secret and hopeless passion for Eosey, 
 began to consider whether it was not his duty to warn the 
 young man of her preoccupied affections. But Mr. Een- 
 shaw's final disappearance obliged him to withhold his con- 
 fidence till morning. 
 
 This time Mr. Eenshaw left the ship with the evident 
 determination of some settled purpose. He walked rapidly 
 until he reached the counting-house of Mr. Sleight, when 
 he was at once shown into a private office. In a few mo- 
 ments Mr. Sleight, a brusque but passionless man, joined 
 him. 
 
 "Well," said Sleight, closing the door carefully. "What 
 news ? " 
 
 "None," said Eenshaw bluntly. "Look here, Sleight," 
 he added, turning to him suddenly. "Let me out of this 
 game. I don't like it." 
 
 "Does that mean you've found nothing?" asked 
 Sleight sarcastically. 
 
 "It means that I haven't looked for anything, and that 
 I don't intend to without the full knowledge of that d d 
 fool who owns the ship." 
 
 "You've changed your mind since you wrote that let- 
 ter," said Sleight coolly, producing from a drawer the note 
 already known to the reader. Eenshaw mechanically ex- 
 tended his hand to take it. Mr. Sleight dropped the letter 
 back into the drawer, which he quietly locked. The 
 apparently simple act dyed Mr. Eenshaw 's cheek with 
 color, but it vanished quickly, and with it any' token of 
 his previous embarrassment. He looked at Sleight with 
 the convinced air of a resolute man who had at last taken
 
 264 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 a disagreeable step, but was willing to stand by the conse- 
 quences. 
 
 "I have changed my mind," he said coolly. "I found 
 out that it was one thing to go down there as a skilled 
 prospector might go to examine a mine that was to be val- 
 ued according to his report of the indications, but that it 
 was entirely another thing to go and play the spy in a 
 poor devil's house in order to buy something he didn't 
 know he was selling and would n't sell if he did." 
 
 "And something that the man he bought of didn't 
 think of selling; something he himself never paid for, and 
 never expected to buy," sneered Sleight. 
 
 "But something that we expect to buy from our know- 
 ledge of all this, and it is that which makes all the differ- 
 ence." 
 
 "But you knew all this before." 
 
 "I never saw it in this light before. I never thought 
 of it until I was living there face to face with the old fool 
 I was intending to overreach. I never was sure of it un- 
 til this morning, when he actually turned out one of his 
 lodgers that I might have the very room I required to play 
 off our little game in comfortably. When he did that, I 
 made up my mind to drop the whole thing, and I 'm here 
 to do it." 
 
 " And let somebody else take the responsibility with 
 the percentage unless you 've also felt it your duty to 
 warn Nott too," said Sleight, with a sneer. 
 
 "You only dare say that to me, Sleight," said Renshaw 
 quietly, "because you have in that drawer an equal evi- 
 dence of my folly and my confidence; but if you are wise 
 you will not presume too far on either. Let us see how 
 we stand. Through the yarn of a drunken captain and a 
 mutinous sailor you became aware of an unclaimed ship- 
 ment of treasure concealed in an unknown ship that entered 
 this harbor. You are enabled, through me, to corroborate
 
 A SHIP OF '49 265 
 
 some facts and identify the ship. You proposed to me, as 
 a speculation, to identify the treasure if possible before 
 you purchased the ship. I accepted the offer without con- 
 sideration; on consideration I now decline it, but without 
 prejudice or loss to any one but myself. As to your insin- 
 uation I need not remind you that my presence here to- 
 day refutes it. I would not require your permission to 
 make a much better bargain with a good-natured fool like 
 Nott than I could with you. Or if I did not care for the 
 business I could have warned the girl " 
 
 " The girl what girl ? " 
 
 Kenshaw bit his lip, but answered boldly: "The old 
 man's daughter a poor girl whom this act would rob as 
 well as her father." 
 
 Sleight looked at his companion attentively. "You 
 might have said so at first, and let up on this camp-meetin' 
 exhortation. Well, then admitting you 've got the old 
 man and the young girl on the same string, and that 
 you 've played it pretty low down in the short time you 've 
 been there, I suppose, Dick Eenshaw, I've got to see 
 your bluff. Well, how much is it? What's the figure 
 you and she have settled on ? " 
 
 For an instant Mr. Sleight was in physical danger. 
 But before he had finished speaking Eenshaw 's quick 
 sense of the ludicrous had so far overcome his first indig- 
 nation as to enable him even to admire the perfect moral 
 insensibility of his companion. As he rose and walked to- 
 wards the door, he half wondered that he had ever treated 
 the affair seriously. With a smile he replied : 
 
 "Far from bluffing, Sleight, I am throwing my cards on 
 the table. Consider that I 've passed out. Let some other 
 man take my hand. Rake down the pot if you like, old 
 man, /leave for Sacramento to-night. Adios." 
 
 When the door had closed behind him Mr. Sleight sum- 
 moned his clerk.
 
 266 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 "Is that petition for grading Pontiac Street ready? " 
 
 "I've seen the largest property-holders, sir; they're 
 only waiting for you to sign first. " Mr. Sleight paused and 
 then affixed his signature to the paper his clerk laid before 
 him. " Get the other names and send it up at once. " 
 
 "If Mr. Nott doesn't sign, sir?" 
 
 "No matter. He will be assessed all the same." Mr. 
 Sleight took up his hat. 
 
 "The Lascar seaman that was here the other day has 
 been wanting to see you, sir. I said you were busy." 
 
 Mr. Sleight put down his hat. " Send him up. " 
 
 Nevertheless Mr. Sleight sat down and at once abstracted 
 himself so completely as to be apparently in utter oblivioii 
 of the man who entered. He was lithe and Indian-look- 
 ing; bearing in dress and manner the careless slouch with, 
 out the easy frankness of a sailor. 
 
 "Well!" said Sleight, without looking up. 
 
 "I was only wantin' to know ef you had any news for 
 me, boss ? " 
 
 " News ? " echoed Sleight, as if absently ; " news of what ? " 
 
 " That little matter of the Pontiac we talked about, boss, " 
 returned the Lascar, with an uneasy servility in the whites 
 of his teeth and eyes. 
 
 "Oh," said Sleight, "that 's played out. It 's a regular 
 fraud. It 's an old forecastle yarn, my man, that you 
 can't reel off in the cabin." 
 
 The sailor's face darkened. 
 
 " The man who was looking into it has thrown the whole 
 thing up. I tell you it 's played out! " repeated Sleight, 
 without raising his head. 
 
 "It's true, boss every word," said the Lascar, with 
 an appealing insinuation that seemed to struggle hard with 
 savage earnestness. "You can swear me, boss; I would n't 
 lie to a gentleman like you. Your man has n't half looked, 
 or else it must be there, or "
 
 A SHIP OF '49 267 
 
 "That 's just it," said Sleight slowly; "who 's to know 
 that your friends haven't been there already that seems 
 to have been your style." 
 
 " But no one knew it but me, until I told you, I swear 
 to God. I ain't lying, boss, and I ain't drunk. Say 
 don't give it up, boss. That man of yours likely don't 
 believe it, because he don't know anything about it. I do 
 I could find it." 
 
 A silence followed. Mr. Sleight remained completely 
 absorbed in his papers for some moments. Then glancing 
 at the Lascar, he took his pen, wrote a hurried note, folded 
 it, addressed it, and holding it between his fingers, leaned 
 back in his chair. 
 
 "If you choose to take this note to my man, he may 
 give it another show. Mind, I don't say that he will. 
 He 's going to Sacramento to-night, but you could go down 
 there and find him before he starts. He 's got a room 
 there, I believe. While you 're waiting for him, you might 
 keep your eyes open to satisfy yourself." 
 
 "Ay, ay, sir," said the sailor, eagerly endeavoring to 
 catch the eye of his employer. But Mr. Sleight looked 
 straight before him, and he turned to go. 
 
 "The Sacramento boat goes at nine," said Mr. Sleight 
 quietly. 
 
 This time their glances met, and the Lascar's eye glis- 
 tened with subtle intelligence. The next moment he was 
 gone, and Mr. Sleight again became absorbed in his papers. 
 
 Meanwhile Kenshaw was making his way back to the 
 Pontiac with that light-hearted optimism that had charac- 
 terized his parting 'with Sleight. It was this quality of his 
 nature, fostered perhaps by the easy civilization in which 
 he moved, that had originally drawn him into relations 
 with the man he had just quitted ; a quality that had been 
 troubled and darkened by those relations, yet, when they 
 were broken, at once returned. It consequently did not
 
 268 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 occur to him that he had only selfishly compromised with 
 the difficulty ; it seemed to him enough that he had with- 
 drawn from a compact he thought dishonorahle ; he was 
 not called upon to betray his partner in that compact merely 
 to benefit others. He had been willing to incur suspicion 
 and loss to reinstate himself in his self-respect, more he 
 could not do without justifying that suspicion. The view 
 taken by Sleight was, after all, that which most business 
 men would take which even the unbusinesslike Nott 
 would take which the girl herself might be tempted to 
 listen to. Clearly he could do nothing but abandon the 
 Pontiac and her owner to the fate he could not in honor 
 avert. And even that fate was problematical. It did not 
 follow that the treasure was still concealed in the Pontiac, 
 nor that Nott would be willing to sell her. He would 
 make some excuse to Nott he smiled to think he would 
 probably be classed in the long line of absconding tenants 
 he would say good- by to Kosey, and leave for Sacramento 
 that night. He ascended the stairs to the gangway with 
 a freer breast than when he first entered the ship. 
 
 Mr. Nott was evidently absent ; and after a quick glance 
 at the half-open cabin door, Kenshaw turned towards the 
 galley. But Miss Rosey was not in her accustomed haunt, 
 and with a feeling of disappointment, which seemed in- 
 consistent with so slight a cause, he crossed the deck im- 
 patiently and entered his room. He was about to close 
 the door when the prolonged rustle of a trailing skirt in 
 the passage attracted his attention. The sound was so 
 unlike that made by any garment worn by Rosey that he 
 remained motionless, with his hand on the door. The 
 sound approached nearer, and the next moment a white 
 veiled figure with a trailing skirt slowly swept past the 
 room. Kenshaw's pulses halted for an instant in half- 
 superstitious awe. As the apparition glided on and van- 
 ished in the cabin door he could only see that it was the
 
 A SHIP OF '49 269 
 
 form of a beautiful and graceful woman but nothing 
 more. Bewildered and curious, he forgot himself so far 
 as to follow it and impulsively entered the cabin. The 
 figure turned, uttered a little cry, threw the veil aside, and 
 showed the half-troubled, half-blushing face of Eosey. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, " stammered Eenshaw ; "I 
 didn't know it was you." 
 
 " I was trying on some things, " said Eosey, recovering 
 her composure and pointing to an open trunk that seemed 
 to contain a theatrical wardrobe "some things father gave 
 me long ago. I wanted to see if there was anything I 
 could use. I thought I was all alone in the ship, but 
 fancying I heard a noise forward, I came out to see what it 
 was. I suppose- it must have been you. " 
 
 She raised her clear eyes to his, with a slight touch of 
 womanly reserve that was so incompatible with any vulgar 
 vanity or girlish coquetry that he became the more embar- 
 rassed. Her dress, too, of a slightly antique shape, rich 
 but simple, seemed to reveal and accent a certain repose of 
 gentle womanliness, that he was now wishing to believe he 
 had always noticed. Conscious of a superiority in her 
 that now seemed to change their relations completely, he 
 alone remained silent, awkward, and embarrassed before 
 the girl who had taken care of his room, and who cooked 
 in the galley! What he had thoughtlessly considered a 
 merely vulgar business intrigue against her stupid father, 
 now to his extravagant fancy assumed the proportions of 
 a sacrilege to herself. 
 
 "You've had your revenge, Miss Nott, for the fright 
 I once gave you," he said a little uneasily, "for you quite 
 startled me just now as you passed. I began to think the 
 Pontiac was haunted. I thought you were a ghost. I 
 don't know why such a ghost should frighten anybody," 
 he went on with a desperate attempt to recover his posi- 
 tion by gallantry. "Let me see that's Donna Elvira's 
 dress is it not ? "
 
 270 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 "I don't think that was the poor woman's name," said 
 Kosey simply; "she died of yellow fever at New Orleans 
 as Signora Somebody." 
 
 Her ignorance seemed to Mr. Kenshaw so plainly to 
 partake more of the nun than the provincial, that he hesi- 
 tated to explain to her that he meant the heroine of an 
 opera. 
 
 "It seems dreadful to put on the poor thing's clothes, 
 doesn't it? " she added. 
 
 Mr. Renshaw's eyes showed so plainly that he thought 
 otherwise, that she drew a little austerely towards the door 
 of her stateroom. 
 
 "I must change these things before any one comes," 
 she said dryly. 
 
 "That means I must go, I suppose. But couldn't you 
 let me wait here or in the gangway until then, Miss Nott? 
 I am going away to-night, and I mayn't see you again." 
 He had not intended to say this, but it slipped from his 
 embarrassed tongue. She stopped with her hand on the 
 door. 
 
 " You are going away ? " 
 
 "I think I must leave to-night. I have some im- 
 portant business in Sacramento." 
 
 She raised her frank eyes to his. The unmistakable 
 look of disappointment that he saw in them gave his heart 
 a sudden throb and sent the quick blood to his cheeks. 
 
 "It's too bad," she said abstractedly. "Nobody ever 
 seems to stay here long. Captain Bower promised to tell 
 me all about the ship, and he went away the second week. 
 The photographer left before he finished the picture of the 
 Pontiac; Monsieur de Ferrieres has only just gone; and 
 now you are going." 
 
 "Perhaps, unlike them, I have finished my season of 
 usefulness here," he replied, with a bitterness he would 
 have recalled the next moment. But Rosey, with a faint
 
 A SHIP OF '49 271 
 
 sigh, saying, "I won't be long," entered the stateroom and 
 closed the door behind her. 
 
 Eenshaw pulled at the long silken threads of his mus- 
 tache and bit his lip until it smarted. Why had he not 
 gone at once ? Why was it necessary to say he might not 
 see her again and if he had said it, why should he add 
 anything more ? What was he waiting for now ? To en- 
 deavor to prove to her that he really bore no resemblance 
 to Captain Bower, the photographer, the crazy French- 
 man De Ferrieres ? Or would he be forced to tell her that 
 he was running away from a conspiracy to defraud her 
 father merely for something to say? Was there ever 
 such folly ? Eosey was " not long, " as she had said, but he 
 was beginning to pace the narrow cabin impatiently when 
 the door opened and she returned. 
 
 She had resumed her ordinary calico gown, but such was 
 the impression left upon Eenshaw's fancy that she seemed 
 to wear it with a new grace. At any other time he might 
 have recognized the change as due to a new corset, which 
 strict veracity compels me to record Eosey had adopted 
 for the first time that morning. Howbeit, her slight co- 
 quetry seemed to have passed, for she closed the open trunk 
 with a return of her old listless air, and sitting on it rested 
 her elbows on her knees and her oval chin in her hands. 
 
 "I wish you would do me a favor," she said, after a re- 
 flective pause. 
 
 "Let me know what it is and it shall be done," replied 
 Eenshaw quickly. 
 
 "If you should come across Monsieur de Ferrieres, or 
 hear of him, I wish you would let me know. He was 
 very poorly when he left here, and I should like to know 
 if he is better. He did n't say where he was going. At 
 least, he didn't tell father; but I fancy he and father don't 
 ie." 
 I shall be very glad of having even that opportunity
 
 272 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 of making you remember me, Miss Nott," returned Een- 
 shaw, with a faint smile. "I don't suppose either that 
 it would be very difficult to get news of your friend 
 everybody seems to know him." 
 
 "But not as I did," said Eosey, with an abstracted little 
 
 Mr. Eenshaw opened his brown eyes upon her. Was 
 he mistaken 1 Was this romantic girl only a little coquette 
 playing her provincial airs on him? "You say he and 
 your father didn't agree? That means, I suppose, that 
 you and he agreed? and that was the result." 
 
 "I don't think father knew anything about it," said 
 Kosey simply. 
 
 Mr. Eenshaw rose. And this was what he had been 
 waiting to hear! "Perhaps," he said grimly, "you would 
 also like news of the photographer and Captain Bower, or 
 did your father agree with them better ? " 
 
 "No," said Eosey quietly. She remained silent for a 
 moment, and, lifting her lashes, said, "Father always 
 seemed to agree with you, and that " she hesitated. 
 
 "That 's why you don't." 
 
 "I didn't say that," said Eosey, with an incongruous 
 increase of coldness and color. "I only meant to say it 
 was that which makes it seem so hard you should go now. " 
 
 Notwithstanding his previous determination Eenshaw 
 found himself sitting down again. Confused and pleased, 
 wishing he had said more or less he said nothing, and 
 Eosey was forced to continue. 
 
 "It's strange, isn't it but father was urging me this 
 morning to make a visit to some friends at the old Eanch. 
 I didn't want to go. I like it much better here." 
 
 "But you cannot bury yourself here forever, Miss Nott," 
 said Eenshaw, with a sudden burst of honest enthusiasm. 
 " Sooner or later you will be forced to go where you will 
 be properly appreciated, where you will be admired and
 
 A SHIP OF '49 273 
 
 courted, where your slightest wish will be law. Believe 
 me, without flattery, you don't know your own power." 
 
 "It doesn't seem strong enough to keep even the little 
 I like here," said Eosey, with a slight glistening of the 
 eyes. "But," she added hastily, "you don't know how 
 much the dear old ship is to me. It 's the only home 
 I think I ever had." 
 
 "But the Eanch? " said Eenshaw. 
 
 "The Eanch seemed to be only the old wagon halted in 
 the road. It was a very little improvement on outdoors," 
 said Eosey, with a little shiver. " But this is so cosy and 
 snug, and yet so strange and foreign. Do you know I 
 think I began to understand why I like it so since you 
 taught me so much about ships and voyages. Before that 
 I only learned from books. Books deceive you, I think 
 more than people do. Don't you think so? " 
 
 She evidently did not notice the quick flush that cov- 
 ered his cheeks and apparently dazzled his troubled eyelids, 
 for she went on confidentially : 
 
 "I was thinking of you yesterday. I was sitting by the 
 galley door, looking forward. You remember the first 
 day I saw you when you startled me by coming up out of 
 the hatch?" 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't think of that," said Eenshaw, 
 with more earnestness than he would have made apparent. 
 
 "I don't want to, either," said Eosey gravely, "for 
 I 've had a strange fancy about it. I saw once, when I was 
 younger, a picture in a print shop in Montgomery Street 
 that haunted me. I think it was called ' The Pirate. ' 
 There were a number of wicked-looking sailors lying around 
 the deck, and coming out of the hatch was one figure, with 
 his hands on the deck and a cutlass in his mouth." 
 
 "Thank you," said Eenshaw. 
 
 "You don't understand. He was horrid-looking, not at 
 all like you. I never thought of him when I first saw
 
 274 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 you; but the other day I thought how dreadful it would 
 have been if some one like him and not like you had come 
 up then. That made me nervous sometimes of being alone. 
 I think father is too. He often goes about stealthily at 
 night, as if he was watching for something." 
 
 Eenshaw's face grew suddenly dark. Could it be pos- 
 sible that Sleight had always suspected him, and set spies 
 to watch or was he guilty of some double intrigue ? 
 
 "He thinks," continued Eosey, with a faint smile, 
 "that some one is looking round the ship, and talks of set- 
 ting bear- traps. I hope you 're not mad, Mr. Eenshaw," 
 she added, suddenly catching sight of his changed expres- 
 sion, "at my foolishness in saying you reminded me of the 
 pirate. I meant nothing." 
 
 "I know you're incapable of meaning anything but 
 good to anybody, Miss Nott, perhaps to me more than I 
 deserve," said Eenshaw, with a sudden burst of feeling. 
 "I wish I wish you would do me a favor. You 
 asked me one just now." He had taken her hand. It 
 seemed so like a mere illustration of his earnestness, that 
 she did not withdraw it. "Your father tells you every- 
 thing. If he has any offer to dispose of the ship, will you 
 write to me at once before anything is concluded ? " He 
 winced a little the sentence of Sleight, "What's the 
 figure you and she have settled on ? " flashed across his 
 mind. He scarcely noticed that Eosey had withdrawn her 
 hand coldly. 
 
 "Perhaps you had better speak to father, as it is his 
 business. Besides, I shall not be here. I shall be at the 
 Eanch." 
 
 "But you said you didn't want to go." 
 
 "I've changed my mind," said Eosey listlessly. "I 
 shall go to-night." 
 
 She rose as if to indicate that the interview was ended. 
 With an overpowering instinct that his whole future happi-
 
 A SHIP OF '49 275 
 
 ness depended upon his next act, he made a step towards 
 her, with eager, outstretched hands. But she slightly lifted 
 her own with a warning gesture. " I hear father coming 
 you will have a chance to talk business with him," she 
 said, and vanished into her stateroom. 
 
 VI 
 
 The heavy tread of Abner Nott echoed in the passage. 
 Confused and embarrassed, Renshaw remained standing at 
 the door that had closed upon Rosey as her father entered 
 the cabin. Providence, which always fostered Mr. Nott's 
 characteristic misconceptions, left that perspicacious parent 
 but one interpretation of the situation. Rosey had evi- 
 dently just informed Mr. Renshaw that she loved another! 
 
 "I was just saying good-by to Miss Nbtt," said Ren- 
 shaw, hastily regaining his composure with an effort. "I 
 am going to Sacramento to-night, and will not return. 
 I" 
 
 "In course, in course," interrupted Nott soothingly; 
 "that 's wot you say now, and that 's wot you allow to do. 
 That 's wot they allus do." 
 
 "I mean," said Renshaw, reddening at what he con- 
 ceived to be an allusion to the absconding propensities of 
 Nott's previous tenants, "I mean that you shall keep 
 the advance to cover any loss you might suffer through my 
 giving up the rooms." 
 
 "Certingly," said Nott, laying his hand with a large 
 sympathy on Renshaw's shoulder; "but we'll drop that 
 just now. We won't swap bosses in the middle of the 
 river. We '11 square up accounts in your room, " he added, 
 raising his voice that Rosey might overhear him, after a 
 preliminary wink at the young man. " Yes, sir, we '11 
 just square up and settle in there. Come along, Mr. Ren- 
 shaw." Pushing him with paternal gentleness from the 
 cabin, with his hand still upon his shoulder, he followed
 
 2.76 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 him into the passage. Half annoyed at his familiarity, 
 yet not altogether displeased by this illustration of Rosey's 
 belief of his preference, Renshaw wonderingly accompanied 
 him. Nott closed the door, and pushing the young man into 
 a chair, deliberately seated himself at the table opposite. 
 "It 's jist as well that Rosey reckons that you and me is 
 settlin' our accounts," he began cunningly, "and mebbe 
 it 's just ez well ez she should reckon you 're goin' away." 
 
 "But I am going," interrupted Renshaw impatiently. 
 "I leave to-night." 
 
 "Surely, surely," said Nott gently, "that's wot you 
 kalkilate to do; that's just nat'ral in a young feller. 
 That 's about what I reckon I'd hev done to her mother if 
 any thin' like this hed ever cropped up, which it did n't. 
 Not but what Almiry Jane had young fellers enough round 
 her, but, 'cept ole Judge Peter, ez was lamed in the War 
 of 1812, there ain't no similarity ez I kin see," he added 
 musingly. 
 
 "I am afraid I can't see any similarity either, Mr. 
 Nott," said Renshaw, struggling between a dawning sense 
 of some impending absurdity and his growing passion for 
 Rosey. "For Heaven's sake, speak out if you 've got any- 
 thing to say." 
 
 Mr. Nott leaned forward and placed his large hand on 
 the young man's shoulder. "That's it. That's what I 
 sed to myself when I seed how things were pintin'. ' Speak 
 out,' sez I, ' Abner! Speak out if you 've got anything to 
 say. You kin trust this yer Mr. Renshaw. He ain't the 
 kind of man to creep into the bosom of a man's ship for 
 pupposes of his own. He ain't a man that would hunt 
 round until he discovered a poor man's treasure, and then 
 try to rob ' " 
 
 " Stop ! " said Renshaw, with a set face and darkening 
 eyes. " What treasure ? what man .are you speaking of 1 " 
 
 "Why Rosey and Mr. Ferrers," returned Nott simply.
 
 A SHIP OF '49 277 
 
 Kenshaw sank into his seat again. But the expression 
 of relief which here passed swiftly over his face gave way 
 to one of uneasy interest as Nott went on. 
 
 "PVaps it's a little highfalutin' talkin' of Rosey ez a 
 treasure. But considering Mr. Renshaw, ez she 's the only 
 prop'ty I 've kept by me for seventeen years ez hez paid 
 interest and increased in valoo, it ain't sayin' too much 
 to call her so. And ez Ferrers knows this, he oughter 
 been content with gougin' me in that horsehair spec, 
 without goin' for Rosey. P'r'aps yer surprised at hearing 
 me speak o' my own flesh and blood ez if I was talkin' 
 boss-trade, but you and me is bus'ness men, Mr. Renshaw, 
 and we discusses ez such. We ain't goin' to slosh 
 round and slop over in po'try and sentiment," continued 
 Nott, with a tremulous voice, and a hand that slightly 
 shook on Renshaw's shoulder. "We ain't goin' to git up 
 and sing, ' Thou 'st larned to love another thou 'st broken 
 every vow we 've parted from each other and my bosom 's 
 lonely now oh is it well to sever such hearts as ourn for- 
 ever kin I forget thee never farewell farewell farewell.' 
 Ye never happened to hear Jim Baker sing that at the 
 moosic hall on Dupont Street, Mr. Renshaw," continued 
 Mr. Nott enthusiastically, when he had recovered from 
 that complete absence of punctuation which alone suggested 
 verse to his intellect. " He sorter struck water down here," 
 indicating his heart, "every time." 
 
 "But what has Miss Nott to do with M. de Ferrieres? " 
 asked Renshaw, with a faint smile. 
 
 Mr. !Nott regarded him with dumb, round, astonished 
 eyes. " Hez n't she told yer 1" 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "And she didn't let on anythin' about him?" he con- 
 tinued feebly. 
 
 " She said she 'd like to know where " He stopped, 
 with the reflection that he was betraying her confidences.
 
 278 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 A dim foreboding of some new form of deceit, to which 
 even the man before him was a consenting party, almost 
 paralyzed Nott's faculties. "Then she didn't tell yer that 
 she and Ferrers was sparkin' and keepin' kimpany to- 
 gether; that she and him was engaged, and was kalkilatin' 
 to run way to furrin parts; that she cottoned to him more 
 than to the ship or her father 1 " 
 
 "She certainly did not, and I shouldn't believe it," said 
 Eenshaw quickly. 
 
 Nott smiled. He was amused; he astutely recognized 
 the usual trustfulness of love and youth. There was 
 clearly no deceit here ! Eenshaw 's attentive eyes saw the 
 smile, and his brow darkened. 
 
 "I like to hear yer say that, Mr. Eenshaw," said Nott^ 
 "and it 's no more than Kosey deserves, ez it 's suthing on. 
 nat'ral and spell-like that 's come over her through Ferrers. 
 It ain't my Kosey. But it 's Gospel truth, whether she's 
 bewitched or not; whether it's them damn fool stories 
 she reads and it 's like ez not he 's just the kind o' 
 snipe to write 'em hisself, and sorter advertise hisself, 
 don't yer see she's allus stuck up for him. They've 
 had clandesent interviews, and when I taxed him with it 
 he ez much ez allowed it was so, and reckoned he must 
 leave, so ez he could run her off, you know kinder 
 stampede her with ' honor.' Them 's his very words." 
 
 "But that is all past; he is gone, and Miss Nott does 
 not even know where he is ! " said Eenshaw, with a laugh, 
 which, however, concealed a vague uneasiness. 
 
 Mr. Nott rose and opened the door carefully. When 
 he had satisfied himself that no one was listening, he 
 came back and said in a whisper, "That 's a lie. Not ez 
 Eosey means to lie, but it 's a trick he 's put upon that 
 poor child. That man, Mr. Eenshaw, hez been hangin' 
 round the Pontiac ever since. I 've seed him twice with 
 my own eyes pass the cabin windys. More than that,
 
 A SHIP OF '49 279 
 
 I 've heard strange noises at night, and seen strange faces 
 in the alley over yer. And only jist now ez I kem in I 
 ketched sight of a furrin-lookin' Chinee nigger slinking 
 round the back door of what useter be Ferrers' loft." 
 
 "Did he look like a sailor?" asked Renshaw quickly, 
 with a return of his former suspicion. 
 
 "Not more than I do," said Nott, glancing complacently 
 at his pea-jacket. "He had rings on his yeers like a 
 wench." 
 
 Mr. Renshaw started. But seeing Nott's eyes fixed on 
 him, he said lightly, "But what have these strange faces 
 and this strange man probably only a Lascar sailor out 
 of a job to do with Ferrieres? " 
 
 " Friends o' his feller furrin citizens spies on Rosey, 
 don't you see? But they can't play the old man, Mr. 
 Eenshaw. I 've told Eosey she must make a visit to the 
 old Ranch. Once I 've got her thar safe, I reckon I kin 
 manage Mr. Ferrers and any number of Chinee niggers he 
 kin bring along." 
 
 Renshaw remained for a few moments lost in thought. 
 Then rising suddenly, he grasped Mr. Nott's hand with 
 a frank smile but determined eyes. "I haven't got the 
 hang of this, Mr. Nott the whole thing gets me ! I 
 only know that I 've changed my mind. I 'm not going to 
 Sacramento. I shall stay here, old man, until I see you 
 safe through the business, or my name 's not Dick Ren- 
 shaw. There's my hand on it! Don't say a word. 
 Maybe it is no more than I ought to do perhaps not half 
 enough. Only remember, not a word of this to your 
 daughter. She must believe that I leave to-night. And 
 the sooner you get her out of this cursed ship the better." 
 
 "Deacon Flint's girls are goin' up in to-night's boat. 
 I'll send Rosey with them," said Nott, with a cunning 
 twinkle. Renshaw nodded. Nott seized his hand with a 
 wink of unutterable significance.
 
 280 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 Left to himself, Renshaw tried to review more calmly the 
 circumstances in these strange revelations that had impelled 
 him to change his resolution so suddenly. That the ship 
 was under the surveillance of unknown parties, and that 
 the description of them tallied with his own knowledge 
 of a certain Lascar sailor who was one of Sleight's inform- 
 ants, seemed to be more than probable. That this seemed 
 to point to Sleight's disloyalty to himself while he was 
 acting as his agent, or a double treachery on the part of 
 Sleight's informants, was in either case a reason and an 
 excuse for his own interference. But the connection of 
 the absurd Frenchman with the case, which at first seemed 
 a characteristic imbecility of his landlord, bewildered him 
 the more he thought of it. Rejecting any hypothesis of 
 the girl's affection for the antiquated figure whose sanity 
 was a question of public criticism, he was forced to the 
 equally alarming theory that Ferrieres was cognizant of the 
 treasure, and that his attentions to Rosey were to gain 
 possession of it by marrying her. Might she not be daz- 
 zled by a picture of this wealth 1 Was it not possible that 
 she was already in part possession of the secret, and her 
 strange attraction to the ship, and what he had deemed 
 her innocent craving for information concerning it, a con- 
 sequence ? Why had he not thought of this before ? Per- 
 haps she had detected his purpose from the first, and had 
 deliberately checkmated him. The thought did not increase 
 his complacency as Nott softly returned : 
 
 "It's all right," he began, with a certain satisfaction in 
 this rare opportunity for Machiavelian diplomacy, " it 's 
 all fixed now. Rosey tumbled to it at once, partiklerly 
 when I said you was bound to go. ' But wot makes Mr. 
 Renshaw go, father, ' sez she ; ' wot makes everybody run 
 away from the ship ? ' sez she, rather peart-like and sassy 
 for her. ' Mr. Renshaw hez contractin' business, ' sez I ; 
 * got a big thing up in Sacramento that '11 make his for-
 
 A SHIP OF '49 281 
 
 tun',' sez I for I wasn't goin' to give yer away, don't ye 
 see ? ' He had some business to talk to you about the 
 ship,' sez she, lookin' at me under the corner of her 
 pocket-handkerchief. ' Lots o' business, ' sez I. ' Then 
 I reckon he don't care to hev me write to him,' sez she. 
 'Not a bit,' sez I; 'he wouldn't answer ye if ye did. 
 Ye '11 never hear from that chap agin.' " 
 
 " But what the devil " interrupted the young man 
 impetuously. 
 
 " Keep yer hair on ! " remonstrated the old man with 
 dark intelligence. "Ef you'd seen the way she flounced 
 into her stateroom ! she, Eosey, ez allus moves ez softly 
 ez a spirit you 'd hev wished I 'd hev unloaded a little 
 more. No, sir, gals is gals in some things all the time." 
 
 Eenshaw rose and paced the room rapidly. "Perhaps 
 I 'd better speak to her again before she goes," he said im- 
 pulsively. 
 
 "P'r'aps you'd better not," replied the imperturbable 
 Nott. 
 
 Irritated as he was, Kenshaw could not avoid the reflec- 
 tion that the old man was right. What, indeed, could he 
 say to her with his present imperfect knowledge? How 
 could she write to him if that knowledge was correct? 
 
 "Ef," said Nott kindly, with a laying on of large bene- 
 dictory and paternal hands, "ef ye 're willin' to see Eosey 
 agin, without speakin' to her, I reckon I ken fix it for 
 yer. I 'm goin' to take her down to the boat in half an 
 hour. Ef yer should happen mind, ef yer should hap- 
 pen to be down there, seein' some friends off and sorter 
 promenadin' up and down the wharf like them high-toned 
 chaps on Montgomery Street ye might ketch her eye un- 
 conscious like. Or, ye might do this ! " He rose after a 
 moment's cogitation and with a face of profound mystery 
 opened the door and beckoned Eenshaw to follow him. 
 Leading the way cautiously, he brought the young man
 
 282 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 into an open unpartitioned recess beside her stateroom. 
 It seemed to be used as a storeroom, and Renshaw's eye 
 was caught by a trunk the size and shape of the one that 
 had provided Rosey with the materials of her masquerade. 
 Pointing to it, Mr. Nott said in a grave whisper: "This 
 yer trunk is the companion trunk to Rosey 's. She 's got 
 the things them opery women wears; this yer contains the 
 he things, the duds and fixin's o' the men o' the same 
 stripe." Throwing it open, he continued : "Now, Mr. 
 Renshaw, gals is gals; it 's nat'ral they should be took by 
 fancy dress and store clothes on young chaps as on their- 
 selves. That man Ferrers hez got the dead-wood on all of 
 ye in this sort of thing, and hez been playing, so to speak, 
 a lone hand all along. And ef thar 's any thin' in thar," he 
 added, lifting part of a theatrical wardrobe, "that you 
 think you 'd fancy anythin' you 'd like to put on when 
 ye promenade the wharf down yonder it 's yours. Don't 
 ye be bashful, but help yourself." 
 
 It was fully a minute before Renshaw fairly grasped the 
 old man's meaning. But when he did when the sug- 
 gested spectacle of himself arrayed k la Ferrieres, gravely 
 promenading the wharf as a last gorgeous appeal to the 
 affections of Rosey, rose before his fancy, he gave way to 
 a fit of genuine laughter. The nervous tension of the past 
 few hours relaxed; he laughed until the tears came into 
 his eyes; he was still laughing when the door of the cabin 
 suddenly opened and Rosey appeared cold and distant on 
 the threshold. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," stammered Renshaw hastily. 
 "I did n't mean to disturb you I " 
 
 Without looking at him Rosey turned to her father. 
 "I am ready," she said coldly, and closed the door again. 
 
 A glance of artful intelligence came into Nott's eyes, 
 which had remained blankly staring at Renshaw's ap- 
 parently causeless hilarity. Turning to him he winked
 
 A SHIP OF '49 283 
 
 solemnly. "That keerless kind o' hoss-laff jist fetched 
 her," he whispered, and vanished before his chagrined 
 companion could reply. 
 
 When Mr. Nott and his daughter departed, Eenshaw 
 was not in the ship, neither did he make a spectacular 
 appearance on the wharf as Mr. Nott had fondly expected,, 
 nor did he turn up again until after nine o'clock, when he 
 found the old man in the cabin awaiting his return with 
 some agitation. "A minit ago," he said, mysteriously 
 closing the door behind Kenshaw, " I heard a voice in the 
 passage, and goin' out, who should I see agin but that 
 darned furrin nigger ez I told yer 'bout, kinder hidin' in 
 the dark, his eyes shinin' like a catamount. I was jist 
 reachin' for my weppins when he riz up with a grin and 
 handed me this yer letter. I told him I reckoned you 'd 
 gone to Sacramento, but he said he wez sure you was in 
 your room, and to prove it I went thar. But when I kem 
 back the d d skunk had vamosed got frightened, I 
 reckon and wasn't nowhar to be seen." 
 
 Eenshaw took the letter hastily. It contained only a 
 line in Sleight's hand. "If you change your mind, the 
 bearer may be of service to you." 
 
 He turned abruptly to Nott. "You say it was the same 
 Lascar you saw before 1 " 
 
 "It was." 
 
 "Then all I can say is, he is no agent of De Ferrieres'," 
 said Eenshaw, turning away with a disappointed air. Mr. 
 Nott would have asked another question, but with an 
 abrupt "Good-night" the young man entered his room, 
 locked the door, and threw himself on his bed to reflect 
 without interruption. 
 
 But if he was in no mood to stand Nott's fatuous con- 
 jectures, he was less inclined to be satisfied with his 
 own. Had he been again carried away through his im- 
 pulses evoked by the caprices of a pretty coquette and
 
 284 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 the absurd theories of her half-imbecile father? Had ho 
 broken faith with Sleight and remained in the ship for 
 nothing, and would not his change of resolution appear to 
 be the result of Sleight's note? But why had the Lascar 
 been haunting the ship before? In the midst of these 
 conjectures he fell asleep. 
 
 VII 
 
 Between three and four in the morning the clouds broke 
 over the Pontiac; and the moon, riding high, picked out 
 in black and silver the long hulk that lay cradled between 
 the iron shells and warehouses and the wooden frames and 
 tenements on either side. The galley and covered gang- 
 way presented a mass of undefined shadow, against which 
 the white deck shone brightly, stretching to the forecastle 
 and bows, where the tiny glass roof of the photographer 
 glistened like a gem in the Pontiac' s crest. So peaceful 
 and motionless she lay that she might have been some 
 petrifaction of a past age now first exhumed and laid bare 
 to the cold light of the stars. 
 
 Nevertheless, this calm security was presently invaded 
 by a sense of stealthy life and motion. What had seemed 
 a fixed shadow suddenly detached itself from the deck and 
 began to slip stanchion by stanchion along the bulwarks 
 toward the companionway. At the cabin door it halted 
 and crouched motionless. Then rising, it glided forward 
 with the same staccato movement until opposite the slight 
 elevation of the fore hatch. Suddenly it darted to the 
 hatch, unfastened and lifted it with a swift, familiar dex- 
 terity, and disappeared in the opening. But as the moon 
 shone upon its vanishing face, it revealed the whitening 
 eyes and teeth of the Lascar seaman. 
 
 Dropping to the lower deck lightly, he felt his way 
 through the dark passage between the partitions, evidently 
 less familiar to him, halting before each door to listen.
 
 A SHIP OF '49 285 
 
 Returning forward he reached the second hatchway that 
 had attracted Kosey's attention, and noiselessly unclosed 
 its fastenings. A penetrating smell of bilge arose from the 
 opening. Drawing a small bull's-eye lantern from his 
 breast he lit it, and unhesitatingly let himself down to the 
 further depth. The moving flash of his light revealed the 
 recesses of the upper hold, the abyss of the well amidships, 
 and glanced from the shining backs of moving zigzags of 
 rats that seemed to outline the shadowy beams and tran- 
 soms. Disregarding those curious spectators of his move- 
 ments, he turned his attention eagerly to the inner casings 
 of the hold, that seemed in one spot to have been strength- 
 ened by fresh timbers. Attacking this stealthily with the 
 aid of some tools hidden in his oilskin clothing, in the 
 light of the lantern he bore a fanciful resemblance to the 
 predatory animals around him. The low, continuous sound 
 of rasping and gnawing of timber which followed heightened 
 the resemblance. At the end of a few minutes he had 
 succeeded in removing enough of the outer planking to 
 show that the entire filling of the casing between the 
 stanchions was composed of small boxes. Dragging out 
 one of them with feverish eagerness to the light, the Lascar 
 forced it open. In the rays of the bull's-eye, a wedged 
 mass of discolored coins showed with a lurid glow. The 
 story of the Pontiac was true the treasure was there ! 
 
 But Mr. Sleight had overlooked the logical effect of this 
 discovery on the natural villainy of his tool. In the very 
 moment of his triumphant execution of his patron's sug- 
 gestions the idea of keeping the treasure to himself flashed 
 upon his mind. He had discovered it why should he 
 give it up to anybody? He had run all the risks; if he 
 were detected at that moment, who would believe that his 
 purpose there at midnight was only to satisfy some one 
 else that the treasure was still intact? No. The circum- 
 stances were propitious; he would get the treasure out of
 
 286 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 the ship at once, drop it over her side, hastily conceal it 
 in the nearest lot adjacent, and take it away at his con- 
 venience. Who would be the wiser for it? 
 
 But it was necessary to reconnoitre first. He knew that 
 the loft overhead was empty. He knew that it communi- 
 cated with the alley, for he had tried the door that morning. 
 He would convey the treasure there and drop it into the 
 alley. The boxes were heavy. Each one would require a 
 separate journey to the ship's side, but he would at least 
 secure something if he were interrupted. He stripped the 
 casing, and gathered the boxes together in a pile. 
 
 Ah, yes, it was funny too that he the Lascar hound 
 the d d nigger should get what bigger and bullier 
 men than he had died for! The mate's blood was on 
 those boxes, if the salt water had not washed it out. It 
 was a hell of a fight when they dragged the captain Oh, 
 what was that? Was it the splash of a rat in the bilge, 
 or what? 
 
 A superstitious terror had begun to seize him at the 
 thought of blood. The stifling hold seemed again filled 
 with struggling figures he had known, the air thick with 
 cries and blasphemies that he had forgotten. He rose to 
 his feet, and running quickly to the hatchway, leaped to 
 the deck above. All was quiet. The door leading to the 
 empty loft yielded to his touch. He entered, and, gliding 
 through, unbarred and opened the door that gave upon the 
 alley. The cold air and moonlight flowed in silently; the 
 way of escape was clear. Bah! He would go back for 
 the treasure. 
 
 He had reached the passage when the door he had just 
 opened was suddenly darkened. Turning rapidly, he Avas 
 conscious of a gaunt figure, grotesque, silent, and erect, 
 looming on the threshold between him and the sky. Hid- 
 den in the shadow, he made a stealthy step towards it, 
 with an iron wrench in his uplifted hand. But the next
 
 A SHIP OF '49 287 
 
 moment his eyes dilated with superstitious horror ; the iron 
 fell from his hand, and with a scream, like a frightened 
 animal, he turned and fled into the passage. In the first 
 access of his blind terror he tried to reach the deck above 
 through the fore hatch, but was stopped by the sound of a 
 heavy tread overhead. The immediate fear of detection 
 now overcame his superstition; he would have even faced 
 the apparition again to escape through the loft; but before 
 he could return there, other footsteps approached rapidly 
 from the end of the passage he would have to traverse. 
 There was but one chance of escape left now the f orehold 
 he had just quitted. He might hide there until the alarm 
 was over. He glided back to the hatch, lifted it, and 
 closed it softly over his head as the upper hatch was simul- 
 taneously raised, and the small round eyes of Abner Nott 
 peered down upon it. The other footsteps proved to be 
 Eenshaw's, but attracted by the open door of the loft, he 
 turned aside and entered. As soon as he disappeared Mr. 
 Nott cautiously dropped through the opening to the deck 
 below, and going to the other hatch through which the 
 Lascar had vanished, deliberately refastened it. In a few 
 moments Eenshaw returned with a light, and found the 
 old man sitting on the hatch. 
 
 "The loft door was open," said Eenshaw. "There's 
 little doubt whoever was here escaped that way." 
 
 "Surely," said Nbtt. There was a peculiar look of 
 Machiavelian sagacity in his face which irritated Eenshaw. 
 
 " Then you 're sure it was Ferrieres you saw pass by 
 your window before you called me ? " he asked. 
 
 Nott nodded his head with an expression of infinite pro- 
 fundity. 
 
 " But you say he was going from the ship. Then it 
 could not have been he who made the noise we heard down 
 here." 
 
 " Mebbe no, and mebbe yes, " returned Nott cautiously.
 
 288 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 "But if he was already concealed inside the ship, as 
 that open door, which you say you barred from the inside, 
 would indicate, what the devil did he want with this ? " 
 said Kenshaw, producing the monkey-wrench he had picked 
 up. 
 
 Mr. Nott examined the tool carefully, and shook his 
 head with momentous significance. Nevertheless, his eyes 
 wandered to the hatch on which he was seated. 
 
 " Did you find anything disturbed there ? " said Ken- 
 shaw, following the direction of his eye. " Was that hatch 
 fastened as it is now ? " 
 
 "It was," said Nott calmly. "But ye wouldn't mind 
 fetchin' me a hammer and some o' them big nails from the 
 locker, would yer, while I hang round here just so ez to 
 make sure against another attack." 
 
 Eenshaw complied with his request; but as Nott pro- 
 ceeded to gravely nail down the fastenings of the hatch, 
 he turned impatiently away to complete his examination 
 of the ship. The doors of the other lofts and their fasten- 
 ings appeared secure and undisturbed. Yet it was undeni- 
 able that a felonious entrance had been made, but by whom 
 or for what purpose still remained uncertain. Even now 
 Eenshaw found it difficult to accept Nott's theory that De 
 Ferrieres was the aggressor and Kosey the object, nor could 
 he justify his own suspicion that the Lascar had obtained 
 a surreptitious entrance under Sleight's directions. With 
 a feeling that if Eosey had been present he would have 
 confessed all, and demanded from her an equal confidence, 
 he began to hate his feeble, purposeless, and inefficient al- 
 liance with her father, who believed but dared not tax his 
 daughter with complicity in this outrage. What could be 
 done with a man whose only idea of action at such a mo- 
 ment was to nail up an undisturbed entrance in his invaded 
 house! He was so preoccupied with these thoughts that 
 when Nott rejoined him in the cabin he scarcely heeded
 
 A SHIP OF '49 289 
 
 his presence, and was entirely oblivious of the furtive looks 
 which the old man from time to time cast upon his face. 
 
 "I reckon ye wouldn't mind," broke in Nott sud- 
 denly, "ef I asked a favor of ye, Mr. Eenshaw. Mebbe 
 ye '11 allow it 's askin' too much in the matter of expense; 
 mebbe ye '11 allow it 's askin' too much in the matter o' 
 time. But / kalkilate to pay all the expense, and if 
 you 'd let me know what yer vally yer time at I reckon I 
 could stand that. What I 'd be askin' is this. Would ye 
 mind takin' a letter from me to Eosey and bringin' back 
 an answer ? " 
 
 Eenshaw stared speechlessly at this absurd realization of 
 his wish of a moment before. "I don't think I under- 
 stand you," he stammered. 
 
 "P'r'aps not," returned Nott, with great gravity. 
 "But that 's not so much matter to you ez your time anc> 
 expenses. " 
 
 "I meant I should be glad to go if I can be of any set-, 
 vice to you," said Eenshaw hastily. 
 
 "You kin ketch the seven o'clock boat this morning, 
 and you '11 reach San Eafael at ten " 
 
 "But I thought Miss Eosey went to Petaluma, " inter- 
 rupted Eenshaw quickly. 
 
 Nott regarded him with an expression of patronizing 
 superiority. "That's what we ladled out to the public 
 gin'rally, and to Ferrers and his gang in partickler. We 
 said Petalumey, but if you go to Madrono Cottage, San 
 Eafael, you '11 find Eosey thar." 
 
 If Mr. Eenshaw required anything more to convince him 
 of the necessity of coming to some understanding with 
 Eosey at once, it would have been this last evidence of her 
 father's utterly dark and supremely inscrutable designs. 
 He assented quickly, and Nott handed him a note. 
 
 "Ye '11 be partickler to give this inter her own hands, 
 and wait for an answer," said Nott gravely.
 
 290 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 Resisting the proposition to enter then and there into an 
 elaborate calculation of the value of his time and the ex- 
 penses of the trip, Renshaw found himself at seven o'clock 
 on the San Rafael boat. Brief as was the journey, it 
 gave him time to reflect upon his coming interview with 
 Rosey. He had resolved to begin by confessing all; the 
 attempt of last night had released him from any sense of 
 duty to Sleight. Besides, he did not doubt that Nott's let- 
 ter contained some reference to this affair only known to 
 Nott's dark and tortuous intelligence. 
 
 vin 
 
 Madrono Cottage lay at the entrance of a little Canada 
 already green with the early winter rains, and nestled in a 
 thicket of the harlequin painted trees that gave it a name. 
 The young man was a little relieved to find that Rosey had 
 gone to the post-office a mile away, and that he would 
 probably overtake her or meet her returning alone. The 
 road little more than a trail wound along the crest of 
 the hill looking across the Canada to the long, dark, 
 heavily wooded flank of Mount Tamalpais that rose from 
 the valley a dozen miles away. A cessation of the warm 
 rain, a rift in the sky, and the rare spectacle of cloud 
 scenery, combined with a certain sense of freedom, re- 
 stored that light-hearted gayety that became him most. 
 At a sudden turn of the road he caught sight of Rosey 's 
 figure coming towards him, and quickened his step with 
 the impulsiveness of a boy. But she suddenly disap- 
 peared, and when he again saw her she was on the other 
 side of the trail, apparently picking the leaves of a man- 
 zanita. She had already seen him. 
 
 Somehow the frankness of his greeting was checked. She 
 looked up at him with cheeks that retained enough of their 
 color to suggest why she had hesitated, and said, " You 
 here, Mr. Renshaw ? I thought you were in Sacramento. "
 
 A SHIP OF '49 291 
 
 "And I thought you were in Petaluma," he retorted 
 gayly. " I have a letter from your father. The fact is, 
 one of those gentlemen who have been haunting the ship 
 actually made an entry last night. Who he was, and 
 what he came for, nobody knows. Perhaps your father 
 gives you his suspicions." He could not help looking at 
 her narrowly as he handed her the note. Except that her 
 pretty eyebrows were slightly raised in curiosity she seemed 
 undisturbed as she opened the letter. Presently she raised 
 her eyes to his. 
 
 " Is this all father gave you ? " 
 
 "All." 
 
 "You 're sure you have n't dropped anything? " 
 
 "Nothing. I have given you all he gave me." 
 
 "And that is all it is." She exhibited the missive, a 
 perfectly blank sheet of paper folded like a note ! 
 
 Renshaw felt the angry blood glow in his cheeks. 
 " This is unpardonable ! I assure you, Miss Nott, there 
 must be some mistake. He himself has probably forgotten 
 the inclosure, " he continued, yet with an inward conviction 
 that the act was perfectly premeditated on the part of the 
 old man. 
 
 The young girl held out her hand frankly. "Don't 
 think any more of it, Mr. Renshaw. Father is forgetful 
 at times. But tell me about last night." 
 
 In a few words Mr. Renshaw briefly but plainly related 
 the details of the attempt upon the Pontiac, from the mo- 
 ment that he had been awakened by Nott, to his discovery 
 of the unknown trespasser's flight by the open door to the 
 loft. When he had finished, he hesitated, and then, tak- 
 ing Rosey's hand, said impulsively, "You will not be 
 angry with me if I tell you all ? Your father firmly be- 
 lieves that the attempt was made by the old Frenchman, 
 De Ferrieres, with a view of carrying you off." 
 
 A dozen reasons other than the one her father would
 
 292 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 have attributed it to might have called the hlood to her 
 face. But only innocence could have brought the look of 
 astonished indignation to her eyes as she answered 
 quickly : 
 
 " So that was what you were laughing at ? " 
 
 "Not that, Miss Nott," said the young man eagerly; 
 "though I wish to God I could accuse myself of nothing 
 more disloyal. Do not speak, I beg," he added impa- 
 tiently, as Eosey was about to reply. "I have no right 
 to hear you; I have no right to even stand in your pre- 
 sence until I have confessed everything. I came to the 
 Pontiac; I made your acquaintance, Miss Nott, through a 
 fraud as wicked as anything your father charges to De 
 Ferrieres. I am not a contractor. I never was an honest 
 lodger in the Pontiac. I was simply a spy." 
 
 "But you didn't mean to be it was some mistake, 
 wasn't it? " said Eosey, quite white, but more from sym- 
 pathy with the offender's emotion than horror at the 
 offense. 
 
 "I am afraid I did mean it. But bear with me for a 
 few moments longer and you shall know all. It 's a long 
 story. Will you walk on, and take my arm ? You do 
 not shrink from me, Miss Nott. Thank you. I scarcely 
 deserve the kindness." 
 
 Indeed so little did Eosey shrink that he was conscious 
 of a slight reassuring pressure on his arm as they moved 
 forward, and for the moment I fear the young man felt 
 like exaggerating his offense for the sake of proportionate 
 sympathy. "Do you remember," he continued, "one 
 evening when I told you some sea tales, you said you al- 
 ways thought there must be some story about the Pontiac ? 
 There was a story of the Pontiac, Miss Nott a wicked 
 story a terrible story which I might have told you, 
 which I ought to have told you which was the story 
 that brought me there. You were right, too, in saying
 
 A SHIP OF '49 293 
 
 that you thought I had known the Pontiac "before I stepped 
 first on her deck that day. I had." 
 
 He laid his disengaged hand across lightly on Kosey's, 
 as if to assure himself that she was listening. 
 
 "I was at that time a sailor. I had been fool enough 
 to run away from college, thinking it a fine romantic thing 
 to ship hefore the mast for a voyage round the world. I 
 was a little disappointed, perhaps, but I made the best of 
 it, and in two years I was the second mate of a whaler 
 lying in a little harbor of one of the uncivilized islands of 
 the Pacific. While we were at anchor there a French trad- 
 ing-vessel put in, apparently for water. She had the dregs 
 of a mixed crew of Lascars and Portuguese, who said they 
 had lost the rest of their men by desertion, and that the 
 captain and mate had been carried off by fever. There 
 was something so queer in their story that our skipper took 
 the law in his own hands, and put me on board of her 
 with a salvage crew. But that night the French crew 
 mutinied, cut the cables, and would have got to sea if we 
 had not been armed and prepared, and managed to drive 
 them below. When we had got them under hatches for a 
 few hours they parleyed, and offered to go quietly ashore. 
 As we were short of hands and unable to take them with 
 us, and as we had no evidence against them, we let them 
 go, took the ship to Callao, turned her over to the authori- 
 ties, lodged a claim for salvage, and continued our voyage. 
 When we returned we found the truth of the story was 
 known. She had been a French trader from Marseilles, 
 owned by her captain ; her crew had mutinied in the Pacific, 
 killed their officers and the only passenger the owner of 
 the cargo. They had made away with the cargo and a 
 treasure of nearly half a million of Spanish gold for trad- 
 ing purposes which belonged to the passenger. In course 
 of time the ship was sold for salvage and put into the 
 South American trade until the breaking out of the Cali-
 
 294 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 fornian gold excitement when she was sent with a cargo to 
 San Francisco. That ship was the Pontiac, which your 
 father bought." 
 
 A slight shudder ran through the girl's frame. "I 
 wish I wish you hadn't told me," she said. "I shall 
 never close my eyes again comfortably on board of her, I 
 know." 
 
 "I would say that you had purified her of all stains of 
 her past but there may be one that remains. And that 
 in most people's eyes would be no detraction. You look 
 puzzled, Miss Nott but I am coming to the explanation 
 and the end of my story. A ship of war was sent to the 
 island to punish the mutineers and pirates, for such they 
 were, but they could not be found. A private expedition 
 was sent to discover the treasure which they were supposed 
 to have buried, but in vain. About two months ago Mr. 
 Sleight told me one of his shipmasters had sent him a 
 Lascar sailor who had to dispose of a valuable secret re- 
 garding the Pontiac for a percentage. That secret was that 
 the treasure was never taken by the mutineers out of the 
 Pontiac! They were about to land and bury it when we 
 boarded them. They took advantage of their imprison- 
 ment under hatches to bury it in the ship. They hid it 
 in the hold so securely and safely that it was never de- 
 tected by us or the Callao authorities. I was then asked, 
 as one who knew the vessel, to undertake a private exam- 
 ination of her, with a view of purchasing her from your 
 father without awakening his suspicions. I assented. 
 You have my confession now, Miss Nott. You know 
 my crime. I am at your mercy;" 
 
 Rosey's arm only tightened around his own. Her eyes 
 sought his. "And you didn't find anything? " she said. 
 
 The question sounded so oddly like Sleight's that Ken- 
 shaw returned a little stiffly : 
 
 "I didn't look."
 
 A SHIP OF '49 295 
 
 "Why?" asked Rosey simply. 
 
 "Because," stammered Eenshaw, with an uneasy con- 
 sciousness of having exaggerated his sentiment, "it didn't 
 seem honorable; it didn't seem fair to you." 
 
 " Oh, you silly ! you might have looked and told me. " 
 
 "But," said Eenshaw, "do you think that would have 
 been fair to Sleight ? " 
 
 " As fair to him as to us. For, don't you see, it would n't 
 belong to any of us. It would belong to the friends or the 
 family of the man who lost it." 
 
 "But there were no heirs," replied Eenshaw. "That 
 was proved by some impostor who pretended to be his 
 brother, and libeled the Pontiac at Callao, but the courts 
 decided he was a lunatic." 
 
 "Then it belongs to the poor pirates who risked their 
 own lives for it, rather than to Sleight, who did nothing." 
 She was silent for a moment, and then resumed with en- 
 ergy, "I believe he was at the bottom of that attack last 
 night. " 
 
 "I have thought so too," said Eenshaw. 
 
 "Then I must go back at once," she continued impul- 
 sively. "Father must not be left alone." 
 
 "Nor must you," said Eenshaw quickly. "Do let me 
 return with you, and share with you and your father the 
 trouble I have brought upon you. Do not," he added in a 
 lower tone, "deprive me of the only chance of expiating 
 my offense, of making myself worthy your forgiveness." 
 
 "I am sure," said Eosey, lowering her lids and half 
 withdrawing her arm, "I am sure I have nothing to for- 
 give. You did not believe the treasure belonged to us any 
 more than to anybody else, until you knew me " 
 
 "That is true," said the young man, attempting to take 
 her hand. 
 
 "I mean," said Eosey, blushing, and showing a dis- 
 tracting row of little teeth in one of her infrequent laughs,
 
 296 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 "oh, you know what I mean." She withdrew her arm 
 gently, and became interested in the selection of certain 
 wayside bay leaves as they passed along. "All the same, 
 I don't believe in this treasure," she said abruptly, as if 
 to change the subject. "I don't believe it ever was hid- 
 den inside the Pontiac." 
 
 "That can be easily ascertained now," said Eenshaw. 
 
 "But it 's a pity you didn't find it out while you were 
 about it," said Eosey. "It would have saved so much 
 talk and trouble." 
 
 "I have told you why I didn't search the ship," re- 
 sponded Eenshaw, with a slight bitterness. " But it seems 
 I could only avoid being a great rascal by becoming a great 
 fool." 
 
 "You never intended to be a rascal," said Eosey ear- 
 nestly, "and you couldn't be a fool, except in heeding 
 what a silly girl says. I only meant if you had taken me 
 into your confidence it would have been better." 
 
 " Might I not say the same to you regarding your friend, 
 the old Frenchman ? " returned Eenshaw. " What if I 
 were to confess to you that I lately suspected him of know- 
 ing the secret, and of trying to gain your assistance ? " 
 
 Instead of indignantly repudiating the suggestion to the 
 young man's great discomfiture, Eosey only knit her pretty 
 brows, and remained for some moments silent. Presently 
 she asked timidly : 
 
 "Do you think it wrong to tell another person's secret 
 for their own good ? " 
 
 "No," said Eenshaw promptly. 
 
 " Then I '11 tell you Monsieur de Ferrieres' ! But only 
 because I believe from what you have just said that he 
 will turn out to have some right to the treasure." 
 
 Then with kindling eyes, and a voice eloquent with 
 sympathy, Eosey told the story of her accidental discovery 
 of De Ferrieres' miserable existence in the loft. Clothing
 
 A SHIP OF '49 297 
 
 it with the unconscious poetry of her fresh, young imagi- 
 nation, she lightly passed over his antique gallantry and 
 grotesque weakness, exalting only his lonely sufferings and 
 mysterious wrongs. Eenshaw listened, lost between shame 
 for his late suspicions and admiration for her thoughtful 
 delicacy, until she began to speak of De Ferrieres' strange 
 allusions to the foreign papers in his portmanteau. "I 
 think some were law papers, and I am almost certain I saw 
 the word Callao printed on one of them." 
 
 "It may be so," said Eenshaw thoughtfully. "The old 
 Frenchman has always passed for a harmless, wandering 
 eccentric. I hardly think public curiosity has ever even 
 sought to know his name, much less his history. But had 
 we not better first try to find if there is any property be- 
 fore we examine his claims to it ? " 
 
 "As you please," said Eosey, with a slight pout; "but 
 you will find it much easier to discover him than his trea- 
 sure. It 's always easier to find the thing you 're not look- 
 ing for." 
 
 "Until you want it," said Eenshaw, with sudden grav- 
 ity. 
 
 "How pretty it looks over there," said Eosey, turning 
 her conscious eyes to the opposite mountain. 
 
 "Very." 
 
 They had reached the top of the hill, and in the near 
 distance the chimney of Madrono Cottage was even now 
 visible. At the expected sight they unconsciously stopped 
 unconsciously disappointed. Eosey broke the embar- 
 rassing silence. 
 
 "There's another way home, but it's a roundabout 
 way, " she said timidly. 
 
 "Let us take it," said Eenshaw. 
 
 She hesitated. "The boat goes at four, and we must 
 return to-night." 
 
 "The more reason why we should make the most of our
 
 298 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 time now, " said Kenshaw, with a faint smile. " To-morrow 
 all things may be changed; to-morrow you may find your- 
 self an heiress, Miss Nott. To-morrow, " he added, with a 
 slight tremor in his voice, "I may have earned your for- 
 giveness, only to say farewell to you forever. Let me keep 
 this sunshine, this picture, this companionship with you 
 long enough to say now what perhaps I must not say to- 
 morrow. " 
 
 They were silent for a moment, and then by a common 
 instinct turned together into a narrow trail, scarce wide 
 enough for two, that diverged from the straight practical 
 path before them. It was indeed a roundabout way home, 
 so roundabout, in fact, that as they wandered on it seemed 
 even to double on its track, occasionally lingering long and 
 becoming indistinct under the shadow of madrono and 
 willow ; at one time stopping blindly before a fallen tree 
 in the hollow, where they had quite lost it, and had to sit 
 down to recall it; a rough way, often requiring the mu- 
 tual help of each other's hands and eyes to tread together in 
 security; an uncertain way, not to be found without whis- 
 pered consultation and concession, and yet a way eventually 
 bringing them hand in hand, happy and hopeful, to the 
 gate of Madrono Cottage. And if there was only just 
 time for Eosey to prepare to take the boat, it was due to 
 the deviousness of the way. If a stray curl was lying 
 loose on Eosey 's cheek, and a long hair had caught in Een- 
 shaw's button, it was owing to the roughness of the way; 
 and if in the tones of their voices and in the glances of 
 their eyes there was a maturer seriousness, it was due to 
 the dim uncertainty of the path they had traveled, and 
 would hereafter tread together. 
 
 IX 
 
 When Mr. Nott had satisfied himself of Eenshaw's de- 
 parture, he coolly bolted the door at the head of the com-
 
 A SHIP OF '49 299 
 
 panionway, thus cutting off any communication with the 
 lower deck. Taking a long rifle from the rack above his 
 berth, he carefully examined the hammer and cap, and then 
 cautiously let himself down through the "fore hatch to the 
 deck below. After a deliberate survey of the still intact 
 fastenings of the hatch over the forehold, he proceeded 
 quietly to unloose them again with the aid of the tools that 
 still lay there. When the hatch was once more free he 
 lifted it, and withdrawing a few feet from the opening, 
 sat himself down, rifle in hand. A profound silence 
 reigned throughout the lower deck. 
 
 "Ye kin rize up out o' that," said Nott gently. 
 
 There was a stealthy rustle below that seemed to ap- 
 proach the hatch, and then with a sudden bound the Lascar 
 leaped on the deck. But at the same instant Nott covered 
 him with his rifle. A slight shade of disappointment and 
 surprise had crossed the old man's face, and clouded his 
 small round eyes at the apparition of the Lascar, but his 
 hand was none the less firm upon the trigger as the fright- 
 ened prisoner sank on his knees, with his hands clasped in 
 the attitude of supplication for mercy. 
 
 "Ef you're thinkin' o' skippin' afore I've done with 
 yer," said Nott, with labored gentleness, "I oughter warn 
 ye that it 's my style to drop Injins at two hundred yards, 
 and this deck ain't anywhere more 'n fifty. It 's an un- 
 comfortable style, a nasty style but it's my style. I 
 thought' I 'd tell yer, so yer could take it easy where you 
 air. Where 's Ferrers 1 " 
 
 Even in the man's insane terror, his utter bewilder- 
 ment at the question was evident. "Ferrers? " he gasped; 
 "don't know him, I swear to God, boss." 
 
 "P'r'aps," said Nott, with infinite cunning, "yer don't 
 know the man ez kem into the loft from the alley last 
 night p'r'aps yer didn't see an airy Frenchman with a 
 dyed mustache, eh ? I thought that would fetch ye ! " he
 
 300 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 continued, as the man started at the evidence that his vi- 
 sion of last night was a living man. "P'r'aps you and him 
 didn't break into this ship last night, jist to run off with 
 my darter Eosey? P'r'aps yer don't know Eosey, eh? 
 P'r'aps yer don't know ez Ferrers wants to marry her, and 
 hez been hangin' round yer ever since he left eh 1 " 
 
 Scarcely believing the evidence of his senses that the 
 old man whose treasure he had been trying to steal was 
 utterly ignorant of his real offense, and yet uncertain of 
 the penalty of the other crime of which he was accused, the 
 Lascar writhed his body and stammered vaguely, "Mercy! 
 Mercy!" 
 
 "Well," said Nott cautiously, "ez I reckon the hide of 
 a dead Chinee nigger ain't any more vallyble than that 
 of a dead Injin, I don't care ef I let up on yer seein' 
 the cussedness ain't yours. But ef I let yer off this once, 
 you must take a message to Ferrers from me." 
 
 "Let me off this time, boss, and I swear to God I will," 
 said the Lascar eagerly. 
 
 "Ye kin say to Ferrers let me see" deliberated 
 Nott, leaning on his rifle with cautious reflection. "Ye 
 kin say to Ferrers like this sez you, ' Ferrers, ' sez you, 
 ' the old man sez that afore you went away you sez to him, 
 sez you, "I take my honor with me," sez you ' have you 
 got that ? " interrupted Nott suddenly. 
 
 "Yes, boss." 
 
 " ' I take my honor with me, ' sez you, " repeated Nott 
 slowly. " ' Now, ' sez you ' the old man sez, sez he 
 tell Ferrers, sez he, that his honor havin' run away agin, 
 he sends it back to him, and ef he ever ketches it around 
 after this, he '11 shoot it on sight. ' Hev yer got that ? " 
 
 "Yes," stammered the bewildered captive. 
 
 "Then git!" 
 
 The Lascar sprang to his feet with the agility of a pan- 
 ther, leaped through the hatch above him, and disappeared
 
 A SHIP OF '49 301 
 
 over the bow of the ship with an unhesitating directness 
 that showed that every avenue of escape had been already 
 contemplated by him. Slipping lightly from the cut- 
 water to the ground, he continued his flight, only stopping 
 at the private office of Mr. Sleight. 
 
 When Mr. Renshaw and Rosey Nott arrived on board 
 the Pontiac that evening, they were astonished to find 
 the passage before the cabin completely occupied with 
 trunks and boxes, and the bulk of their household goods 
 apparently in the process of removal. Mr. Nott, who was 
 superintending the work of two Chinamen, betrayed not 
 only no surprise at the appearance of the young people, but 
 not the remotest recognition of their own bewilderment at 
 his occupation. 
 
 "Kalkilatin'," he remarked casually to his daughter, 
 "you'd rather look arter your fixin's, Rosey, I've left 
 'em till the last. P'r'aps yer and Mr. Renshaw wouldn't 
 mind sittin' down on that locker until I 've strapped this 
 yer box." 
 
 " But what does it all mean, father 1 " said Rosey, tak- 
 ing the old man by the lapels of his pea-jacket, and 
 slightly emphasizing her question. "What in the name of 
 goodness are you doing ? " 
 
 "Breakin' camp, Rosey dear, breakin' camp, jist ez we 
 uster," replied Nott, with cheerful philosophy. "Kinder 
 like ole times, ain't it? Lord, Rosey," he continued, 
 stopping and following up the reminiscence, with the end 
 of the rope in his hand as if it were a clue, "don't ye mind 
 that day we started outer Livermore Pass, and seed the 
 hull o' the Calif orny coast stretchin' yonder eh? But 
 don't ye be skeered, Rosey dear," he added quickly, as if 
 in recognition of the alarm expressed in her face. "I ain't 
 turning ye outer house and home; I 've jist hired that 'ere 
 Madrono Cottage from the Peters ontil we kin look round. " 
 
 "But you're not leaving the ship, father," continued
 
 302 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 Kosey impetuously. "You have n't sold it to that man 
 Sleight?" 
 
 Mr. Nott rose and carefully closed the cabin door. Then 
 drawing a large wallet from his pocket, he said, " It 's sin- 
 g'lar ye should hev got the name right the first pop, ain't 
 it, Kosey? but it's Sleight sure enough, all the time. 
 This yer check," he added, producing a paper from the 
 depths of the wallet, "this yer check for $25,000 is wot 
 he paid for it only two hours ago." 
 
 "But," said Eenshaw, springing to his feet furiously, 
 "you 're duped, swindled betrayed ! " 
 
 "Young man," said Nott, throwing a certain dignity 
 into his habitual gesture of placing his hands on Eenshaw 's 
 shoulders, "I bought this yer ship five years ago jist ez 
 she stood for $8000. Kalkilatin' wot she cost me in 
 repairs and taxes, and wot she brought me in since then, 
 accordin' to my figgerin', I don't call a clear profit of 
 $15,000 much of a swindle." 
 
 "Tell him all," said Eosey quickly, more alarmed at 
 Eenshaw 's despairing face than at the news itself. "Tell 
 him everything, Dick Mr. Eenshaw; it may not be too 
 late." 
 
 In a voice half choked with passionate indignation Een- 
 shaw hurriedly repeated the story of the hidden treasure, 
 and the plot to rescue it, prompted frequently by Eosey's 
 tenacious memory and assisted by her deft and tactful ex- 
 planations. But to their surprise the imperturbable counte- 
 nance of Abner Nott never altered; a slight moisture of 
 kindly paternal tolerance of their extravagance glistened 
 in his little eyes, but nothing more. 
 
 "Ef there was a part o' this ship, a plank or a bolt ez 
 I don't know, ez I hev n't touched with my own hand, 
 and looked into with my own eyes, thar might be suthin' 
 in that story. I don't let on to be a sailor like you, but 
 ez I know the ship ez a boy knows his first hoss, as a wo-
 
 A SHIP OF '49 303 
 
 man knows her first babby, I reckon thar ain't no treasure 
 yer onless it was brought into the Pontiac last night by 
 them chaps." 
 
 " But are you mad ? Sleight would not pay three times 
 the value of the ship to-day if he were not positive ! And 
 that positive knowledge was gained last night by the villain 
 who broke into the Pontiac no doubt the Lascar." 
 
 "Surely," said Nott meditatively. "The Lascar ! 
 There 's suthin' in that. That Lascar I fastened down in 
 the hold last night unbeknownst to you, Mr. Kenshaw, 
 and let him out again this morning ekally unbeknownst." 
 
 "And you let him carry his information to Sleight 
 without a word ! " said Eenshaw, with a sickening sense of 
 Nott's utter fatuity. 
 
 "I sent him back with a message to the man he kern 
 from," said Nott, winking both his eyes at Eenshaw sig- 
 nificantly, and making signs behind his daughter's back. 
 
 Eosey, conscious of her lover's irritation, and more eager 
 to soothe his impatience than from any faith in her sugges- 
 tion, interfered. "Why not examine the place where he 
 was concealed 1 he may have left some traces of his search. " 
 
 The two men looked at each other. " Seein' ez I 've 
 turned the Pontiac over to Sleight jist as it stands, I don't 
 know ez it 's 'zactly on the square," said Nott doubtfully. 
 
 " You 've a right to know at least what you deliver to 
 him," interrupted Kenshaw brusquely. "Bring a lantern." 
 
 Followed by Eosey, Eenshaw and Nott hurriedly sought 
 the lower deck and the open hatch of the forehold. The 
 two men leaped down first with the lantern, and then as- 
 sisted Eosey to descend. Eenshaw took a step forward and 
 uttered a cry. 
 
 The rays of the lantern fell on the ship's side. The 
 Lascar had, during his forced seclusion, put back the boxes 
 of treasure and replaced the planking, yet not so carefully 
 but that the quick eye of Eenshaw had discovered it. The
 
 304 A SHIP OF '49 
 
 next moment he had stripped away the planking again, 
 and the hurriedly restored box which the Lascar had found 
 fell to the deck, scattering part of its ringing contents. 
 Eosey turned pale; Eenshaw 's eyes flashed fire; onlyAbner 
 Nott remained quiet and impassive. 
 
 " Are you satisfied you have been duped ? " said Een- 
 shaw passionately. 
 
 To their surprise Mr. Nott stooped down, and picking 
 up one of the coins, handed it gravely to Eenshaw. 
 "Would ye mind heftin' that 'ere coin in your hand 
 feelin' it, bitin' it, scrapin' it with a knife, and kinder 
 seein' how it compares with other coins ? " 
 
 "What do you mean?" said Eenshaw. 
 
 " I mean that that yer coin that all the coins in this 
 yer box, that all the coins in them other boxes and 
 thar 's forty on 'em is all and every one of 'em coun- 
 terfeits!" 
 
 The piece dropped unconsciously from Kenshaw's hand, 
 and striking another that lay on the deck, gave out a dull, 
 suspicious ring. 
 
 "They waz counterfeits got up by them Dutch super- 
 cargo sharps for dealin' with the Injins and cannibals and 
 South Sea heathens ez bows down to wood and stone. It 
 satisfied them ez well ez them buttons ye puts in mission- 
 ary boxes, I reckon, and, 'cepting ez freight, don't cost 
 nothin'. I found 'em tucked in the ribs o' the old Pontiac 
 when I bought her, and I nailed 'em up in thar lest they 
 should fall into dishonest hands. It 's a lucky thing, Mr. 
 Eenshaw, that they comes into the honest fingers of a 
 square man like Sleight ain't it ? " 
 
 He turned his small, guileless eyes upon Eenshaw with 
 such childlike simplicity that it checked the hysterical 
 laugh that was rising to the young man's lips. 
 
 " But did any one know of this but yourself ? " 
 
 "I reckon not. I once suspicioned that old Cap'en
 
 A SHIP OF '49 305 
 
 Bower, who was always foolin' round the hold yer, must 
 hev noticed the bulge in the casin', but when he took to 
 axin' questions I axed others ye know my style, Rosey ? 
 Come." 
 
 He led the way grimly back to the cabin, the young 
 people following; but turning suddenly at the companion- 
 way, he observed Renshaw's arm around the waist of his 
 daughter. He said nothing until they had reached the 
 cabin, when he closed the door softly, and, looking at them 
 both gently, said with infinite cunning : 
 
 "Ef it isn't too late, Rosey, ye kin tell this young 
 man ez how I forgive him for havin' diskivered THE 
 TREASURE of the Pontiac." 
 
 It was nearly eighteen months afterwards that Mr. Nott 
 one morning entered the room of his son-in-law at Ma- 
 drono Cottage. Drawing him aside, he said, with his old 
 air of mystery, "Now ez Rosey 's ailin' and don't seem to 
 be so eager to diskiver what 's become of Mr. Ferrers, I 
 don't mind tellin' ye that over a year ago I heard he died 
 suddenly in Sacramento. Thar was suthin' in the paper 
 about his bein' a lunatic and claimin' to be a relation to 
 somebody on the Pontiac; but likes ez not it's only the 
 way those newspaper fellows got hold of the story of his 
 wantin' to marry Rosey."
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TITLES 
 
 I 
 
 ON October 10, 1856, about four hundred people were 
 camped in Tasajara Valley, California. It could not have 
 been for the prospect, since a more barren, dreary, monot- 
 onous, and uninviting landscape never stretched before 
 human eye ; it could not have been for convenience or con- 
 tiguity, as the nearest settlement was thirty miles away; it 
 could not have been for health or salubrity, as the breath 
 of the ague-haunted tules in the outlying Stockton marshes 
 swept through the valley; it could not have been for space 
 or comfort, for, encamped on an unlimited plain, men and 
 women were huddled together as closely as in an urban 
 tenement-house, without the freedom or decency of rural 
 isolation; it could not have been for pleasant companion- 
 ship, as dejection, mental anxiety, tears, and lamentation 
 were the dominant expression ; it was not a hurried flight 
 from present or impending calamity, for the camp had been 
 deliberately planned, and for a week pioneer wagons had 
 been slowly arriving; it was not an irrevocable exodus, for 
 some had already returned to their homes that others might 
 take their places. It was simply a religious revival of one 
 or two denominational sects, known as a "camp-meeting." 
 
 A large central tent served for the assembling of the 
 principal congregation; smaller tents served for prayer- 
 meetings and class-rooms, known to the few unbelievers as 
 " side-shows ; " while the actual dwellings of the worship- 
 ers were rudely extemporized shanties of boards and canvas, 
 sometimes mere corrals or inclosures open to the cloudless
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 307 
 
 sky, or more often the unhitched covered wagon which 
 had brought them there. The singular resemblance to a 
 circus, already profanely suggested, was carried out by a 
 straggling fringe of boys and half-grown men on the out- 
 skirts of the encampment, acrimonious with disappointed 
 curiosity, lazy without the careless ease of vagrancy, and 
 vicious without the excitement of dissipation. For the 
 coarse poverty and brutal economy of the larger arrange- 
 ments, the dreary panorama of unlovely and unwholesome 
 domestic details always before the eyes, were hardly excit- 
 ing to the senses. The circus might have been more dan- 
 gerous, but scarcely more brutalizing. The actors them- 
 selves, hard and aggressive through practical struggles, 
 often warped and twisted with chronic forms of smaller 
 diseases, or malformed and crippled through carelessness 
 and neglect, and restless and uneasy through some vague 
 mental distress and inquietude that they had added to their 
 burdens, were scarcely amusing performers. The rheu- 
 matic Parkinsons, from Green Springs; the ophthalmic 
 Filgees, from Alder Creek; the ague-stricken Harneys, 
 from Martinez Bend; and the feeble-limbed Steptons, 
 from Sugar Mill, might, in their combined families, have 
 suggested a hospital, rather than any other social assem- 
 blage. Even their companionship, which had little of 
 cheerful fellowship in it, would have been grotesque but 
 for the pathetic instinct of some mutual vague appeal from 
 the hardness of their lives and the helplessness of their 
 conditions that had brought them together. Nor was this 
 appeal to a Higher Power any the less pathetic that it bore 
 no reference whatever to their respective needs or deficien- 
 cies, but was always an invocation for a light which, when 
 they believed they had found it, to unregenerate eyes 
 scarcely seemed to illumine the rugged path in which their 
 feet were continually stumbling. One might have smiled 
 at the idea of the vendetta-following Ferguses praying for
 
 308 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 "justification by Faith," but the actual spectacle of old 
 Simon Fergus, whose shot-gun was still in his wagon, 
 offering up that appeal with streaming eyes and agonized 
 features, was painful beyond a doubt. To seek and obtain 
 an exaltation of feeling vaguely known as "It," or less 
 vaguely veiling a sacred name, was the burden of the gen- 
 eral appeal. 
 
 The large tent had been filled, and between the exhorta- 
 tions a certain gloomy enthusiasm had been kept up by 
 singing, which had the effect of continuing in an easy, 
 rhythmical, impersonal, and irresponsible way the sympa- 
 thies of the meeting. This was interrupted by a young 
 man who rose suddenly with that spontaneity of impulse 
 which characterized the speakers; but unlike his predeces- 
 sors, he remained for a moment mute, trembling, and irreso- 
 lute. The fatal hesitation seemed to check the unreason- 
 ing, monotonous flow of emotion and to recall to some 
 extent the reason and even the criticism of the worshipers. 
 He stammered a prayer whose earnestness was undoubted, 
 whose humility was but too apparent, but his words fell on 
 faculties already benumbed by repetition and rhythm. A 
 slight movement of curiosity in the rear benches, and a 
 whisper that it was the maiden effort of a new preacher, 
 helped to prolong the interruption. A heavy man of 
 strong physical expression sprang to the rescue with a hys- 
 terical cry of " Glory ! " and a tumultuous fluency of epi- 
 thet and sacred adjuration. Still the meeting wavered. 
 With one final paroxysmal cry, the powerful man threw 
 his arms around his nearest neighbor and burst into silent 
 tears. An anxious hush followed; the speaker still con- 
 tinued to sob on his neighbor's shoulder. Almost before 
 the fact could be commented upon, it was noticed that the 
 entire rank of worshipers on the bench beside him were 
 crying also ; the second and third rows were speedily dis- 
 solved in tears, until even the very youthful scoffers in the
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TITLES 309 
 
 last benches suddenly found their half-hysterical laughter 
 turned to sobs. The danger was averted, the reaction was 
 complete; the singing commenced, and in a few moments 
 the hapless cause of the interruption and the man who had 
 retrieved the disaster stood together outside the tent. A 
 horse was picketed near them. 
 
 The victor was still panting from his late exertions, 
 and was more or less diluvial in eye and nostril, but 
 neither eye nor nostril bore the slightest tremor of other 
 expression. His face was stolid and perfectly in keeping 
 with his physique, heavy, animal, and unintelligent. 
 
 "Ye oughter trusted in the Lord," he said to the young 
 preacher. 
 
 "But I did," responded the young man earnestly. 
 
 "That's it. Justifyin' yourself by works instead o' 
 leanin' onto Him! Find Him, sez you! Git Him, sez 
 you ! Works is vain. Glory ! glory ! " he continued, with 
 fluent vacuity and wandering, dull, observant eyes. 
 
 "But if I had a little more practice in class, Brother 
 Silas, more education 1 " 
 
 "The letter killeth," interrupted Brother Silas. Here 
 his wandering eyes took dull cognizance of two female faces 
 peering through the opening of the tent. " No, yet mishun, 
 Brother Gideon, is to seek Him in the byways, in the 
 wilderness, where the foxes hev holes and the ravens 
 hev their young, but not in the Temples of the people. 
 Wot sez Sister Parsons ? " 
 
 One of the female faces detached itself from the tent 
 flaps, which it nearly resembled in color, and brought for- 
 ward an angular figure clothed in faded fustian that had 
 taken the various shades and odors of household service. 
 
 "Brother Silas speaks well," said Sister Parsons, with 
 stridulous fluency. "It 's foreordained. Fore-ordinashun 
 is better nor ordinashun, saith the Lord. He shall go 
 forth, turnin' neither to the right hand nor the left hand,
 
 310 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 and seek Him among the lost tribes and the ungodly. He 
 shall put aside the temptashun of Mammon and the flesh. " 
 Her eyes and those of Brother Silas here both sought the 
 other female face, which was that of a young girl of seven- 
 teen. 
 
 " Wot sez little Sister Meely, wot sez Meely Parsons ? " 
 continued Brother Silas, as if repeating an unctuous for- 
 mula. 
 
 The young girl came hesitatingly forward, and with a 
 nervous cry of " Oh, Gideon ! " threw herself on the breast 
 of the young man. 
 
 For a moment they remained locked in each other's 
 arms. In the promiscuous and fraternal embracings which 
 were a part of the devotional exercises of the hour, the act 
 passed without significance. The young man gently raised 
 her face. She was young and comely, albeit marked with 
 a half -frightened, half- vacant sorrow. " Amen ! " said 
 Brother Gideon gravely. 
 
 He mounted his horse and turned to go. Brother Silas 
 had clasped his powerful arms around both women, and 
 was holding them in a ponderous embrace. 
 
 "Go forth, young man, into the wilderness." 
 
 The young man bowed his head, and urged his horse 
 forward in the bleak and barren plain. In half an hour 
 every vestige of the camp and its unwholesome surround- 
 ings was lost in the distance. It was as if the strong desic- 
 cating wind, which seemed to spring up at his horse's feet, 
 had cleanly erased the flimsy structures from the face of the 
 plain, swept away the lighter breath of praise and plaint, 
 and dried up the easy flowing tears. The air was harsh 
 but pure; the grim economy of form and shade and color 
 in the level plain was coarse but not vulgar; the sky above 
 him was cold and distant but not repellent, the moisture 
 that had been denied his eyes at the prayer-meeting over- 
 flowed them here ; the words that had choked his utterance
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 311 
 
 an hour ago now rose to his lips. He threw himself from 
 his horse, and kneeling hi the withered grass, a mere 
 atom in the boundless plain, lifted his pale face against 
 the irresponsive blue and prayed. 
 
 He prayed that the unselfish dream of his bitter boy- 
 hood, his disappointed youth, might come to pass. He 
 prayed that he might in higher hands become the humble 
 instrument of good to his fellow man. He prayed that the 
 deficiencies of his scant education, his self-taught learning, 
 his helpless isolation, and his inexperience might be over- 
 looked or reinforced by grace. He prayed that the Infinite 
 Compassion might enlighten his ignorance and solitude 
 with a manifestation of the Spirit; in his very weakness 
 he prayed for some special revelation, some sign or token, 
 some visitation or gracious unbending from that coldly 
 lifting sky. The low sun burned the black edge of the 
 distant tules Avith dull eating fires as he prayed, lit the 
 dwarfed hills with a brief but ineffectual radiance, and 
 then died out. The lingering trade winds fired a few 
 volleys over its grave, and then lapsed into a chilly silence. 
 The young man staggered to his feet; it was quite dark 
 now, but the coming night had advanced a few starry ve- 
 dettes so near the plain they looked like human watch- 
 fires. For an instant he could not remember where he was. 
 Then a light trembled far down at the entrance of the val- 
 ley. Brother Gideon recognized it. It was in the lonely 
 farmhouse of the widow of the last Circuit preacher. 
 
 n 
 
 The abode of the late Eeverend Marvin Hiler remained 
 in the disorganized condition he had left it when removed 
 from his sphere of earthly uselessness and continuous ac- 
 cident. The straggling fence that only half inclosed the 
 house and barn had stopped at that point where the two 
 deacons who had each volunteered to do a day's work on
 
 312 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 it had completed their allotted time. The building of the 
 barn had been arrested when the half load of timber con- 
 tributed by Sugar Mill brethren was exhausted, and three 
 windows given by " Christian Seekers " at Martinez pain- 
 fully accented the boarded spaces for the other three that 
 " Unknown Friends " in Tasajara had promised but not yet 
 supplied. In the clearing some trees that had been felled 
 but not taken away added to the general incompleteness. 
 
 Something of this unfinished character clung to the 
 Widow Hiler and asserted itself in her three children, one 
 of whom was consistently posthumous. Prematurely old 
 and prematurely disappointed, she had all the inexperience 
 of girlhood with the cares of maternity, and kept in her 
 family circle the freshness of an old maid's misogynistic 
 antipathies with a certain guilty and remorseful conscious- 
 ness of widowhood. She supported the meagre house- 
 hold to which her husband had contributed only the extra 
 mouths to feed with reproachful astonishment and weary 
 incapacity. She had long since grown tired of trying to 
 make both ends meet of which she declared "the Lord had 
 taken one." During her two years' widowhood she had 
 waited on Providence, who by a pleasing local fiction had 
 been made responsible for the disused and cast-off furni- 
 ture and clothing which, accompanied with scriptural texts, 
 found their way mysteriously into her few habitable rooms. 
 The providential manna was not always fresh ; the ravens 
 who fed her and her little ones with flour from the Sugar 
 Mills did not always select the best quality. Small won- 
 der that, sitting by her lonely hearthstone, a borrowed 
 stove that supplemented the unfinished fireplace, sur- 
 rounded by her mismatched furniture and clad in misfitting 
 garments, she had contracted a habit of sniffling during her 
 dreary watches. In her weaker moments she attributed it 
 to grief; in her stronger intervals she knew that it sprang 
 from damp and draught.
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 313 
 
 In her apathy the sound of horses' hoofs at her unpro- 
 tected door even at that hour neither surprised nor alarmed 
 her. She lifted her head as the door opened, and the pale 
 face of Gideon Deane looked into the room. She moved 
 aside the cradle she was rocking, and taking a saucepan 
 and teacup from a chair heside her, absently dusted it with 
 her apron, and pointing to the vacant seat, said, "Take a 
 chair " as quietly as if he had stepped from the next room 
 instead of the outer darkness. 
 
 "I '11 put up my horse first," said Gideon gently. 
 
 "So do," responded the widow briefly. 
 
 Gideon led his horse across the inclosure, stumbling over 
 the heaps of rubbish, dried chips, and weather-beaten shav- 
 ings with which it was strewn, until he reached the unfin- 
 ished barn, where he temporarily bestowed his beast. 
 Then taking a rusty axe, by the faint light of the stars, he 
 attacked one of the fallen trees with such energy that at 
 the end of ten minutes he reappeared at the door with an 
 armful of cut boughs and chips, which he quietly deposited 
 behind the stove. Observing that he was still standing as 
 if looking for something, the widow lifted her eyes and 
 said, "Ef it's the bucket, I reckon ye '11 find it at the 
 spring, where one of them foolish Filgee boys left it. 
 I 've been that tuckered out sens sundown, I ain't had the 
 ambition to go and tote it back." Without a word Gideon 
 repaired to the spring, filled the missing bucket, replaced 
 the hoop on the loosened staves of another he found lying 
 useless beside it, and again returned to the house. The 
 widow once more pointed to the chair, and Gideon sat 
 down. "It's quite a spell sens you wos here," said the 
 Widow Hiler, returning her foot to the cradle-rocker; 
 "not sens yer was ordained. Be'n practicing I reckon, 
 at the meetin'." 
 
 A slight color came into his cheek. "My place is not 
 there, Sister Hiler," he said gently; "it's for those with
 
 314 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 the gift o' tongues. I go forth only a common laborer in 
 the vineyard." He stopped and hesitated; he might have 
 said more, but the widow, who was familiar with that kind 
 of humility as the ordinary perfunctory expression of her 
 class, suggested no sympathetic interest in his mission. 
 
 "Thar's a deal o' talk over there," she said dryly, 
 "and thar 's folks ez thinks thar 's a deal o' money spent in 
 picnicking the Gospel that might be given to them ez wish 
 to spread it, or to their widows and children. But that 
 don't consarn you, Brother Gideon. Sister Parsons hez 
 money enough to settle her darter Meely comfortably on 
 her own land; and I 've heard tell that you and Meely was 
 only waitin' till you was ordained to be jined together. 
 You '11 hev an easier time of it, Brother Gideon, than poor 
 Marvin Hiler had," she continued, suppressing her tears 
 with a certain astringency that took the place of her lost 
 pride; "but the Lord wills that some should be tried and 
 some not." 
 
 "But I am not going to marry Meely Parsons," said 
 Gideon quietly. 
 
 The widow took her foot from the rocker. " Not marry 
 Meely ! " she repeated vaguely. But relapsing into her de- 
 spondent mood, she continued: "Then I reckon it 's true 
 what other folks sez of Brother Silas Braggley rnakin' up 
 to her and his powerful exhortin' influence over her ma. 
 Folks sez ez Sister Parsons hez just resigned her soul inter 
 his keepin'." 
 
 " Brother Silas hez a heavenly gift, " said the young man, 
 with gentle enthusiasm; "and perhaps it may be so. If 
 it is, it is the Lord's will. But I do not marry Meely be- 
 cause my life and my ways henceforth must lie far beyond 
 her sphere of strength. I oughtn't to drag a young, inex- 
 perienced soul with me to battle and struggle in the thorny 
 paths that I must tread." 
 
 "I reckon you know your own mind," said Sister Hilei
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 815 
 
 grimly. "But thai 's folks ez might allow that Meely 
 Parsons ain't any better than others, that she should n't 
 have her share o' trials and keers and crosses. Riches and 
 bringin' up don't exempt folks from the shadder. / mar- 
 ried Marvin Hiler outer a house ez good ez Sister Parsons', 
 and at a time when old Cyrus Parsons had n't a roof to his 
 head but the cover of the emigrant wagon he kem across 
 the plains in. I might say ez Marvin knowed pretty well 
 wot it was to have a helpmeet in his ministration, if it 
 wasn't vanity of sperit to say it now. But the flesh is 
 weak, Brother Gideon." Her influenza here resolved itself 
 into unmistakable tears, which she wiped away with the 
 first article that was accessible in the work-bag before her. 
 As it chanced to be a black silk neckerchief of the deceased 
 Hiler, the result was funereal, suggestive, but practically 
 ineffective. 
 
 "You were a good wife to Brother Hiler," said the 
 young man gently. "Everybody knows that." 
 
 "It'ssuthin' to think of since he's gone," continued 
 the widow, bringing her work nearer to her eyes to adjust 
 it to their tear-dimmed focus. "It'ssuthin' to lay to 
 heart in the lonely days and nights when thar 's no man 
 round to fetch water and wood and lend a hand to doin' 
 chores; it's suthin' to remember, with his three children 
 to feed, and little Selby, the eldest, that vain and useless 
 that he can't even tote the baby round while I do the work 
 of a hired man." 
 
 "It 's a hard trial, Sister Hiler," said Gideon, "but the 
 Lord has His appointed time." 
 
 Familiar as consolation by vague quotation was to Sister 
 Hiler, there was an occult sympathy in the tone in which 
 this was offered that lifted her for an instant out of her 
 narrower self. She raised her eyes to his. The personal 
 abstraction of the devotee had no place in the deep dark 
 eyes that were lifted from the cradle to hers with a sad,
 
 816 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 discriminating, and almost womanly sympathy. Surprised 
 out of her selfish preoccupation, she was reminded of her 
 apparent callousness to what might be his present disap- 
 pointment. Perhaps it seemed strange to her, too, that 
 those tender eyes should go a-begging. 
 
 "Yer takin' a Christian view of yer own disappoint- 
 ment, Brother Gideon," she said, with less astringency of 
 manner; "but every heart knoweth its own sorrer. I'll 
 be gettin' supper now that the baby 's sleepin' sound, and 
 ye '11 sit by and eat." 
 
 "If you let me help you, Sister Hiler," said the young 
 man with a cheerfulness that belied any overwhelming 
 heart affection, and awakened in the widow a feminine 
 curiosity as to his real feelings to Meely. But her further 
 questioning was met with a frank, amiable, and simple 
 brevity that was as puzzling as the most artful periphrase 
 of tact. Accustomed as she was to the loquacity of grief 
 and the confiding prolixity of disappointed lovers, she could 
 not understand her guest's quiescent attitude. Her curi- 
 osity, however, soon gave way to the habitual contempla- 
 tion of her own sorrows, and she could not forego the 
 opportune presence of a sympathizing auditor to whom she 
 could relieve her feelings. The preparations for the even- 
 ing meal were therefore accompanied by a dreary monotone 
 of lamentation. She bewailed her lost youth, her brief 
 courtship, the struggles of her early married life, her pre- 
 mature widowhood, her penurious and helpless existence, 
 the disruption of all her present ties, the hopelessness of 
 the future. She rehearsed the unending plaint of those 
 long evenings, set to the music of the restless wind around 
 her bleak dwelling, with something of its stridulous reitera- 
 tion. The young man listened, and replied with softly 
 assenting eyes, but without pausing in the material aid that 
 he was quietly giving her. He had removed the cradle 
 of the sleeping child to the bedroom, quieted the sudden
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TITLES 317 
 
 wakefulness of "Pinkey," rearranged the straggling fur- 
 niture of the sitting-room with much order and tidiness, 
 repaired the hinges of a rebellious shutter and the lock of 
 an unyielding door, and yet had apparently retained an 
 unabated interest in her spoken woes. Surprised once 
 more into recognizing this devotion, Sister Hiler abruptly 
 arrested her monologue. 
 
 "Well, if you ain't the handiest man I ever seed about 
 a house ! " 
 
 " Am I ? " said Gideon, with suddenly sparkling eyes. 
 "Do you really think so?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Then you don't know how glad I am." His frank 
 face so unmistakably showed his simple gratification that 
 the widow, after gazing at him for a moment, was sud- 
 denly seized with a bewildering fancy. The first effect of 
 it was the abrupt withdrawal of her eyes, then a sudden 
 effusion of blood to her forehead that finally extended to 
 her cheek-bones, and then an interval of forgetfulness 
 where she remained with a plate held vaguely in her hand. 
 When she succeeded at last in putting it on the table in- 
 stead of the young man's lap, she said in a voice quite 
 unlike her own : 
 
 "Sho!" 
 
 "I mean it," said Gideon cheerfully. After a pause, 
 in which he unostentatiously rearranged the table which 
 the widow was abstractedly disorganizing, he said gently, 
 "After tea, when you 're not so much flustered with work 
 and worry, and more composed in spirit, we '11 have a little 
 talk, Sister Hiler. I 'm in no hurry to-night, and if you 
 don't mind I '11 make myself comfortable in the barn with 
 my blanket until sunup to-morrow. I can get up early 
 enough to do some odd chores round the lot before I go." 
 
 "You know best, Brother Gideon," said the widow 
 faintly, "and if you think it's the Lord's will, and no
 
 318 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 speshal trouble to you, so do. But sakes alive ! it 's time 
 I tidied myself a little," she continued, lifting one hand 
 to her hair, while with the other she endeavored to fasten 
 a buttonless collar; "leavin' alone the vanities o' dress, 
 it 's ez much as one can do to keep a clean rag on with the 
 children climbin' over ye. Sit by, and I '11 be back in a 
 minit." She retired to the back room, and in a few mo- 
 ments returned with smoothed hair and a palm-leaf broche' 
 shawl thrown over her shoulders, which not only concealed 
 the ravages made by time and maternity on the gown be- 
 neath, but to some extent gave her the suggestion of being 
 a casual visitor in her own household. It must be con- 
 fessed that for the rest of the evening Sister Hiler rather 
 lent herself to this idea, possibly from the fact that it tem- 
 porarily obliterated the children, and quite removed her from 
 any responsibility in the unpicturesque household. This 
 effect was only marred by the absence of any impression 
 upon Gideon, who scarcely appeared to notice the change, 
 and whose soft eyes seemed rather to identify the miserable 
 woman under her forced disguise. He prefaced the meal 
 with a fervent grace, to which the widow listened with 
 something of the conscious attitude she had adopted at 
 church during her late husband's ministration, and during 
 the meal she ate with a like consciousness of "company 
 manners. " 
 
 Later that evening Selby Hiler woke up in his little 
 truckle bed, listening to the rising midnight wind, which 
 in his childish fancy he confounded with the sound of voices 
 that came through the open door of the living-room. He 
 recognized the deep voice of the young minister, Gideon, 
 and the occasional tearful responses of his mother, and he 
 was fancying himself again at church when he heard a 
 step, and the young preacher seemed to enter the room, 
 and going to the bed leaned over it and kissed him on the 
 forehead, and then bent over his little brother and sister
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 319 
 
 and kissed them too. Then he slowly reentered the living- 
 room. Lifting himself softly on his elbow, Selby saw him 
 go up towards his mother, who was crying, with her head 
 on the table, and kiss her also on the forehead. Then he 
 said " Good- night, " and the front door closed, and Selby 
 heard his footsteps crossing the lot towards the barn. His 
 mother was still sitting with her face buried in her hands 
 when he fell asleep. 
 
 She sat by the dying embers of the fire until the house 
 was still again; then she rose and wiped her eyes. "Et 's 
 a good thing," she said, going to the bedroom door, and 
 looking in upon her sleeping children; "et 's a mercy and 
 a blessing for them and for me. But but he 
 might hev said he loved me ! " 
 
 m 
 
 Although Gideon Deane contrived to find a nest for his 
 blanket in the mouldy straw of the unfinished barn loft, he 
 could not sleep. He restlessly watched the stars through 
 the cracks of the boarded roof, and listened to the wind 
 that made the half-open structure as vocal as a sea-shell, 
 until past midnight. Once or twice he had fancied he 
 heard the tramp of horse-hoofs on the far-off trail, and 
 now it seemed to approach nearer, mingled with the sound 
 of voices. Gideon raised his head and looked through the 
 doorway of the loft. He was not mistaken; two men had 
 halted in the road before the house, and were examining 
 it as. if uncertain if it were the dwelling they were seeking, 
 and were hesitating if they should rouse the inmates. 
 Thinking he might spare the widow this disturbance to her 
 slumbers, and possibly some alarm, he rose quickly, and 
 descending to the inclosure walked towards the house. As 
 he approached the men advanced to meet him, and by acci- 
 dent or design ranged themselves on either side. A glance 
 showed him they were strangers to the locality.
 
 320 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 "We're lookin' fer the preacher that lives here," said 
 one, who seemed to be the elder. " A man by the name o' 
 Hiler, I reckon!" 
 
 "Brother Hiler has been dead two years," responded 
 Gideon. "His widow and children live here." 
 
 The two men looked at each other. The younger one 
 laughed; the elder mumbled something about its being 
 "three years ago," and then turning suddenly on Gideon, 
 said : 
 
 " P'r'aps you 're a preacher ? " 
 
 "I am." 
 
 " Can you come to a dying man ? " 
 
 "I will." 
 
 The two men again looked at each other. "But," con- 
 tinued Gideon softly, " you '11 please keep quiet so as not 
 to disturb the widow and her children while I get my 
 horse. " He turned away ; the younger man made a move- 
 ment as if to stop him, but the elder quickly restrained his 
 hand. "He isn't goin' to run away," he whispered. 
 "Look," he added, as Gideon a moment later reappeared 
 mounted and equipped. 
 
 "Do you think we '11 be in time?" asked the young 
 preacher as they rode quickly away in the direction of the 
 tules. 
 
 The younger repressed a laugh; the other answered 
 grimly, "I reckon." 
 
 "And is he conscious of his danger? " 
 
 "I reckon." 
 
 'Gideon did not speak again. But as the onus of that 
 silence seemed to rest upon the other two, the last speaker, 
 after a few moments' silent and rapid riding, continued 
 abruptly, "You don't seem curious?" 
 
 " Of what ? " said Gideon, lifting his soft eyes to the 
 speaker. " You tell me of a brother at the point of death, 
 who seeks the Lord through an humble vessel like myself. 
 He will tell me the rest."
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 321 
 
 A silence still more constrained on the part of the two 
 strangers followed, which they endeavored to escape from 
 by furious riding; so that in half an hour the party had 
 reached a point where the tules began to sap the arid plain, 
 while beyond them broadened the lagoons of the distant 
 river. In the foreground, near a clump of dwarfed wil- 
 lows, a camp-fire was burning, around which fifteen or 
 twenty armed men were collected, their horses picketed in 
 an outer circle guarded by two mounted sentries. A 
 blasted cottonwood with a single black arm extended over 
 the tules stood ominously against the dark sky. 
 
 The circle opened to receive them and closed again. 
 The elder man dismounted, and leading Gideon to the 
 blasted cottonwood, pointed to a pinioned man seated at 
 its foot with an armed guard over him. He looked up at 
 Gideon with an amused smile. 
 
 "You said it was a dying man," said Gideon, recoiling. 
 
 "He will be a dead man in half an hour," returned the 
 stranger. 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 "We are the Vigilantes from Alamo. This man," 
 pointing to the prisoner, "is a gambler who killed a man 
 yesterday. We hunted him here, tried him an hour ago, 
 and found him guilty. The last man we hung here, three 
 years ago, asked for a parson. We brought him the man 
 who used to live where we found you. So we thought 
 we 'd give this man the same show, and brought you." 
 
 "And if I refuse? " said Gideon. 
 
 The leader shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "That's his lookout, not ours. We've given him the 
 chance. Drive ahead, boys," he added, turning to the 
 others; "the parson allows he won't take a hand." 
 
 "One moment," said Gideon, in desperation, "one mo- 
 ment, for the sake of that God you have brought me here 
 to invoke in behalf of this wretched man. One moment,
 
 322 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 for the sake of Him in whose presence you must stand one 
 day as he does now." With passionate earnestness he 
 pointed out the vindictive impulse they were mistaking for 
 Divine justice; with pathetic fervency he fell upon his 
 knees and implored their mercy for the culprit. But in 
 vain. As at the camp-meeting of the day before, he was 
 chilled to find his words seemed to fall on unheeding and 
 unsympathetic ears. He looked around on their abstracted 
 faces; in their gloomy savage enthusiasm for expiatory 
 sacrifice, he was horrified to find the same unreasoning 
 exaltation that had checked his exhortations then. Only 
 one face looked upon his, half mischievously, half compas- 
 sionately. It was the prisoner's. 
 
 "Yer wastin' time on us," said the leader dryly; 
 "wastin' his time. Hadn't you better talk to him? " 
 
 Gideon rose to his feet, pale and cold. "He may have 
 something to confess. May I speak with him alone ? " he 
 said gently. 
 
 The leader motioned to the sentry to fall back. Gideon 
 placed himself before the prisoner so that in the faint light 
 of the camp-fire the man's figure was partly hidden by his 
 own. "You meant well with your little bluff, pardner," 
 said the prisoner, not unkindly, "but they 've got the cards 
 to win." 
 
 "Kneel down with your back to me," said Gideon in 
 a low voice. The prisoner fell on his knees. At the same 
 time he felt Gideon's hand and the gliding of steel behind 
 his back, and the severed cords hung loosely on his arms 
 and legs. 
 
 "When I lift my voice to God, brother," said Gideon 
 softly, " drop on your face and crawl as far as you can in a 
 straight line in my shadow, then break for the tules. I 
 will stand between you and their first fire." 
 
 "Are you mad?" said the prisoner. "Do you think 
 they won't fire lest they should hurt you? Man! they '11 
 kill you, the first thing."
 
 Break for the Tules
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 323 
 
 "So be it if your chance is better." 
 
 Still on his knees, the man grasped Gideon's two hands 
 in his own and devoured him with his eyes. 
 
 "You mean it?" 
 ' "I do." 
 
 "Then," said the prisoner quietly, "I reckon I'll stop 
 and hear what you 've got to say about God until they 're 
 ready." 
 
 " You refuse to fly ? " 
 
 "I reckon I was never better fitted to die than now," 
 said the prisoner, still grasping his hand. After a pause 
 he added in a lower tone, "I can't pray but I think," 
 he hesitated "I think I could manage to ring in in a 
 hymn. " 
 
 "Will you try, brother?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 With their hands tightly clasped together, Gideon lifted 
 his gentle voice. The air was a common one, familiar in 
 the local religious gatherings, and after the first verse one 
 or two of the sullen lookers-on joined not unkindly in the 
 refrain. But as he went on the air and words seemed to 
 offer a vague expression to the dull, lowering animal emo- 
 tion of the savage concourse; and at the end of the second 
 verse the refrain, augmented in volume and swelled by 
 every voice in the camp, swept out over the hollow plain. 
 
 It was met in the distance by a far-off cry. With an 
 oath taking the place of his supplication, the leader sprang 
 to his feet. But too late! The cry was repeated as a 
 nearer slogan of defiance the plain shook there was the 
 tempestuous onset of furious hoofs a dozen shots the 
 scattering of the embers of the camp-fire into a thousand 
 vanishing sparks even as the lurid gathering of savage hu- 
 manity was dispersed and dissipated over the plain, and 
 Gideon and the prisoner stood alone. But as the sheriff of 
 Contra Costa with his rescuing posse swept by, the man
 
 324 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 they had come to save fell forward in Gideon's arms with 
 a bullet in his breast the Parthian shot of the flying Vigi- 
 lante leader. 
 
 The eager crowd that surged around him with out- 
 stretched, helping hands would have hustled Gideon aside. 
 But the wounded man roused himself, and throwing an arm 
 around the young preacher's neck, warned them back with 
 the other. "Stand back!" he gasped. "He risked his 
 life for mine ! Look at him, boys ! Wanted ter stand 
 up 'twixt them hounds and me and draw their fire on him- 
 self ! Ain't he just hell ? " he stopped; an apologetic smile 
 crossed his lips. "I clean forgot, pardner; but it's all 
 right. I said I was ready to go; and I am." His arm 
 slipped from Gideon's neck; he slid to the ground; he 
 had fainted. 
 
 A dark, military-looking man pushed his way through 
 the crowd the surgeon, one of the posse, accompanied by 
 a younger man fastidiously dressed. The former bent 
 over the unconscious prisoner, and tore open his shirt; the 
 latter followed his movements with a flush of anxious in- 
 quiry in his handsome, careless face. After a moment's 
 pause the surgeon, without looking up, answered the young 
 man's mute questioning. "Better send the sheriff here 
 at once, Jack." 
 
 "He is here," responded the official, joining the group. 
 
 The surgeon looked up at him. "I am afraid they 've 
 put the case out of your jurisdiction, sheriff," he said 
 grimly. "It 's only a matter of a day or two at best per- 
 haps only a few hours. But he won't live to be taken 
 back to jail." 
 
 " Will he live to go as far as Martinez ? " asked the 
 young man addressed as Jack. 
 
 "With care, perhaps." 
 
 " Will you be responsible for him, Jack Hamlin ? " said 
 the sheriff suddenly.
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TITLES 325 
 
 "I will." 
 
 "Then take him. Stay, he 's coming to." 
 
 The wounded man slowly opened his eyes. They fell 
 upon Jack Hamlin with a pleased look of recognition, but 
 almost instantly and anxiously glanced around as if seeking 
 another. Leaning over him, Jack said gayly, "They've 
 passed you over to me, old man; are you willing? " 
 
 The wounded man's eyes assented, but still moved rest- 
 lessly from side to side. 
 
 " Is there any one you want to go with you ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the eyes. 
 
 " The doctor, of course ? " 
 
 The eyes did not answer. Gideon dropped on his knees 
 beside him. A ray of light flashed in the helpless man's 
 eyes and transfigured his whole face. 
 
 " You want him ? " said Jack incredulously. 
 
 "Yes," said the eyes. 
 
 " What the preacher ? " 
 
 The lips struggled to speak. Everybody bent down to 
 hear his reply. 
 
 "You bet," he said faintly. 
 
 IV 
 
 It was early morning when the wagon containing the 
 wounded man, Gideon, Jack Hamlin, and the surgeon crept 
 slowly through the streets of Martinez and stopped before 
 the door of the "Palmetto Shades." The upper floor of 
 this saloon and hostelry was occupied by Mr. Hamlin as 
 his private lodgings, and was fitted up with the usual lux- 
 ury and more than the usual fastidiousness of his extrava- 
 gant class. As the dusty and travel-worn party trod the 
 soft carpets and brushed aside the silken hangings in their 
 slow progress with their helpless burden to the lace-cano- 
 pied and snowy couch of the young gambler, it seemed al- 
 most a profanation of some feminine seclusion. Gideon,
 
 326 AN APOSTLE OF THE TITLES 
 
 to whom such luxury was unknown, was profoundly 
 troubled. The voluptuous ease and sensuousness, the re- 
 finements of a life of irresponsible indulgence, affected him 
 with a physical terror to which in his late moment of real 
 peril he had been a stranger; the gilding and mirrors 
 blinded his eyes; even the faint perfume seemed to him 
 an unhallowed incense, and turned him sick and giddy. 
 Accustomed as he had been to disease and misery in their 
 humblest places and meanest surroundings, the wounded 
 desperado lying in laces and fine linen seemed to him mon- 
 strous and unnatural. It required all his self-abnegation, 
 all his sense of duty, all his deep pity, and all the instinc- 
 tive tact which was born of his gentle thoughtfulness for 
 others, to repress a shrinking. But when the miserable 
 cause of all again opened his eyes and sought Gideon's 
 hand, he forgot it all. Happily, Hamlin, *who had been 
 watching him with wondering but critical eyes, mistook 
 his concern. "Don't you worry about that gin-mill and 
 hash- gymnasium downstairs," he said. "I've given the 
 proprietor a thousand dollars to shut up shop as long as 
 this thing lasts." That this was done from some delicate 
 sense of respect to the preacher's domiciliary presence, and 
 not entirely to secure complete quiet and seclusion for the 
 invalid, was evident from the fact that Mr. Hamlin's 
 drawing and dining rooms, and even the hall, were filled 
 with eager friends and inquirers. It was discomposing to 
 Gideon to find himself almost an equal subject of interest 
 and curiosity to the visitors. The story of his simple de- 
 votion had lost nothing by report; hats were doffed in his 
 presence that might have grown to their wearers' heads; 
 the boldest eyes dropped as he passed by; he had only 
 to put his pale face out of the bedroom door and the loud- 
 est discussion, heated by drink or affection, fell to a whis- 
 per. The surgeon, who had recognized the one dominant 
 wish of the hopelessly sinking man, gravely retired, leav-
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 327^ 
 
 ing Gideon a few simple instructions and directions for their 
 use. "He '11 last as long as he has need of you," he said 
 respectfully. " My art is only second here. God help you 
 both ! When he wakes, make the most of your time. " 
 
 In a few moments he did waken, and as before turned 
 his fading look almost instinctively on the faithful, gentle 
 eyes that were watching him. How Gideon made the 
 most of his time did not transpire, but at the end of an 
 hour, when the dying man had again lapsed into uncon- 
 sciousness, he softly opened the door of the sitting-room. 
 
 Hamlin started hastily to his feet. He had cleared the 
 room of his visitors, and was alone. He turned a moment 
 towards the window before he faced Gideon with inquir- 
 ing but curiously shining eyes. 
 
 "Well?" he said hesitatingly. 
 
 " Do you know Kate Somers ? " asked Gideon. 
 
 Hamlin opened his brown eyes. "Yes." 
 
 " Can you send for her 1 " 
 
 "What, h&re?" 
 
 "Yes, here." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "To marry him," said Gideon gently. "There's no 
 time to lose." 
 
 " To marry him ? " 
 
 "He wishes it." 
 
 "But say oh, come, now," said Hamlin confidentially, 
 leaning back with his hands on the top of a chair. "Ain't 
 this playing it a little just a little too low down ? Of 
 course you mean well, and all that; but come, now, say 
 could n't you just let up on him there 1 Why, she " 
 Hamlin softly closed the door "she 's got no character." 
 
 "The more reason he should give her one." 
 
 A cynical knowledge of matrimony imparted to him by 
 the wives of others evidently colored Mr. Hamlin' s views. 
 "Well, perhaps it's all the same if he's going to die.
 
 328 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 But isn't it rather rough on Tier? I don't know," he 
 added reflectively ; " she was sniveling round here a little 
 while ago, until I sent her away." 
 
 " You sent her away ! " echoed Gideon. 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because you were here." 
 
 Nevertheless Mr. Hamlin departed, and in half an 
 hour reappeared with two brilliantly dressed women. One, 
 hysterical, tearful, frightened, and pallid, was the destined 
 bride; the other, highly colored, excited, and pleasedly 
 observant, was her friend. Two men hastily summoned 
 from the anteroom as witnesses completed the group that 
 moved into the bedroom and gathered round the bed. 
 
 The ceremony was simple and brief. It was well, for 
 of all who took part in it none was more shaken by emo- 
 tion than the officiating priest. The brilliant dresses of 
 the women, the contrast of their painted faces with the 
 waxen pallor of the dying man; the terrible incongruity of 
 their voices, inflections, expressions, and familiarity; the 
 mingled perfume of cosmetics and the faint odor of wine; 
 the eyes of the younger woman following his movements 
 with strange absorption, so affected him that he was glad 
 when he could fall on his knees at last and bury his face 
 in the pillow of the sufferer. The hand that had been 
 placed in the bride's cold fingers slipped from them and 
 mechanically sought Gideon's again. The significance of 
 the unconscious act brought the first spontaneous tears into 
 the woman's eyes. It was his last act, for when Gideon's 
 voice was again lifted in prayer, the spirit for whom it 
 was offered had risen with it, as it Avere, still lovingly hand 
 in hand, from the earth forever. 
 
 The funeral was arranged for two days later, and Gideon 
 found that his services had been so seriously yet so humbly 
 counted upon by the friends of the dead man that he could
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 329 
 
 scarce find it in his heart to tell them that it was the func- 
 tion of the local preacher an older and more experienced 
 man than himself. "If it is," said Jack Hamlin coolly, 
 "I'm afraid he won't get a yaller dog to come to his 
 church; but if you say you'll preach at the grave, there 
 ain't a man, woman, or child that will be kept away. 
 Don't you go back on your luck, now; it's something 
 awful and nigger-like. You 've got this crowd where the 
 hair is short; excuse me, but it's so. Talk of revivals! 
 You could give that one-horse show in Tasajara a hundred 
 points, and skunk them easily." Indeed had Gideon been 
 accessible to vanity, the spontaneous homage he met with 
 everywhere would have touched him more sympathetically 
 and kindly than it did; but in the utter unconsciousness 
 of his own power and the quality they worshiped in him, 
 he felt alarmed and impatient of what he believed to be 
 their weak sympathy with his own human weakness. In 
 the depth of his unselfish heart, lit, it must be confessed, 
 only by the scant, inefficient lamp of his youthful experi- 
 ence, he really believed he had failed in his apostolic mis- 
 sion because he had been unable to touch the hearts of the 
 Vigilantes by oral appeal and argument. Feeling thus, 
 the reverence of these irreligious people that surrounded 
 him, the facile yielding of their habits and prejudices to 
 his half- uttered wish, appeared to him only a temptation of 
 the flesh. No one had sought him after the manner of the 
 camp-meeting ; he had converted the wounded man through 
 a common weakness of their humanity. More than that, 
 he was conscious of a growing fascination for the truthful- 
 ness and sincerity of that class; particularly of Mr. Jack 
 Hamlin, whose conversion he felt he could never attempt, 
 yet whose strange friendship alternately thrilled and 
 frightened him. 
 
 It was the evening before the funeral. The coffin, half 
 smothered in wreaths and flowers, stood upon trestles in
 
 330 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 the anteroom, a large silver plate bearing an inscription on 
 which for the second time Gideon read the name of the 
 man he had converted. It was a name associated on the 
 frontier so often with reckless hardihood, dissipation, and 
 blood, that even now Gideon trembled at his presumption, 
 and was chilled by a momentary doubt of the efficiency of 
 his labor. Drawing unconsciously nearer to the mute sub- 
 ject of his thoughts, he threw his arms across the coffin and 
 buried his face between them. 
 
 A stream of soft music, the echo of some forgotten song, 
 seemed to Gideon to suddenly fill and possess the darkened 
 room, and then to slowly die away like the opening and 
 shutting of a door upon a flood of golden radiance. He 
 listened with hushed breath and a beating heart. He had 
 never heard anything like it before. Again the strain 
 arose, the chords swelled round him, until from their midst 
 a tenor voice broke high and steadfast, like a star in 
 troubled skies. Gideon scarcely breathed. It was a hymn 
 but such a hymn. He had never conceived there could 
 be such beautiful words, joined to such exquisite melody, 
 and sung with a grace so tender and true. What were all 
 other hymns to this ineffable yearning for light, for love, 
 and for infinite rest? Thrilled and exalted, Gideon felt 
 his doubts pierced and scattered by that illuminating cry. 
 Suddenly he rose, and with a troubled thought pushed 
 open the door to the sitting-room. It was Mr. Jack Ham- 
 lin sitting before a parlor organ. The music ceased. 
 
 "It was you," stammered Gideon. 
 
 Jack nodded, struck a few chords by way of finish, and 
 then wheeled round on the music-stool towards Gideon. 
 His face was slightly flushed. " Yes. I used to be the 
 organist and tenor in our church in the States. I used to 
 snatch the sinners bald-headed with that. Do you know 
 I reckon I '11 sing that to-morrow, if you like, and maybe 
 afterwards we '11 but " he stopped "we '11 talk of
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 331 
 
 that after the funeral. It 's business." Seeing Gideon still 
 glancing with a troubled air from the organ to himself, he 
 said : " Would you like to try that hymn with me ? Come 
 on!" . 
 
 He again struck the chords. As the whole room seemed 
 to throb with the music, Gideon felt himself again carried 
 away. Glancing over Jack's shoulders, he could read the 
 words but not the notes; yet, having a quick ear for 
 rhythm, he presently joined in with a deep but uncultivated 
 baritone. Together they forgot everything else, and at the 
 end of an hour were only recalled by the presence of a 
 silently admiring concourse of votive-offering friends who 
 had gathered round them. 
 
 The funeral took place the next day at the grave dug in 
 the public cemetery a green area fenced in by the pali- 
 sading tules. The words of Gideon were brief but humble ; 
 the strongest partisan of the dead man could find no fault 
 in a confession of human frailty in which the speaker 
 humbly confessed his share; and when the hymn was 
 started by Hamlin and taken up by Gideon, the vast mul- 
 titude, drawn by interest and curiosity, joined as in a sol- 
 emn Amen. 
 
 Later, when those two strangely assorted friends had re- 
 turned to Mr. Hamlin's rooms previous to Gideon's de- 
 parture, the former, in a manner more serious than his 
 habitual cynical good humor, began: "I said I had to talk 
 business with you. The boys about here want to build a 
 church for you, and are ready to plank the money down 
 if you '11 say it 's a go. You understand they are n't ask- 
 ing you to run in opposition to that Gospel sharp excuse 
 me that 's here now, nor do they want you to run a side 
 show in connection with it. They want you to be inde- 
 pendent. They don't pin you down to any kind of re- 
 ligion, you know ; whatever you care to give them 
 Methodist, Roman Catholic, Presbyterian is mighty
 
 332 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 good enough for them, if you '11 expound it. You might 
 give a little of each, or one on one day and one another 
 they '11 never know the difference if you only mix the 
 drinks yourself. They '11 give you a house and guarantee 
 you fifteen hundred dollars the first year." 
 
 He stopped and walked towards the window. The sun- 
 light that fell upon his handsome face seemed to call back 
 the careless smile to his lips and the reckless fire to his 
 brown eyes. "I don't suppose there 's a man among them 
 that would n't tell you all this in a great deal better way 
 than I do. But the darned fools excuse me would 
 have me break it to you. Why, I don't know. I needn't 
 tell you I like you not only for what you did for 
 George but I like you for your style for yourself. 
 And I want you to accept. You could keep these rooms 
 till they got a house ready for you. Together you and 
 me we 'd make that organ howl. But because I like it 
 
 because it 's everything to us and nothing to you, it 
 don't seem square for me to ask it. Does it? " 
 
 Gideon replied by taking Hamlin's hand. His face 
 was perfectly pale, but his look collected. He had not 
 expected this offer, and yet when it was made he felt as 
 if he had known it before as if he had been warned of it 
 
 as if it was the great temptation of his life. Watching 
 him with an earnestness only slightly overlaid by his 
 usual manner, Hamlin went on : 
 
 "I know it would be lonely here, and a man like you 
 ought to have a wife for " he slightly lifted his eyebrows 
 
 "for example's sake. I heard there was a young lady 
 in the case over there in Tasajara but the old people 
 didn't see it on account of your position. They 'd jump 
 at it now. Eh? No? Well," continued Jack, with 
 a decent attempt to conceal his cynical relief, "perhaps 
 those boys have been so eager to find out all they could do 
 for you that they 've been sold. Perhaps we 're making
 
 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 333 
 
 equal fools of ourselves now in asking you to stay. But 
 don't say no just yet take a day or a week to think of 
 it." 
 
 Gideon still pale but calm, cast his eyes around the ele- 
 gant room, at the magic organ, then upon the slight hand- 
 some figure before him. "I will think of it," he said in 
 a low voice, as he pressed Jack's hand. "And if I accept 
 you will find me here to-morrow afternoon at this time; 
 if I do not you will know that I keep with me wherever I 
 go the kindness, the brotherly love, and the grace of God 
 that prompts your offer, even though He withholds from 
 me His blessed light, which alone can make me know His 
 wish." He stopped and hesitated. "If you love me, 
 Jack, don't ask me to stay, but pray for that light which 
 alone can guide my feet back to you, or take me hence for- 
 ever." He once more tightly pressed the hand of the 
 embarrassed man before him and was gone. 
 
 Passers-by on the Martinez road that night remembered 
 a mute and ghostly rider who, heedless of hail or greeting, 
 moved by them as in a trance or vision. But the Widow 
 Hiler the next morning, coming from the spring, found 
 no abstraction or preoccupation in the soft eyes of Gideon 
 Deane as he suddenly appeared before her, and gently re- 
 lieved her of the bucket she was carrying. A quick flush 
 of color over her brow and cheek-bones, as if a hot iron had 
 passed there, and a certain astringent coyness, would have 
 embarrassed any other man than him. 
 
 "Sho, it 's you. I reck'ned I 'd seen the last of you." 
 
 "You don't mean that, Sister Hiler?" said Gideon, 
 with a gentle smile. 
 
 "Well, what with the report of your goin's on at Marti- 
 nez and improvin' the occasion of that sinner's death, and 
 leadin' a revival, I reckoned you 'd hev forgotten low folks 
 at Tasajara. And if your goin' to be settled there in a 
 new church, with new hearers, I reckon you '11 want new
 
 334 AN APOSTLE OF THE TULES 
 
 surroundings too. Things change and young folks change 
 with 'em." 
 
 They had reached the house. Her breath was quick 
 and short as if she and not Gideon had borne the burden. 
 He placed the bucket in its accustomed place and then 
 gently took her hand in his. The act precipitated the last 
 drop of feeble coquetry she had retained, and the old tears 
 took its place. Let us hope for the last time. For as 
 Gideon stooped and lifted her ailing babe in his strong 
 arms, he said softly, "Whatever God has wrought for me 
 since we parted, I know now He has called me to but one 
 work." 
 
 " And that work ? " she asked tremulously. 
 
 "To watch over the widow and fatherless. And with 
 God's blessing, sister, and His holy ordinance, I am here 
 to stay."
 
 DEVIL'S FOKD 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IT was a season of unequaled prosperity in Devil's 
 Ford. The half a dozen cabins scattered along the banks 
 of the North Pork, as if by some overflow of that capricious 
 river, had become augmented during a week of fierce ex- 
 citement by twenty or thirty others, that were huddled to- 
 gether on the narrow gorge of Devil's Spur, or cast up on 
 its steep sides. So sudden and violent had been the 
 change of fortune, that the dwellers in the older cabins had 
 not had time to change with it, but still kept their old 
 habits, customs, and even their old clothes. The flour- 
 pan in which their daily bread was mixed stood on the rude 
 table side by side with the "prospecting pans," half full 
 of gold washed up from their morning's work; the front 
 windows of the newer tenements looked upon the one 
 single thoroughfare, but the back door opened upon the un- 
 cleared wilderness, still haunted by the misshapen bulk of 
 bear or the nightly gliding of catamount. 
 
 Neither had success as yet affected their boyish simpli- 
 city and the frankness of old frontier habits; they played 
 with their new-found riches with the na'ive delight of chil- 
 dren, and rehearsed their glowing future with the impor- 
 tance and triviality of schoolboys. 
 
 "I've bin kalklatin'," said Dick Mattingly, leaning on 
 his long- handled shovel with lazy gravity, "that when I 
 go to Rome this winter, I '11 get one o' them marble sharps 
 to chisel me a statoo o' some kind to set up on the spot 
 where we made our big strike. Suthin' to remember it by, 
 rou know."
 
 336 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 "What kind o' statoo Washington or Webster?" 
 asked one of the Kearney brothers, without looking up 
 from his work. 
 
 "No I reckon one o' them fancy groups one o' 
 them Latin goddesses that Fairfax is always gassin' about, 
 sorter leadin', directin', and bossin' us where to dig." 
 
 "You'd make a healthy-lookin' figger in a group," re- 
 sponded Kearney, critically regarding an enormous patch 
 in Mattingly's trousers. "Why don't you have a fountain 
 instead ? " 
 
 "Where '11 you get the water?" demanded the first 
 speaker, in return. "You know there ain't enough in the 
 North Fork to do a week's washing for the camp to say 
 nothin' of its color." 
 
 "Leave that to me," said Kearney, with self-possession. 
 "When I've built that there reservoir on Devil's Spur, 
 and bring the water over the ridge from Union Ditch, 
 there '11 be enough to spare for that." 
 
 " Better mix it up, I reckon have suthin' half statoo, 
 half fountain," interposed the elder Mattingly, better 
 known as "Maryland Joe," "and set it up afore the Town 
 Hall and Free Library I 'm kalklatin' to give. Do that, 
 and you can count on me." 
 
 After some further discussion, it was gravely settled 
 that Kearney should furnish water brought from the 
 Union Ditch twenty miles away, at a cost of two hundred 
 thousand dollars, to feed a memorial fountain erected by 
 Mattingly, worth a hundred thousand dollars, as a crown- 
 ing finish to public buildings contributed by Maryland Joe, 
 to the extent of half a million more. The disposition of 
 these vast sums by gentlemen wearing patched breeches 
 awakened no sense of the ludicrous, nor did any doubt, re- 
 servation, or contingency enter into the plans of the charm- 
 ing enthusiasts themselves. The foundation of their airy 
 castles lay already before them in the strip of rich alluvium
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 337 
 
 on the river bank, where the North Fork, sharply curving 
 round the base of Devil's Spur, had for centuries swept 
 the detritus of gulch and cafion. They had barely crossed 
 the threshold of this treasure-house, to find themselves rich 
 men; what possibilities of affluence might be theirs when 
 they had fully exploited their possessions! So confident 
 were they of that ultimate prospect, that the wealth already 
 thus obtained was religiously expended in engines and 
 machinery for the boring of wells and the conveyance of 
 that precious water which the exhausted river had long 
 since ceased to yield. It seemed as if the gold they had 
 taken out was by some ironical compensation gradually 
 making its way back to the soil again through ditch and 
 flume and reservoir. 
 
 Such was the position of affairs at Devil's Ford on the 
 13th of August, 1860. It was noon of a hot day. What- 
 ever movement there was in the stifling air was seen rather 
 than felt in a tremulous, quivering, upward-moving dust 
 along the flank of the mountain, through which the spires 
 of the pines were faintly visible. There was no water in 
 the bared and burning bars of the river to reflect the verti- 
 cal sun, but under its direct rays one or two tinned roofs 
 and corrugated zinc cabins struck fire, a few canvas tents 
 became dazzling to the eye, and the white wooded corral 
 of the stage office and hotel insupportable. For two hours 
 no one ventured in the glare of the open, or even to cross 
 the narrow, unshadowed street, whose dull red dust seemed 
 to glow between the lines of straggling houses. The heated 
 shells of these green unseasoned tenements gave out a pun- 
 gent odor of scorching wood and resin. The usual hurried, 
 feverish toil in the claim was suspended; the pick and 
 shovel were left sticking in the richest " pay gravel ; " the 
 toiling millionaires themselves, ragged, dirty, and perspir- 
 ing, lay panting under the nearest shade, where their pipes 
 went out listlessly, and conversation sank to monosyllables.
 
 338 DEVIL'S FOED 
 
 "There 's Fairfax," said Dick Mattingly, at last, with a 
 lazy effort. His face was turned to the hillside, where a 
 man had just emerged from the woods, and was halting 
 irresolutely before the glaring expanse of upheaved gravel 
 and glistening boulders that stretched between him and the 
 shaded group. "He's going to make a break for it," he 
 added, as the stranger, throwing his linen coat over his 
 head, suddenly started into an Indian trot through the 
 pelting sunbeams toward them. This strange act was per- 
 fectly understood by the group, who knew that in that in- 
 tensely dry heat the danger of exposure was lessened by 
 active exercise and the profuse perspiration that followed 
 it. In another moment the stranger had reached their side, 
 dripping as if rained upon, mopping his damp curls and 
 handsome bearded face with his linen coat, as he threw 
 himself pantingly on the ground. 
 
 "I struck out over here first, boys, to give you a little 
 warning," he said, as soon as he had gained breath. 
 " That engineer will be down here to take charge as soon as 
 the six o'clock stage comes in. He 's an oldish chap, has 
 got a family of two daughters, and I am d d if 
 he is not bringing them down here with him." 
 
 "Oh, go 'long!" exclaimed the five men in one voice, 
 raising themselves on their hands and elbows, and glaring 
 at the speaker. 
 
 " Fact, boys ! Soon as I found it out I just waltzed into 
 that Jew shop at the Crossing and bought up all the 
 clothes that would be likely to suit you fellows, before any- 
 body else got a show. I reckon I cleared out the shop. 
 The duds are a little mixed in style, but I reckon they 're 
 clean and whole, and a man might face a lady in 'em. I 
 left them round at the old Buckeye Spring, where they 're 
 handy without attracting attention. You boys can go 
 there for a general wash-up, rig yourselves up without say- 
 ing anything, and then meander back careless and easy
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 339 
 
 in your store clothes, just as the stage is coming in, 
 sabe ? 
 
 " Why did n't you let us know earlier 1 " asked Mat- 
 tingly aggrievedly; "you've been back here at least an 
 hour." 
 
 "I've been getting some place ready for them," re- 
 turned the newcomer. "We might have managed to put 
 the man somewhere, if he 'd been alone, but these women 
 want family accommodation. There was nothing left for 
 me to do but to buy up Thompson's saloon." 
 
 " No ? " interrupted his audience, half in incredulity, 
 half in protestation. 
 
 "Fact! You boys will have to take your drinks under 
 canvas again, I reckon ! But I made Thompson let those 
 gold-framed mirrors that used to stand behind the bar go 
 into the bargain, and they sort of furnish the room. You 
 know the saloon is one of them patent houses you can take 
 to pieces, and I 've been reckoning you boys will have to 
 pitch in and help me to take the whole shanty over to the 
 laurel bushes, and put it up agin Kearney's cabin." 
 
 "What 's all that? " said the younger Kearney, with an 
 odd mingling of astonishment and bashful gratification. 
 
 " Yes, I reckon yours is the cleanest house, because it 's 
 the newest, so you '11 just step out and let us knock in one 
 o' the gables, and clap it on to the saloon, and make one 
 house of it, don't you see ? There '11 be two rooms, one 
 for the girls and the other for the old man." 
 
 The astonishment and bewilderment of the party had 
 gradually given way to a boyish and impatient interest. 
 
 "Had n't we better do the job at once ? " suggested Dick 
 Mattingly. 
 
 "Or throw ourselves into those new clothes, so as to be 
 ready," added the younger Kearney, looking down at his 
 ragged trousers. "I say, Fairfax, what are the girls like, 
 eh?"
 
 340 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 All the others had been dying to ask the question, yet 
 one and all laughed at the conscious manner and blushing 
 cheek of the questioner. 
 
 "You'll find out quick enough," returned Fairfax, 
 whose curt carelessness did not, however, prevent a slight 
 increase of color on his own cheek. "We 'd better get that 
 job off our hands before doing anything else. So, if you 're 
 ready, boys, we '11 just waltz down to Thompson's and 
 pack up the shanty. He 's out of it by this time, I 
 reckon. You might as well be perspiring to some purpose 
 over there as gaspin' under this tree. We won't go back 
 to work this afternoon, but knock off now, and call it half 
 a day. Come! Hump yourselves, gentlemen. Are you 
 ready 1 One, two, three, and away ! " 
 
 In another instant the tree was deserted; the figures of 
 the five millionaires of Devil's Ford, crossing the fierce 
 glare of the open space, with boyish alacrity, glistened in 
 the sunlight, and then disappeared in the nearest fringe of 
 thickets.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Six hours later, when the shadow of Devil's Spur had 
 crossed the river, and spread a slight coolness over the flat 
 beyond, the Pioneer coach, leaving the summit, began also 
 to bathe its heated bulk in the long shadows of the descent. 
 Conspicuous among the dusty passengers, the two pretty 
 and youthful faces of the daughters of Philip Carr, mining 
 superintendent and engineer, looked from the windows with 
 no little anxiety towards their future home in the strag- 
 gling settlement below, that occasionally came in view at 
 the turns of the long zigzagging road. A slight look of 
 comical disappointment passed between them as they gazed 
 upon the sterile flat, dotted with unsightly excrescences 
 that stood equally for cabins or mounds of stone and gravel. 
 It was so feeble and inconsistent a culmination to the 
 beautiful scenery they had passed through, so hopeless and 
 imbecile a conclusion to the preparation of that long pic- 
 turesque journey, with its glimpses of sylvan and pastoral 
 glades and canons, that, as the coach swept down the last 
 incline, and the remorseless monotony of the dead level 
 spread out before them, furrowed by ditches and indented by 
 pits, under cover of shielding their cheeks from the impal- 
 pable dust that rose beneath the plunging wheels, they buried 
 their faces in their handkerchiefs, to hide a few half-hys- 
 terical tears. Happily, their father, completely absorbed 
 in a practical, scientific, and approving contemplation of 
 the topography and material resources of the scene of his 
 future labors, had no time to notice their defection. It 
 was not until the stage drew up before a rambling tene-
 
 342 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 ment bearing the inscription, "Hotel and Stage Office," that 
 he became fully aware of it. 
 
 "We can't stop here, papa," said Christie Carr decid- 
 edly, with a shake of her pretty head. " You can't expect 
 that." 
 
 Mr. Carr looked up at the building; it was half grocery, 
 half saloon. Whatever other accommodation it contained 
 must have been hidden in the rear, as the flat roof above 
 was almost level with the raftered ceiling of the shop. 
 . "Certainly," he replied hurriedly; "we '11 see to that in 
 a moment. I dare say it 's all right. I told Fairfax we 
 were coming. Somebody ought to be here." 
 
 "But they 're not," said Jessie Carr indignantly; "and 
 the few that were here scampered off like rabbits to their 
 burrows as soon as they saw us get down." 
 
 It was true. The little group of Joungers before the 
 building had suddenly disappeared. There was the flash 
 of a red shirt vanishing in an adjacent doorway; the fading 
 apparition of a pair of high boots and blue overalls in an- 
 other; the abrupt withdrawal of a curly blonde head from 
 a sashless window over the way. Even the saloon was de- 
 serted, although a back door in the dim recess seemed to 
 creak mysteriously. The stage-coach, with the other pas- 
 sengers, had already rattled away. 
 
 " I certainly think Fairfax understood that I " began 
 Mr. Carr. 
 
 He was interrupted by the pressure of Christie's fingers 
 on his arm and a subdued exclamation from Jessie, who 
 was staring down the street. 
 
 "What are they?" she whispered in her sister's ear. 
 " Nigger minstrels, a circus, or what ? " 
 
 The five millionaires of Devil's Ford had just turned the 
 corner of the straggling street, and were approaching in 
 single file. One glance was sufficient to show that they 
 had already availed themselves of the new clothing bought
 
 DEVIL'S FOED 343 
 
 by Fairfax, had washed, and one or two had shaved. But 
 the result was startling. 
 
 Through some fortunate coincidence in size, Dick Mat- 
 tingly was the only one who had achieved an entire suit. 
 But it was of funereal black cloth, and although relieved 
 at one extremity by a pair of high riding-boots, in which 
 his too short trousers were tucked, and at the other by a 
 tall white hat, and cravat of aggressive yellow, the effect 
 was depressing. In agreeable contrast, his brother, Mary- 
 land Joe, was attired in a thin fawn-colored summer over- 
 coat, lightly worn open, so as to show the unstarched bosom 
 of a white embroidered shirt, and a pair of nankeen trou- 
 sers and pumps. The Kearney brothers had divided a suit 
 between them, the elder wearing a tightly fitting, single- 
 breasted blue frock coat and a pair of pink striped cotton 
 trousers, while the younger candidly displayed the trousers 
 of his brother's suit, as a harmonious change to a shining 
 black alpaca coat and crimson neckerchief. Fairfax, who 
 brought up the rear, had, with characteristic unselfishness, 
 contented himself with a French workman's blue blouse 
 and a pair of white duck trousers. Had they shown the 
 least consciousness of their finery, or of its absurdity, they 
 would have seemed despicable. But only one expression 
 beamed on the five sunburnt and shining faces a look of 
 unaffected boyish gratification and unrestricted welcome. 
 
 They halted before Mr. Carr and his daughters, simul- 
 taneously removed their various and remarkable head cov- 
 erings, and waited until Fairfax advanced and severally 
 presented them. Jessie Carr's half-frightened smile took 
 refuge in the trembling shadows of her dark lashes; Chris- 
 tie Carr stiffened slightly, and looked straight before her. 
 
 " We reckoned that is we intended to meet you and 
 the young ladies at the grade," said Fairfax, reddening a 
 little as he endeavored to conceal his too ready slang, "and 
 save you from trapesing from dragging yourselves up 
 grade again to your house."
 
 344 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 " Then there is a house ? " said Jessie, with an alarmingly 
 frank laugh of relief, that was, however, as frankly re- 
 flected in the boyishly appreciative eyes of the young men. 
 
 "Such as it is," responded Fairfax, with a shade of 
 anxiety, as he glanced at the fresh and pretty costumes of 
 the young women, and dubiously regarded the two Saratoga 
 trunks resting hopelessly on the veranda. "I 'm afraid it 
 isn't much, for what you're accustomed to. But," he 
 added more cheerfully, "it will do for a day or two, and 
 perhaps you '11 give us the pleasure of showing you the way 
 there now." 
 
 The procession was quickly formed. Mr. Carr, alive 
 only to the actual business that had brought him there, at 
 once took possession of Fairfax, and began to disclose his 
 plans for the working of the mine, occasionally halting to 
 look at the work already done in the ditches, and to ex- 
 amine the field of his future operations. Fairfax, not dis- 
 pleased at being thus relieved of a lighter attendance on 
 Mr. Carr's daughters, nevertheless from time to time cast 
 a paternal glance backwards upon their escorts, who had 
 each seized a handle of the two trunks, and were carrying 
 them in couples at the young ladies' side. The occupation 
 did not offer much freedom for easy gallantry, but no sign 
 of discomfiture or uneasiness was visible in the grateful 
 faces of the young men. The necessity of changing hands 
 at times with their burdens brought a corresponding 
 change of cavalier at the lady's side, although it was ob- 
 served that the younger Kearney, for the sake of continu- 
 ing a conversation with Miss Jessie, kept his grasp of the 
 handle nearest the young lady until his hand was nearly cut 
 through, and his arm worn out by exhaustion. 
 
 "The only thing on wheels in the camp is a mule wagon, 
 and the mules are packin' gravel from the river this after- 
 noon," explained Dick Mattingly apologetically to Christie, 
 "or we'd have toted I mean carried you and your
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 345 
 
 up to the shant the your house. Give us two 
 weeks more, Miss Carr only two weeks to wash up our 
 work and realize and we '11 give you a pair of 2.40 step- 
 pers and a skeleton buggy to meet you at the top of the 
 hill and drive you over to the cabin. Perhaps you 'd pre- 
 fer a regular carriage; some ladies do. And a nigger 
 driver. But what 's the use of planning anything? Afore 
 that time comes we '11 have run you up a house on the hill, 
 and you shall pick out the spot. It would n't take long 
 unless you preferred brick. I suppose we could get 
 brick over from La Grange, if you cared for it, but it would 
 take longer. If you could put up for a time with some- 
 thing of stained glass and a mahogany veranda " 
 
 In spite of her cold indignation, and the fact that she 
 could understand only a part of Mattingly's speech, Chris- 
 tie comprehended enough to make her lift her clear eyes to 
 the speaker, as she replied freezingly that she feared she 
 would not trouble them long with her company. 
 
 "Oh, you'll get over that," responded Mattingly, with 
 an exasperating confidence that drove her nearly frantic, 
 from the manifest kindliness of intent that made it impos- 
 sible for her to resent it. "I felt that way myself at first. 
 Things will look strange and unsociable for a while, until 
 you get the hang of them. You '11 naturally stamp round 
 and cuss a little " he stopped in conscious consternation. 
 
 With ready tact, and before Christie could reply, Mary- 
 land Joe had put down the trunk and changed hands with 
 his brother. 
 
 "You mustn't mind Dick, or he '11 go off and kill him- 
 self with shame," he whispered laughingly in her ear. 
 "He means all right, but he's picked up so much slang 
 here he 's about forgotten how to talk English, and it 'a 
 nigh on to four years since he 's met a young lady." 
 
 Christie did not reply. Yet the laughter of her sister in 
 advance with the Kearney brothers seemed to make the
 
 346 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 reserve with which she tried to crush further familiarity 
 only ridiculous. 
 
 "Do you know many operas, Miss Carr? " 
 
 She looked at the boyish, interested, sunburnt face so 
 near to her own, and hesitated. After all, why should she 
 add to her other real disappointments by taking this absurd 
 creature seriously? 
 
 "In what way ? " she returned, with a half smile. 
 
 "To play. On the piano, of course. There isn't one 
 nearer here than Sacramento; but I reckon we could get a 
 small one by Thursday. You could n't do anything on a 
 banjo?" he added doubtfully; "Kearney 's got one." 
 
 "I imagine it would be very difficult to carry a piano 
 over those mountains," said Christie laughingly, to avoid 
 the collateral of the banjo. 
 
 "We got a billiard- table over from Stockton," half bash- 
 fully interrupted Dick Mattingly, struggling from his end 
 of the trunk to recover his composure, "and it had to be 
 brought over in sections on the back of a mule, so I don't 
 see why " He stopped short again in confusion, at a 
 sign from his brother, and then added, "I mean, of course, 
 that a piano is a heap more delicate, and valuable, and all 
 that sort of thing, but it 's worth trying for." 
 
 "Fairfax was always saying he 'd get one for himself, so 
 I reckon it 's possible," said Joe. 
 
 "Does he play? " asked Christie. 
 
 "You bet," said Joe, quite forgetting himself in his en- 
 thusiasm. "He can snatch Mozart and Beethoven bald- 
 headed." 
 
 In the embarrassing silence that followed this speech the 
 fringe of pine wood nearest the flat was reached. Here 
 there was a rude " clearing, " and beneath an enormous pine 
 stood the two recently joined tenements. There was no 
 attempt to conceal the point of junction between Kearney's 
 cabin and the newly transported saloon from the flat no
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 347 
 
 architectural illusion of the palpable collusion of the two 
 buildings, which seemed to be telescoped into each other. 
 The front room or living-room occupied the whole of 
 Kearney's cabin. It contained, in addition to the neces- 
 sary articles for housekeeping, a " bunk " or berth for Mr. 
 Carr, so as to leave the second building entirely to the 
 occupation of his daughters as bedroom and boudoir. 
 
 There was a half-humorous, half-apologetic exhibition of 
 the rude utensils of the living-room, and then the young 
 men turned away as the two girls entered the open door 
 of the second room. Neither Christie nor Jessie could 
 for a moment understand the delicacy which kept these 
 young men from accompanying them into the room they had 
 but a few moments before decorated and arranged with their 
 own hands, and it was not until they turned to thank their 
 strange entertainers that they found that they were gone. 
 
 The arrangement of the second room was rude and 
 bizarre, but not without a singular originality and even 
 tastefulness of conception. What had been the counter or 
 " bar " of the saloon, gorgeous in white and gold, now sawn 
 in two and divided, was set up on opposite sides of the 
 room as separate dressing-tables, decorated with huge 
 bunches of azaleas, that hid the rough earthenware bowls, 
 and gave each table the appearance of a vestal altar. 
 
 The huge gilt plate-glass mirror which had hung behind 
 the bar still occupied one side of the room, but its length 
 was artfully divided by an enormous rosette of red, white, 
 and blue muslin one of the surviving Fourth of July 
 decorations of Thompson's saloon. On either side of the 
 door two pathetic-looking, convent-like cots, covered with 
 spotless sheeting, and heaped up in the middle, like a snow- 
 covered grave, had attracted their attention. They were still 
 staring at them when Mr. Carr anticipated their curiosity. 
 
 "I ought to tell you that the young men confided to me 
 the fact that there was neither bed nor mattress to be had
 
 348 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 on the Ford. They have filled some flour-sacks with clean 
 dry moss from the woods, and put half a dozen blankets 
 on the top, and they hope you can get along until the 
 messenger who starts to-night for La Grange can bring 
 some bedding over." 
 
 Jessie flew with mischievous delight to satisfy herself of 
 the truth of this marvel. "It's so, Christie," she said 
 laughingly "three flour-sacks apiece; but I 'm jealous: 
 yours are all marked ' superfine, ' and mine ' middlings. ' " 
 
 Mr. Carr had remained uneasily watching Christie's 
 shadowed face. 
 
 "What matters?" she said dryly. "The accommoda- 
 tion is all in keeping." 
 
 "It will be better in a day or two," he continued, cast- 
 ing a longing look towards the door the first refuge of 
 masculine weakness in an impending domestic emergency. 
 "I '11 go and see what can be done," he said feebly, with 
 a sidelong impulse towards the opening and freedom. 
 "I 've got to see Fairfax again to-night anyway." 
 
 "One moment, father," said Christie wearily. "Did 
 you know anything of this place and these these people 
 before you came ? " 
 
 "Certainly of course I did," he returned, with the 
 sudden testiness of disturbed abstraction. "What are you 
 thinking of ? I knew the geological strata and the the 
 report of Fairfax and his partners before I consented to 
 take charge of the works. And I can tell you that there 
 is a fortune here. I intend to make my own terms, and 
 share in it." 
 
 "And not take a salary or some sum of money down? " 
 said Christie, slowly removing her bonnet in the same 
 resigned way. 
 
 "I am not a hired man, or a workman, Christie," said 
 her father sharply. "You ought not to oblige me to 
 remind you of that."
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 349 
 
 " But the hired men the superintendent and his work- 
 men were the only ones who ever got anything out of 
 your last experiment with Colonel Waters at La Grange, 
 and and we at least lived among civilized people there. " 
 
 "These young men are not common people, Christie; 
 even if they have forgotten the restraints of speech and 
 manners, they 're gentlemen." 
 
 "Who are willing to live like like negroes." 
 
 "You can make them what you please." 
 
 Christie raised her eyes. There was a certain cynical 
 ring in her father's voice that was unlike his usual hesitat- 
 ing abstraction. It both puzzled and pained her. 
 
 "I mean," he said hastily, "that you have the same 
 opportunity to direct the lives of these young men into 
 more regular, disciplined channels that I have to regulate 
 and correct their foolish waste of industry and material 
 here. It would at least beguile the time for you." 
 
 Fortunately for Mr. Carr's escape and Christie's uneasi- 
 ness, Jessie, who had been examining the details of the 
 living-room, broke in upon this conversation. 
 
 "I'm sure it will be as good as a perpetual picnic. 
 George Kearney says we can have a cooking-stove under 
 the tree outside at the back, and as there will be no rain 
 for three months we can do the cooking there, and that 
 will give us more room for for the piano when it comes ; 
 and there 's an old squaw to do the cleaning and washing- 
 up any day and and it will be real fun." 
 
 She stopped breathlessly, with glowing cheeks and 
 sparkling eyes a charming picture of youth and trustful- 
 ness. Mr. Carr had seized the opportunity to escape. 
 
 "Eeally, now, Christie," said Jessie confidentially, 
 when they were alone, and Christie had begun to unpack 
 her trunk, and to mechanically put her things away, 
 " they 're not so bad. " 
 
 "Who?" asked Christie.
 
 350 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 "Why, the Kearneys, and Mattinglys, and Fairfax, and 
 the lot, provided you don't look at their clothes. And 
 think of it ! they told me for they tell one everything in 
 the most alarming way that those clothes were bought to 
 please us. A scramble of things bought at La Grange, 
 without reference to size or style. And to hear these 
 creatures talk, why, you 'd think they were Astors or 
 Eothschilds. Think of that little one with the curls I 
 don't believe he 's over seventeen, for all his baby mus- 
 tache says he 's going to build an assembly hall for us to 
 give a dance in next month; and apologizes the next 
 breath to tell us that there isn't any milk to be had 
 nearer than La Grange, and we must do without it, and 
 use syrup in our tea to-morrow." 
 
 " And where is all this wealth 1 " said Christie, forcing 
 herself to smile at her sister !s animation. 
 
 " Under our very feet, my child, and all along the river. 
 Why, what we thought was pure and simple mud is what 
 they call ' gold-bearing cement. ' " 
 
 "I suppose that is why they don't brush their boots and 
 trousers, it's so precious," returned Christie dryly. "And 
 have they ever translated this precious dirt into actual 
 coin?" 
 
 "Bless you, yes. Why, that dirty little gutter, you 
 know, that ran along the side of the road and followed us 
 down the hill all the way here, that cost them let me 
 see yes, nearly sixty thousand dollars. And fancy! 
 papa's just condemned it says it won't do; and they 've 
 got to build another." 
 
 An impatient sigh from Christie drew Jessie's attention 
 to her troubled eyebrows. 
 
 "Don't worry about our disappointment, dear. It isn't 
 so very great. I dare say we '11 be able to get along here 
 in some way, until papa is rich again. You know they 
 intend to make him share with them."
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 351 
 
 "It strikes me that he is sharing with them already," 
 said Christie, glancing bitterly round the cabin; "sharing 
 everything ourselves, our lives, our tastes." 
 
 " Ye-e-s ! " said Jessie, with vaguely hesitating assent. 
 " Yes, even these : " she showed two dice in the palm of 
 her little hand. "I found 'em in the drawer of our dress- 
 ing-table." 
 
 "Throw them away," said Christie impatiently. 
 
 But Jessie's small fingers closed over the dice. "I'll 
 give them to the little Kearney. I dare say they were the 
 poor boy's playthings." 
 
 The appearance of these relics of wild dissipation, how- 
 ever, had lifted Christie out of her sublime resignation. 
 "For Heaven's sake, Jessie," she said, "look around and 
 see if there is anything more ! " 
 
 To make sure, they each began to scrimmage; the 
 broken-spirited Christie exhibiting both alacrity and pene- 
 tration in searching obscure corners. In the dining- 
 room, behind the dresser, three or four books were discov- 
 ered: an odd volume of Thackeray, another of Dickens, a 
 memorandum-book or diary. "This seems to be Latin," 
 said Jessie, fishing out a smaller book. "I can't read it." 
 
 "It 's just as well you should n't," said'Christie shortly, 
 whose ideas of a general classical impropriety had been 
 gathered from the pages of Lempriere's dictionary. "Put 
 it back directly." 
 
 Jessie returned certain odes of one Horatius Flaccus to 
 the corner, and uttered an exclamation. " Oh, Christie ! 
 here are some letters tied up with a ribbon." 
 
 They were two or three prettily written letters, exhaling 
 a faint odor of refinement and of the pressed flowers that 
 peeped from between the loose leaves. " I see, ' My dar- 
 ling Fairfax.' It 's from some woman." 
 
 "I don't think much of her, whosoever she is," said 
 Christie, tossing the intact packet back into the corner.
 
 352 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 "Nor I," echoed Jessie. 
 
 Nevertheless, by some feminine inconsistency, evidently 
 the circumstance did make them think more of him, for 
 a minute later, when they had reentered their own room, 
 Christie remarked, "The idea of petting a man by his 
 family name ! Think of mamma ever having called papa 
 ' darling Carr ' ! " 
 
 "Oh, but his family name isn't Fairfax," said Jessie 
 hastily; "that's his first name, his Christian name. I 
 forget what 's his other name, but nobody ever calls him 
 by it." 
 
 "Do you mean," said Christie, with glistening eyes and 
 awful deliberation "do you mean to say that we're 
 expected to fall in with this insufferable familiarity ? I 
 suppose they '11 be calling us by our Christian names 
 next." 
 
 "Oh, but they do!" said Jessie mischievously. 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " They call me Miss Jessie ; and Kearney, the little one, 
 asked me if Christie played." 
 
 "And what did you say? " 
 
 "I said that you did," answered Jessie, with an affecta- 
 tion of cherubic simplicity. "You do, dear; don't you? 
 . . . There, don't get angry, darling; I couldn't flare up 
 all of a sudden in the face of that poor little creature; he 
 looked so absurd and so so honest." 
 
 Christie turned away, relapsing into her old resigned 
 manner, and assuming her household duties in a quiet, 
 temporizing way that was, however, without hope or ex- 
 pectation. 
 
 Mr. Carr, who had dined with his friends under the 
 excuse of not adding to the awkwardness of the first day's 
 housekeeping, returned late at night with a mass of papers 
 and drawings, into which he afterwards withdrew, but not 
 until he had delivered himself of a mysterious package
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 353 
 
 intrusted to him by the young men for his daughters. It 
 contained a contribution to their board in the shape of a 
 silver spoon and battered silver mug, which Jessie chose 
 to facetiously consider as an affecting reminiscence of the 
 youthful Kearney's christening days which it probably 
 was. 
 
 The young girls retired early to their white snow- 
 drifts: Jessie not without some hilarious struggles with 
 hers, in which she was, however, quickly surprised by the 
 deep and refreshing sleep of youth; Christie to lie awake 
 and listen to the night wind, that had changed from the 
 first cool whispers of sunset to the sturdy breath of the 
 mountain. At times the frail house shook and trembled. 
 Wandering gusts laden with the deep resinous odors of the 
 wood found their way through the imperfect jointure of 
 the two cabins, swept her cheek and even stirred her long, 
 wide-open lashes. A broken spray of pine needles rustled 
 along the roof, or a pine cone dropped with a quick rever- 
 berating tap-tap that for an instant startled her. Lying 
 thus, wide awake, she fell into a dreamy reminiscence of 
 the past, hearing snatches of old melody in the moving 
 pines, fragments of sentences, old words, and familiar epi- 
 thets in the murmuring wind at her ear, and even the faint 
 breath of long-forgotten kisses on her cheek. She remem- 
 bered her mother a pallid creature, who had slowly faded 
 out of one of her father's vague speculations in a vaguer 
 speculation of her own, beyond his ken whose place she 
 had promised to take at her father's side. The words, 
 "Watch over him, Christie; he needs a woman's care," 
 again echoed in her ears, as if borne on the night wind 
 from the lonely grave in the lonelier cemetery by the dis- 
 tant sea. She had devoted herself to him with some little 
 sacrifices of self, only remembered now for their uselessness 
 in saving her father the disappointment that sprang from 
 his sanguine and one-idea'd temperament. She thought
 
 354 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 of him lying asleep in the other room, ready on the morrow 
 to devote those fateful qualities to the new enterprise, that 
 with equally fateful disposition she believed would end in 
 failure. It did not occur to her that the doubts of her own 
 practical nature were almost as dangerous and illogical as 
 his enthusiasm, and that for that reason she was fast losing 
 what little influence she possessed over him. With the 
 example of her mother's weakness before her eyes, she had 
 become an unsparing and distrustful critic, with the sole 
 effect of awakening his distrust and withdrawing his confi- 
 dence from her. He was beginning to deceive her as he 
 had never deceived her mother. Even Jessie knew more 
 of this last enterprise than she did herself. 
 
 All that did not tend to decrease her utter restlessness. 
 It was already past midnight when she noticed that the 
 wind, had again abated. The mountain breeze had by this 
 time possessed the stifling valleys and heated bars of the 
 river in its strong, cold embraces; the equilibrium of na- 
 ture was restored, and a shadowy mist rose from the hollow. 
 A stillness, more oppressive and intolerable than the pre- 
 vious commotion, began to pervade the house and the 
 surrounding woods. She could hear the regular breathing 
 of the sleepers; she even fancied she could detect the faint 
 pulses of the more distant life in the settlement. The far- 
 off barking of a dog, a lost shout, the indistinct murmur 
 of some nearer watercourse mere phantoms of sound 
 made the silence more irritating. With a sudden resolu- 
 tion she arose, dressed herself quietly and completely, threw 
 a heavy cloak over her head and shoulders, and opened the 
 door between the living-room and her own. Her father 
 was sleeping soundly in his bunk in the corner. She 
 passed noiselessly through the room, opened the lightly 
 fastened door, and stepped out into the night. 
 
 In the irritation and disgust of her walk hither, she had 
 never noticed the situation of the cabin, as it nestled on
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 355 
 
 the slope at the fringe of the woods; in the preoccupation 
 of her disappointment and the mechanical putting away of 
 her things, she had never looked once from the window of 
 her room, or glanced backward out of the door that she 
 had entered. The view before her was a revelation a 
 reproach, a surprise that took away her breath. Over her 
 shoulders the newly risen moon poured a flood of silvery 
 light, stretching from her feet across the shining bars of 
 the river to the opposite bank, and on up to the very 
 crest of the Devil's Spur no longer a huge bulk of crush- 
 ing shadow, but the steady exaltation of plateau, spur, and 
 terrace clothed with replete and unutterable beauty. In 
 this magical light that beauty seemed to be sustained and 
 carried along by the river winding at its base, lifted again 
 to the broad shoulder of the mountain, and lost only in the 
 distant vista of deathlike, overcrowning snow. Behind 
 and above where she stood the towering woods seemed to 
 be waiting with opened ranks to absorb her with the little 
 cabin she had quitted, dwarfed into insignificance in the 
 vast prospect; but nowhere was there another sign or in- 
 dication of human life and habitation. She looked in vain 
 for the settlement, for the rugged ditches, the scattered 
 cabins, and the unsightly heaps of gravel. In the glamour 
 of the moonlight they had vanished; a veil of silver-gray 
 vapor touched here and there with ebony shadows masked 
 its site. A black strip beyond was the river bank. All 
 else was changed. With a sudden sense of awe and lone- 
 liness she turned to the cabin and its sleeping inmates all 
 that seemed left to her in the vast and stupendous domina- 
 tion of rock and wood and sky. 
 
 But in another moment the loneliness passed. A new 
 and delicious sense of an infinite hospitality and friendli- 
 ness in their silent presence began to possess her. This 
 same slighted, forgotten, uncomprehended, but still foolish 
 and forgiving Nature seemed to be bending over her
 
 356 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 frightened and listening ear with vague but thrilling mur- 
 murings of freedom and independence. She felt her heart 
 expand with its wholesome breath, her soul fill with its 
 sustaining truth. She felt 
 
 What was that? 
 
 An unmistakable outburst of a drunken song at the 
 foot of the slope : 
 
 " Oh, my name it is Johnny from Pike, 
 I 'm h 11 on a spree or a strike." . . . 
 
 She stopped as crimson with shame and indignation as 
 if the viewless singer had risen before her. 
 
 " I knew when to bet, and get up and get! " 
 
 " Hush ! D n it all. Don't you hear ? 
 
 There was the sound of hurried whispers, a "No" and 
 "Yes," and then a dead silence. 
 
 Christie crept nearer to the edge of the slope in the 
 shadow of a buckeye. In the clearer view she could dis- 
 tinguish a staggering figure in the trail below who had evi- 
 dently been stopped by two other expostulating shadows 
 that were approaching from the shelter of a tree. 
 
 "Sho! didn't know!" 
 
 The staggering figure endeavored to straighten itself, and 
 then slouched away in the direction of the settlement. 
 The two mysterious shadows retreated again to the tree, and 
 were lost in its deeper shadow. Christie darted back to the 
 cabin, and softly reentered her room. 
 
 "I thought I heard a noise that woke me, and I missed 
 you," said Jessie, rubbing her eyes. "Did you see any- 
 thing?" 
 
 "No," said Christie, beginning to undress. 
 
 "You weren't frightened, dear?" 
 
 "Not in the least," said Christie, with a strange little 
 laugh. "Go to sleep."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE five impulsive millionaires of Devil's Ford fulfilled 
 not a few of their most extravagant promises. In less 
 than six weeks Mr. Carr and his daughters were installed 
 in a new house, built near the site of the double cabin, 
 which was again transferred to the settlement, in order to 
 give greater seclusion to the fair guests. It was a long, 
 roomy, one-storied villa, with a 'not unpicturesque com- 
 bination of deep veranda and trelliswork, which relieved 
 the flat monotony of the interior and the barrenness of the 
 freshly cleared ground. An upright piano, brought from 
 Sacramento, occupied the corner of the parlor. A suite of 
 gorgeous furniture, whose pronounced and extravagant 
 glories the young girls instinctively hid under home-made 
 linen covers, had also been spoils from afar. Elsewhere 
 the house was filled with ornaments and decorations that 
 in their incongruity forcibly recalled the gilded plate-glass 
 mirrors of the bedroom in the old cabin. In the hasty 
 furnishing of this Aladdin's palace, the slaves of the ring 
 had evidently seized upon anything that would add to its 
 glory, without reference always to fitness. 
 
 "I wish it didn't look so cussedly like a robber's cave," 
 said George Kearney, when they were taking a quiet pre- 
 liminary survey of the unclassified treasures, before the 
 Carrs took possession. 
 
 "Or a gambling hell," said his brother reflectively. 
 
 "It's about the same thing, I reckon," said Dick Mat- 
 tingly, who was supposed, in his fiery youth, to have en- 
 countered the similarity.
 
 358 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 Nevertheless, the two girls managed to bestow the heter- 
 ogeneous collection with tasteful adaptation to their needs. 
 A crystal chandelier, which had once lent a fascinating 
 illusion to the game of monte, hung unlighted in the broad 
 hall, where a few other bizarre and public articles were 
 relegated. A long red sofa or bench, which had done duty 
 beside a billiard- table, found a place here also. Indeed, it 
 is to be feared that some of the more rustic and bashful 
 youths of Devil's Ford, who had felt it incumbent upon 
 them to pay their respects to the newcomers, were more 
 at ease in this vestibule than in the arcana beyond, whose 
 glories they could see through the open door. To others, 
 it represented a recognized state of probation before their 
 re-entree into civilization again. "I reckon, if you don't 
 mind, miss," said the spokesman of one party, "ez this is 
 our first call, we '11 sorter hang out in the hall yer, until 
 you're used to us." On another occasion, one Whiskey 
 Dick, impelled by a sense of duty, paid a visit to the new 
 house and its fair occupants, in a fashion frankly recounted 
 by him afterwards at the bar of the Tecumseh Saloon. 
 
 "You see, boys, I dropped in there the other night, 
 when some of you fellows was doin' the high-toned 
 ' thank'e, marm ' business in the parlor. I just came to 
 anchor in the corner of the sofy in the hall, without let- 
 tin' on to say that I was there, and took up a Webster's 
 Dictionary that was on the table and laid it open keer- 
 less like, on my knees, ez if I was sorter consultin' it 
 and kinder dozed off there, listenin' to you fellows gassin' 
 with the young ladies, and that yer Miss Christie just 
 snakin' music outer that pianner, and I reckon I fell 
 asleep. Anyhow, I was there nigh on to two hours. It 's 
 mighty soothin', them fashionable calls; sorter knocks the 
 old camp dust outer a fellow, and sets him up again. " 
 
 It would have been well if the new life of the Devil's 
 Ford had shown no other irregularity than the harmless
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 359 
 
 eccentricities of its original locators. But the news of its 
 sudden fortune, magnified by report, began presently to 
 flood the settlement with another class of adventurers. A 
 tide of waifs, strays, and malcontents of old camps along 
 the river began to set towards Devil's Ford, in very much 
 the same fashion as the debris, drift, and alluvium had 
 been carried down in bygone days and cast upon its banks. 
 A few immigrant wagons, diverted from the highways of 
 travel by the fame of the new diggings, halted upon the 
 slopes of Devil's Spur and on the arid flats of the Ford, 
 and disgorged their sallow freight of alkali-poisoned, pre- 
 maturely aged women and children and maimed and fever- 
 stricken men. Against this rude form of domesticity were 
 opposed the chromo-tinted dresses and extravagant com- 
 plexions of a few single unattended women happily seen 
 more often at night and behind gilded bars than in the 
 garish light of day and an equal number of pale-faced, 
 dark-mustached, well-dressed, and suspiciously idle men. 
 A dozen rivals of Thompson's saloon had sprung up along 
 the narrow main street. There were two new hotels one 
 a "Temperance House," whose ascetic quality was confined 
 only to the abnegation of whiskey a rival stage office, 
 and a small one-storied building, from which the " Sierran 
 Banner " fluttered weekly, for " ten dollars a year, in ad- 
 vance." Insufferable in the glare of a Sabbath sun, bleak, 
 windy, and flaring in the gloom of a Sabbath night, and 
 hopelessly depressing on all days of the week, the First 
 Presbyterian Church lifted its blunt steeple from the bar- 
 renest area of the flats, and was hideous ! The civic im- 
 provements so enthusiastically contemplated by the five 
 millionaires in the earlier pages of this veracious chronicle 
 the fountain, reservoir, town-hall, and free library had 
 not yet been erected. Their sites had been anticipated by 
 more urgent buildings and mining works, unfortunately not 
 considered in the sanguine dreams of the enthusiasts, and,
 
 360 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 more significant still, their cost and expense had been 
 also anticipated by the enormous outlay of their earnings 
 in the work upon Devil's Ditch. 
 
 Nevertheless, the liberal fulfillment of their promise in 
 the new house in the suburbs blinded the young girls' eyes 
 to their shortcomings in the town. Their own remoteness 
 and elevation above its feverish life kept them from the 
 knowledge of much that was strange, and perhaps disturb- 
 ing to their equanimity. As they did not mix with the 
 immigrant women Miss Jessie's good-natured intrusion 
 into one of their half-nomadic camps one day having been 
 met with rudeness and suspicion they gradually fell into 
 the way of trusting the responsibility of new acquaintances 
 to the hands of their original hosts, and of consulting them 
 in the matter of local recreation. It thus occurred that 
 one day the two girls, on their way to the main street for 
 an hour's shopping at the Ville de Paris and Variety Store, 
 were stopped by Dick Mattingly a few yards from their 
 house with the remark that, as the county election was 
 then in progress, it would be advisable for them to defer 
 their intention for a few hours. As he did not deem it 
 necessary to add that two citizens, in the exercise of a 
 freeman's franchise, had been supplementing their ballots 
 with bullets, in front of an admiring crowd, they knew 
 nothing of the accident that removed from Devil's Ford an 
 entertaining stranger, who had only the night before par- 
 taken of their hospitality. 
 
 A week or two later, returning one morning from a stroll 
 in the forest, Christie and Jessie were waylaid by George 
 Kearney and Fairfax, and, under pretext of being shown 
 a new and romantic trail, were diverted from the regular 
 path. This enabled Mattingly and Maryland Joe to cut 
 down the body of a man hanged by the Vigilance Commit- 
 tee a few hours before on the regular trail, and to remon- 
 strate with the committee on the incompatibility of such 
 exhibitions with a maidenly worship of nature.
 
 DEVIL'S FOED 361 
 
 "With the whole county to hang a man in," expostu- 
 lated Joe, "you might keep clear of Carr's woods." 
 
 It is needless to add that the young girls never knew of 
 this act of violence, or the delicacy that kept them in 
 ignorance of it. Mr. Carr was too absorbed in business to 
 give heed to what he looked upon as a convulsion of society 
 as natural as a geological upheaval, and too prudent to 
 provoke the criticism of his daughters by comment in their 
 presence. 
 
 An equally unexpected confidence, however, took its 
 place. Mr. Carr having finished his coffee one morning, lin- 
 gered a moment over his perfunctory paternal embraces, with 
 the awkwardness of a preoccupied man endeavoring by the 
 assumption of a lighter interest to veil another abstraction. 
 
 "And what are we doing to-day, Christie 1 ?" he asked, 
 as Jessie left the dining-room. 
 
 " Oh, pretty much the usual thing nothing in particu- 
 lar. If George Kearney gets the horses from the summit, 
 we 're going to ride over to Indian Spring to picnic. Fair- 
 fax Mr. Munroe I always forget that man's real name 
 in this dreadfully familiar country well, he 's coming to 
 escort us, and take me, I suppose that is, if Kearney 
 takes Jessie." 
 
 "A very nice arrangement," returned her father, with a 
 slight nervous contraction of the corners of his mouth and 
 eyelids to indicate mischievousness. "I've no doubt 
 they '11 both be here. You know they usually are ha! 
 ha ! And what about the two Mattinglys and Philip Kear- 
 ney, eh?" he continued; "won't they be jealous?" 
 
 "It isn't their turn," said Christie carelessly; "besides, 
 they '11 probably be there." 
 
 "And I suppose they 're beginning to be resigned," said 
 Carr, smiling. 
 
 "What on earth are you talking of, father?" 
 
 She turned her clear brown eyes upon him, and was re-
 
 362 DEVIL'S FOED 
 
 garding him with such manifest unconsciousness of the drift 
 of his speech, and, withal, a little vague impatience of his 
 archness, that Mr. Carr was feebly alarmed. It had the 
 effect of banishing his assumed playfulness, which made 
 his serious explanation the more irritating. 
 
 "Well, I rather thought that that young Kearney was 
 paying considerable attention to to to Jessie," replied 
 her father, with hesitating gravity. 
 
 "What! that boy?" 
 
 "Young Kearney is one of the original locators, and an 
 equal partner in the mine. A very enterprising young fel- 
 low. In fact, much more advanced and bolder in his con- 
 ceptions than the others. I find no difficulty with him." 
 
 At another time Christie would have questioned the con- 
 vincing quality of this proof, but she was too much shocked 
 at her father's first suggestion to think of anything else. 
 
 "You don't mean to say, father, that you are talking 
 seriously of these men your friends whom we see every 
 day and our only company ? " 
 
 "No, no!" said Mr. Carr hastily; "you misunderstand., 
 I don't suppose that Jessie or you " 
 
 " Or me ! Am I included ? " 
 
 "You don't let me speak, Christie. I mean, I am not 
 talking seriously," continued Mr. Carr, with his most 
 serious aspect, "of you and Jessie in this matter; but it 
 may be a serious thing to these young men to be thrown 
 continually in the company of two attractive girls." 
 
 "I understand you mean that we should not see so 
 much of them," said Christie, with a frank expression of 
 relief so genuine as to utterly discompose her father. 
 "Perhaps you are right, though I fail to discover any- 
 thing serious in the attentions of young Kearney to Jessie 
 or whoever it may be to me. But it will be very 
 easy to remedy it, and see less of them. Indeed, we might 
 begin to-day with some excuse."
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 363 
 
 " Yes certainly. Of course ! " said Mr. Carr, fully 
 convinced of his utter failure, but, like most weak crea- 
 tures, consoling himself with the reflection that he had not 
 shown his hand or committed himself. "Yes; but it 
 would perhaps be just as well for the present to let things 
 go on as they were. We '11 talk of it again I'm in a 
 hurry now," and edging himself through the door, he 
 slipped away. 
 
 "What do you think is father's last idea? " said Chris- 
 tie, with, I fear, a slight lack of reverence in her tone, as 
 her sister reentered the room. "He thinks George Kear- 
 ney is paying you too much attention." 
 
 "No!" said Jessie, replying to her sister's half- inter- 
 rogative, half-amused glance with a frank, unconscious smile. 
 
 " Yes, and he says that Fairfax I think it 's Fairfax 
 is equally fascinated with me. " 
 
 Jessie's brow slightly contracted as she looked curiously 
 at her sister. 
 
 "Of all things," she said, "I wonder if any one has 
 put that idea into his dear old head. He could n't have 
 thought it himself." 
 
 "I don't know," said Christie musingly; "but perhaps 
 it 's just as well if we kept a little more to ourselves for a 
 while." 
 
 " Did father say so ? " said Jessie quickly. 
 
 "No, but that is evidently what he meant." 
 
 "Ye-es," said Jessie slowly, "unless" 
 
 " Unless what 1 " said Christie sharply. " Jessie, you 
 don't for a moment mean to say that you could possibly 
 conceive of anything else ? " 
 
 "I mean to say," said Jessie, stealing her arm around 
 her sister's waist demurely, "that you are perfectly right. 
 We '11 keep away from these fascinating Devil's Forders, 
 and particularly the youngest Kearney. I believe there 
 has been some ill-natured gossip. I remember that the
 
 364 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 other day, when we passed the shanty of that Pike County 
 family on the slope, there were three women at the door, 
 and one of them said something that made poor little 
 Kearney turn white and pink alternately, and dance with 
 suppressed rage. I suppose the old lady M'Corkle, that 's 
 her name would like to have a share of our cavaliers 
 for her Euphemy and Mamie. I dare say it's only right; 
 I would lend them the cherub occasionally, and you might 
 let them have Mr. Munroe twice a week." 
 
 She laughed, but her eyes sought her sister's with a cer- 
 tain watchfulness of expression. 
 
 Christie shrugged her shoulders, with a suggestion of 
 
 "Don't joke. We ought to have thought of all this 
 before." 
 
 " But when we first knew them, in the dear old cabin, 
 there wasn't any other woman and nobody to gossip, and 
 that 's what made it so nice. I don't think so very much 
 of civilization, do you ? " said the young lady pertly. 
 
 Christie did not reply. Perhaps she was thinking the 
 same thing. It certainly had been very pleasant to enjoy 
 the spontaneous and chivalrous homage of these men, with 
 no further suggestion of recompense or responsibility than 
 the permission to be worshiped; but beyond that she 
 racked her brain in vain to recall any look or act that pro- 
 claimed the lover. These men, whom she had found so 
 relapsed into barbarism that they had forgotten the most 
 ordinary forms of civilization; these men, even in whose 
 extravagant admiration there was a certain loss of self- 
 respect, that as a woman she would never forgive; these 
 men, who seemed to belong to another race impossible ! 
 Yet it was so. 
 
 "What construction must they have put upon her fa- 
 ther's acceptance of their presents of their company 
 of her freedom in their presence? No! they must have
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 365 
 
 understood from the beginning that she and her sister had 
 never looked upon them except as transient hosts and 
 chance acquaintances. Any other idea was preposterous. 
 And yet " 
 
 It was the recurrence of this "yet" that alarmed her. 
 For she remembered now that but for their slavish devo- 
 tion they might claim to be her equal. According to her 
 father's account, they had come from homes as good as 
 their own; they were certainly more than her equal in for- 
 tune; and her father had come to them as an employee, un- 
 til they had taken him into partnership. If there had only 
 been sentiment of any kind connected with any of them! 
 But they were all alike, brave, unselfish, humorous and 
 often ridiculous. If anything, Dick Mattingly was funni- 
 est by nature, and made her laugh more. Maryland Joe, 
 his brother, told better stories (sometimes of Dick), though 
 not so good a mimic as the other Kearney, who had a fairly 
 sympathetic voice in singing. They were all good looking 
 enough ; perhaps they set store on that men are so vain ! 
 
 And as for her own rejected suitor, Fairfax Munroe, 
 except for a kind of grave and proper motherliness about 
 his protecting manner, he absolutely was the most indis- 
 tinctive of them all. He had once brought her some rare 
 tea from the Chinese camp, and had taught her how to 
 make it; he had cautioned her against sitting under the 
 trees at nightfall; he had once taken off his coat to wrap 
 around her. Eeally, if this were the only evidence of 
 devotion that could be shown, she was safe ! 
 
 "Well," said Jessie, "it amuses you, I see." 
 
 Christie checked the smile that had been dimpling the 
 cheek nearest Jessie, and turned upon her the face of an 
 elder sister. 
 
 "Tell me, have you noticed this extraordinary attention 
 of Mr. Munroe to me ? " 
 
 " Candidly ? " asked Jessie, seating herself comfortably
 
 366 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 on the table sideways, and endeavoring to pull her skirt 
 over her little feet. " Honest Injun ? " 
 
 "Don't be idiotic, and, above all, don't be slangy! Of 
 course, candidly." 
 
 "Well, no. I can't say that I have." 
 
 "Then," said Christie, "why in the name of all that's 
 preposterous, do they persist in pairing me off with the 
 least interesting man of the lot ? " 
 
 Jessie leaped from the table. 
 
 "Come now," she said, with a little nervous laugh, 
 "he 's not so bad as all that. You don't know him. But 
 what does it matter now, as long as we 're not going to see 
 them any more ? " 
 
 "They 're coming here for the ride to-day," said Chris- 
 tie resignedly. "Father thought it better not to break it 
 off at once." 
 
 "Father thought so! " echoed Jessie, stopping, with her 
 hand on the door. 
 
 "Yes; why do you ask? " 
 
 But Jessie had already left the room, and was singing in 
 thehalL
 
 CHAPTEE IV 
 
 THE afternoon did not, however, bring their expected 
 visitors. It brought, instead, a brief note by the hands of 
 "Whiskey Dick from Fairfax, apologizing for some business 
 that kept him and George Kearney from accompanying the 
 ladies. It added that the horses were at the disposal of 
 themselves and any escort they might select, if they would 
 kindly give the message to Whiskey Dick. 
 
 The two girls looked at each other awkwardly; Jessie 
 did not attempt to conceal a slight pout. 
 
 "It looks as if they were anticipating us," she said, 
 with a half-forced smile. "I wonder, now, if there really 
 has been any gossip? But no! They wouldn't have 
 stopped for that, unless " She looked curiously at her 
 sister. 
 
 "Unless what?" repeated Christie; "you are horribly 
 mysterious this morning." 
 
 "Am I? It's nothing. But they're wanting an an- 
 swer. Of course you '11 decline." 
 
 "And intimate we only care for their company! No! 
 We '11 say we 're sorry they can't come, and accept 
 their horses. We can do without an escort, we two." 
 
 "Capital!" said Jessie, clapping her hands. "We'll 
 show them " 
 
 "We'll show them nothing," interrupted Christie de- 
 cidedly. "In our place there 's only the one thing to do. 
 Where is this Whiskey Dick ? " 
 
 "In the parlor." 
 
 "The parlor!" echoed Christie. "Whiskey Dick? 
 What is he"
 
 368 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 "Yes; he 's all right," said Jessie confidently. "He 'a 
 heen here before, hut he stayed in the hall; he was so shy. 
 I don't think you saw him." 
 
 "I should think not Whiskey Dick!" 
 
 " Oh, you can call him Mr. Hall, if you like, " said Jes- 
 sie, laughing. "His real name is Dick Hall. If you 
 want to be funny, you can say Alky Hall, as the others 
 do." 
 
 Christie's only reply to this levity was a look of su- 
 perior resignation as she crossed the hall and entered the 
 parlor. 
 
 Then ensued one of those surprising, mystifying, and 
 utterly inexplicable changes that leave the masculine being 
 so helpless in the hands of his feminine master. Before 
 Christie opened the door her face underwent a rapid trans- 
 formation: the gentle glow of a refined woman's welcome 
 suddenly beamed in her interested eyes; the impulsive 
 courtesy of an expectant hostess eagerly seizing a long- 
 looked-for opportunity broke in a smile upon her lips as she 
 swept across the room, and stopped with her two white 
 outstretched hands before Whiskey Dick. 
 
 It needed only the extravagant contrast presented by 
 that gentleman to complete the tableau. Attired in a suit 
 of shining black alpaca, the visitor had evidently prepared 
 himself with some care for a possible interview. He was 
 seated by the French window opening upon the veranda, 
 as if to secure a retreat in case of an emergency. Scrupu- 
 lously washed and shaven, some of the soap appeared to 
 have lingered in his eyes and inflamed the lids, even while 
 it lent a sleek and shining lustre, not unlike his coat, to 
 his smooth black hair. Nevertheless, leaning back in his 
 chair, he had allowed a large white handkerchief to depend 
 gracefully from his fingers a pose at once suggesting easy 
 and elegant languor. 
 
 "How kind of you to give me an opportunity to make
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 369 
 
 up for my misfortune when you last called ! I was so sorry 
 to have missed you. But it was entirely my fault ! You 
 were hurried, I think you conversed with others in the 
 hall you " 
 
 She stopped to assist him to pick up the handkerchief 
 that had fallen, and the Panama hat that had rolled from 
 his lap towards the window when he had started suddenly 
 to his feet at the apparition of grace and beauty. As he 
 still nervously retained the two hands he had grasped, this 
 would have been a difficult feat, even had he not endea- 
 vored at the same moment, by a backward furtive kick, to 
 propel the hat out of the window, at which she laughingly 
 broke from his grasp and flew to the rescue. 
 
 "Don't mind it, miss," he said hurriedly. "It is not 
 worth your demeaning yourself to touch it. Leave it out- 
 side thar, miss. I wouldn't have toted it in, anyhow, if 
 some of those highfalutin' fellows had n't allowed, the 
 other night, ez it were the reg'lar thing to do; as if, miss, 
 any gentleman kalkilated to ever put on his hat in the 
 house afore a lady ! " 
 
 But Christie had already possessed herself of the unlucky 
 object, and had placed it upon the table. This compelled 
 Whiskey Dick to rise again, and as an act of careless good 
 breeding to drop his handkerchief in it. He then leaned 
 one elbow upon the piano, and crossing one foot over the 
 other, remained standing in an attitude he remembered to 
 have seen in the pages of an illustrated paper as portraying 
 the hero in some drawing-room scene. It was easy and 
 effective, but seemed to be more favorable to reverie than 
 conversation. Indeed, he remembered that he had forgot- 
 ten to consult the letterpress as to which it represented. 
 
 "I see you agree with me, that politeness is quite a mat- 
 ter of intention," said Christie, "and not of mere fashion 
 and rules. Now, for instance," she continued, with a 
 dazzling smile, "I suppose, according to the rules, I ought
 
 870 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 to give you a note to Mr. Munroe, accepting his offer. 
 That is all that is required; but it seems so much nicer 
 don't you think ? to tell it to you for him, and have the 
 pleasure of your company and a little chat at the same 
 time." 
 
 "That 's it, that 's just it, Miss Carr; you 've hit it in the 
 centre this time, " said Whiskey Dick, now quite convinced 
 that his attitude was not intended for eloquence, and 
 shifting back to his own seat, hat and all; "that's tanta- 
 mount to what I said to the boys just now. ' You want 
 an excuse, ' sez I, ' for not goin' out with the young ladies. 
 So, accorden' to rules, you writes, a letter allowin' buzzi- 
 ness and that sorter thing detains you. But wot 's the 
 facts ? You 're a gentleman, and as gentlemen you and 
 George comes to the opinion that you 're rather playin' it 
 for all it 's worth in this yer house, you know comin' 
 here night and day, off and on, reg'lar sociable and fam'ly 
 like, and makin' people talk about things they ain't any 
 call to talk about, and, what 's a darned sight more, you 
 fellows ain't got any right yet to allow 'em to talk about, 
 d' ye see ? ' " He paused, out of breath. 
 
 It was Miss Christie's turn to move about. In changing 
 her seat to the piano-stool, so as to be nearer her visitor, 
 she brushed down some loose music, which Whiskey Dick 
 hastened to pick up. 
 
 "Pray don't mind it," she said, "pray don't, really 
 let it be " But Whiskey Dick, feeling himself on safe 
 ground in this attention, persisted to the bitter end of a dis- 
 integrated and well-worn "Trovatore." "So that is what 
 Mr. Munroe said," she remarked quietly. 
 
 "Not just then, in course, but it's what's bin on his 
 mind and in his talk for days off and on," returned Dick, 
 with a knowing smile and a nod of mysterious confidence. 
 " Bless your soul, Miss Carr, folks like you and me don't 
 need to have them things explained. That 's what I said
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 371 
 
 to him, sez I. ' Don't send no note, but just go up there 
 and hev it out fair and square, and say what you do mean. ' 
 But they would hev the note, and I kalkilated to bring it. 
 But when I set my eyes on you, and heard you express 
 yourself as you did just now, I sez to myself, sez I, ' Dick, 
 yer 's a young lady, and a fash'nable lady at that, ez don't 
 go foolin' round on rules and etiketts ' excuse my free- 
 dom, Miss Carr ' and you and her,' sez I, ' kin just dis- 
 cuss this yer matter in a sociable, off-hand, fash'nable way. ' 
 They 're a good lot o' boys, Miss Carr, a square lot 
 white men all of 'em; but they 're a little soft and green, 
 maybe, from livin' in these yer pine woods along o' the 
 other sap. They just worship the ground you and your 
 sister tread on certain ! of course ! of course ! " he added 
 hurriedly, recognizing Christie's half-conscious, deprecating 
 gesture with more exaggerated deprecation. " I understand. 
 But what I wanter say is that they 'd be willin' to be that 
 ground, and lie down and let you walk over them so to 
 speak, Miss Carr, so to speak if it would keep the hem 
 of your gown from gettin' soiled in the mud o' the camp. 
 But it would n't do for them to make a reg'lar curderoy 
 road o' themselves for the huol camp to trapse over, on 
 the mere chance of your some time passin' that way, would 
 it now 1 " 
 
 "Won't you let me offer you some refreshment, Mr. 
 Hall?" said Christie, rising, with a slight color. "I'm 
 really ashamed of my forgetfulness again, but I 'm afraid 
 it 's partly your fault for entertaining me to the exclu- 
 sion of yourself. No, thank you, let me fetch it for 
 you. " 
 
 She turned to a handsome sideboard near the door, and 
 presently faced him again with a decanter of whiskey and 
 a glass in her hand, and a return of the bewitching smile 
 she had worn on entering. 
 
 " But perhaps you don't take whiskey ? " suggested the
 
 372 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 arch deceiver, with a sudden affected but pretty perplexity 
 of eye, brow, and lips. 
 
 For the first time in his life Whiskey Dick hesitated 
 between two forms of intoxication. But he was still ner- 
 vous and uneasy; habit triumphed, and he took the whis- 
 key. He, however, wiped his lips with a slight wave 
 of his handkerchief, to support a certain easy elegance 
 which he firmly believed relieved the act of any vulgar 
 quality. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," he continued, after an exhilarated pause. 
 "Ez I said afore, this yer 's a matter you and me kin dis- 
 cuss after the fashion o' society. My idea is that these yer 
 boys should kinder let up on you and Miss Jessie for a 
 while, and do a little more permiskus attention round the 
 Ford. There 's one or two families yer with grown-up 
 gals ez oughter be squared ; that is the boys mighter put 
 in a few fancy touches among them kinder take 'em 
 buggy riding or to church once in a while just to 
 take the pizen outer their tongues, and make a kind o' bluff 
 to the parents, d' ye see 1 That would sorter divert their 
 own minds; and even if it didn't, it would kinder get 'em 
 accustomed agin to the old style and their own kind. I 
 want to warn ye agin an idea that might occur to you in 
 a giniral way. I don't say you hev the idea, but it 's kind 
 o' nat'ral you might be thinkin' of it some time, and I 
 thought I 'd warn you agin it." 
 
 "I think we understand each other too well to differ 
 much, Mr. Hall," said Christie, still smiling; "but what is 
 the idea?" 
 
 The delicate compliment to their confidential relations 
 and the slight stimulus of liquor had tremulously exalted 
 Whiskey Dick. Affecting to look cautiously out of the 
 window and around the room, he ventured to draw nearer 
 the young woman with a half-paternal, half-timid familiar- 
 ity.
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 373 
 
 "It might have occurred to you," he said, laying his 
 hand lightly, holding his handkerchief as if to veil mere 
 vulgar contact, on Christie's shoulder, "that it would be a 
 good thing on your side to invite down some of your 
 high-toned gentlemen friends from 'Frisco to visit you and 
 escort you round. It seems quite nat'ral like, and I don't 
 say it ain't, but the boys wouldn't stand it." 
 
 In spite of her self-possession Christie's eyes suddenly 
 darkened, and she involuntarily drew herself up. But 
 Whiskey Dick, guiltily attributing the movement to his 
 own indiscreet gesture, said, "Excuse me, miss," recovered 
 himself by lightly dusting her shoulder with his handker- 
 chief, as if to remove the impression, and her smile re- 
 turned. 
 
 "They wouldn't stand it," said Dick, "and there 'd be 
 some shooting ! Not afore you, miss not afore you, in 
 course! But they 'd adjourn to the woods some morning 
 with them city folks, and hev it out with rifles at a hun- 
 dred yards. Or, seein' ez they 're city folks, the boys 
 would do the square thing with pistols at twelve paces. 
 They 're good boys, as I said afore; but they 're quick and 
 tetchy George, being the youngest, nat' rally is the tetch- 
 iest. You know how it is, Miss Carr; his pretty, gal-like 
 face and little mustaches haz cost him half a dozen scrim- 
 mages already. He 'z had a fight for every hair that 'a 
 growed in his mustache since he kem here." 
 
 " Say no more, Mr. Hall ! " said Christie, rising and 
 pressing her hands lightly on Dick's tremulous fingers. 
 "If I ever had any such idea, I should abandon it now; 
 you are quite right in this as in your other opinions. I 
 shall never cease to be thankful to Mr. Munroe and Mr. 
 Kearney that they intrusted this delicate matter to your 
 hands. " 
 
 "Well," said the gratified and reddening visitor, "it 
 ain't perhaps the square thing to them or myself to say
 
 374 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 that they reckoned to have me discuss their delicate affairs 
 for them, but " 
 
 "I understand," interrupted Christie. "They simply 
 gave you the letter as a friend. It was my good fortune 
 to find you a sympathizing and liberal man of the world." 
 The delighted Dick, with conscious vanity beaming from 
 every feature of his shining face, lightly waved the com- 
 pliment aside with his handkerchief, as she continued, " But 
 I am forgetting the message. We accept the horses. Of 
 course we could do without an escort; but, forgive my 
 speaking so frankly, are you engaged this afternoon ? " 
 
 "Excuse me, miss, I don't take" stammered Dick, 
 scarcely believing his ears. 
 
 " Could you give us your company as an escort ? " re- 
 peated Christie, with a smile. 
 
 Was he awake or dreaming, or was this some trick of 
 liquor in his often distorted fancy 1 He, Whiskey Dick ! 
 the butt of his friends, the chartered oracle of the bar- 
 rooms, even in whose wretched vanity there was always the 
 haunting suspicion that he was despised and scorned; he, 
 who had dared so much in speech, and achieved so little 
 in fact ! he, whose habitual weakness had even led him into 
 the wildest indiscretion here ; he now offered a reward 
 for that indiscretion! He, Whiskey Dick, the solicited 
 escort of these two beautiful and peerless girls! What 
 would they say at the Ford? What would his friends 
 think ? It would be all over the Ford the next day. His 
 past would be vindicated, his future secured. He grew 
 erect at the thought. It was almost in other voice, and 
 with no trace of his previous exaggeration, that he said, 
 "With pleasure." 
 
 "Then, if you will bring the horses at once, we shall 
 be ready when you return." 
 
 In another instant he had vanished, as if afraid to trust 
 the reality of his good fortune to the dangers of delay.
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 375 
 
 At the end of half an hour he reappeared, leading the two 
 horses, himself mounted on a half-broken mustang. A 
 pair of large, jingling silver spurs and a stiff sombrero, bor- 
 rowed with the mustang from some mysterious source, were 
 donned to do honor to the occasion. 
 
 The young girls were not yet ready, but he was shown 
 by the Chinese servant into the parlor to wait for them. 
 The decanter of whiskey and glasses were still invitingly 
 there. He was hot, trembling, and flushed with triumph. 
 He walked to the table and laid his hand on the decanter, 
 when an odd thought flashed upon him. He would not 
 drink this time. No, it should not be said that he, the 
 selected escort of the elite of Devil's Ford, had to fill him- 
 self up with whiskey before they started. The boys might 
 turn to each other in their astonishment, as he proudly 
 passed with his fair companions, and say, " It 's Whiskey 
 Dick," but he 'd be d d if they should add, "and full as 
 ever." No, sir! Nor when he was riding beside these 
 real ladies, and leaning over them at some confidential 
 moment, should they even know it from his breath ! No. 
 . . . Yet a thimbleful, taken straight, only a thimbleful, 
 would n't be much, and might help to pull him together. 
 He again reached his trembling hand for the decanter, 
 ^hesitated, and then, turning his back upon it, resolutely 
 walked to the open window. Almost at the same instant 
 he found himself face to face with Christie on the veranda. 
 
 She looked into his bloodshot eyes, and cast a swift 
 glance at the decanter. 
 
 "Won't you take something before you go?" she said 
 sweetly. 
 
 "I reckon not, jest now," stammered Whiskey 
 Dick, with a heroic effort. 
 
 "You're right," said Christie. "I see you are like 
 me. It 's too hot for anything fiery. Come with me." 
 
 She led him to the dining-room, and pouring out a
 
 376 DEVIL'S FOKD 
 
 glass of iced tea handed it to him. Poor Dick was not pre- 
 pared for this terrible culmination. Whiskey Dick and 
 iced tea ! But under pretense of seeing if it was properly 
 flavored, Christie raised it to her own lips. 
 
 "Try it, to please me." 
 
 He drained the goblet. 
 
 "Now, then," said Christie gayly, "let 's find Jessie, and 
 be off!"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 WHATEVER might have been his other deficiencies as an 
 escort, Whiskey Dick was a good horseman, and in spite 
 of his fractious brute, exhibited such skill and confidence as 
 to at once satisfy the young girls of his value to them in 
 the management of their own horses, to whom side-saddles 
 were still an alarming novelty. Jessie, who had probably 
 already learned from her sister the purport of Dick's confi- 
 dences, had received him with equal cordiality and perhaps 
 a more unqualified amusement; and now, when fairly lifted 
 into the saddle by his tremulous but respectful hands, made 
 a very charming picture of youthful and rosy satisfaction. 
 And when Christie, more fascinating than ever in her rid- 
 ing-habit, took her place on the other side of Dick, as they 
 sallied from the gate, that gentleman felt his cup of hap- 
 piness complete. His triumphal entree into the world of 
 civilization and fashion was secure. He did not regret the 
 un tasted liquor; here was an experience in after years to 
 lean his back against comfortably in bar-rooms, to entrance 
 or defy mankind. He had even got so far as to formulate 
 in fancy the sentence: "I remember, gentlemen, that one 
 afternoon, being on a pasear with two fash'nable young 
 ladies," etc., etc. 
 
 At present, however, he was obliged to confine himself 
 to the functions of an elegant guide and cicerone when 
 not engaged in " having it out " with his horse. Their way 
 lay along the slope, crossing the highroad at right angles, 
 to reach the deeper woods beyond. Dick would have lin- 
 gered on the highway ostensibly to point out to his com-
 
 378 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 panions the new flume that had taken the place of the con- 
 demned ditch, but really in the hope of exposing himself in 
 his glory to the curious eyes of the wayfaring world. Un- 
 happily the road was deserted in the still powerful sunlight, 
 and he was obliged to seek the cover of the woods, with 
 a passing compliment to the parent of his charges. Wav- 
 ing his hand towards the flume, he said, "Look at that 
 work of your father's; there ain't no other man in Cali- 
 forny but Philip Carr ez would hev the grit to hold up such 
 a bluff agin natur and agin luck ez that yer flume stands 
 for. I don't say it 'cause you're his daughters, ladies! 
 That ain't the style, ez you know, in sassiety, Miss Carr," 
 he added, turning to Christie as the more socially experi- 
 enced. "No! but there ain't another man to be found ez 
 could do it. It cost already two hundred thousand; it '11 
 cost five hundred thousand afore it 's done ; and every cent 
 of it is got out of the yearth beneath it, or hez got to be 
 out of it. 'T ain't ev'ry man, Miss Carr, ez hev got the 
 pluck to pledge not only what he 's got, but what he 
 reckons to git." 
 
 "But suppose he don't get it?" said Christie, slightly 
 contracting her brows. 
 
 "Then there 's the flume to show for it," said Dick. 
 
 "But of what use is the flume, if there isn't any more 
 gold 1 " continued Christie, almost angrily. 
 
 "That 's good from you, miss," said Dick, giving way to 
 a fit of hilarity. " That 's good for a fash'nable young lady 
 own daughter of Philip Carr. She sez, says she," con- 
 tinued Dick, appealing to the sedate pines for appreciation 
 of Christie's rare humor, "' Wot 's the use of a flume, when 
 gold ain't there ? ' I must tell that to the boys." 
 
 "And what's the use of the gold in the ground when 
 the flume isn't there to work it out?" said Jessie to her 
 sister, with a cautioning glance towards Dick. 
 
 But Dick did not notice the look that passed between the
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 379 
 
 sisters. The richer humor of Jessie's retort had thrown 
 him into convulsions of laughter. 
 
 "And now she says, wot 's the use o' the gold without 
 the flume? 'Xcuse me, ladies, but that 's just puttin' the 
 hull questin that 's agitatin' this yer camp inter two speeches 
 as clear as crystal. There 's the hull crowd outside and 
 some on 'em inside like Fairfax, hez their doubts ez says 
 with Miss Christie; and there 's all of us inside, ez holds 
 Miss Jessie's views." 
 
 "I never heard Mr. Munroe say that the flume was 
 wrong," said Jessie quickly. 
 
 "Not to you, nat'rally," said Dick, with a confidential 
 look at Christie; "but I reckon he'd like some of the 
 money it cost laid out for suthin' else. But what 's the 
 odds 1 The gold is there, and we 're bound to get it. " 
 
 Dick was the foreman of a gang of paid workmen, who 
 had replaced the millionaires in mere manual labor, and 
 the we was a polite figure of speech. 
 
 The conversation seemed to have taken an unfortunate 
 turn, and both the girls experienced a feeling of relief when 
 they entered the long gulch or defile that led to Indian 
 Spring. The track now becoming narrow, they were obliged 
 to pass in single file along the precipitous hillside, led by this 
 escort. This effectually precluded any further speech, and 
 Christie at once surrendered herself to the calm, obliterat- 
 ing influences of the forest. The settlement and its gossip 
 were far behind and forgotten. In the absorption of na- 
 ture, her companions passed out of her mind, even as they 
 sometimes passed out of her sight in the windings of the 
 shadowy trail. As she rode alone, the fronds of breast- 
 high ferns seemed to caress her with outstretched and 
 gently detaining hands; strange wild-flowers sprang up 
 through the parting underbrush; even the granite rocks 
 that at times pressed closely upon the trail appeared as if 
 cushioned to her contact with star-rayed mosses, or lightly
 
 380 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 flung after her long lassoes of delicate vines. She recalled 
 the absolute freedom of their al-fresco life in the old double 
 cabin, when she spent the greater part of her waking hours 
 under the mute trees in the encompassing solitude, and 
 half regretting the more civilised restraints of this newer 
 and more ambitious abode, forgot that she had ever rebelled 
 against it. The social complication that threatened her now 
 seemed to her rather the outcome of her half-civilized par- 
 lor than of the sylvan glade. How easy it would have 
 been to have kept the cabin, and then to have gone away 
 entirely, than for her father to have allowed them to be 
 compromised with the growing fortunes of the settlement! 
 The suspicions and distrust that she had always felt of 
 their fortunes seemed to grow with the involuntary admis- 
 sion of Whiskey Dick that they were shared by others who 
 were practical men. She was fain to have recourse to the 
 prospect again to banish these thoughts, and this opened 
 her eyes to the fact that her companions had been missing 
 from the trail ahead of her for some time. She quickened 
 her pace slightly to reach a projecting point of rock that 
 gave her a more extended prospect. But they had evi- 
 dently disappeared. 
 
 She was neither alarmed nor annoyed. She could easily 
 overtake them soon, for they would miss her, and return or 
 wait for her at the spring. At the worst she would have no 
 difficulty in retracing her steps home. In her present mood, 
 she could readily spare their company ; indeed, she was not 
 sorry that no other being should interrupt that sympathy 
 with the free woods which was beginning to possess her. 
 
 She was destined, however, to be disappointed. She 
 had not proceeded a hundred yards before she noticed the 
 moving figure of a man beyond her in the hillside chaparral 
 above the trail. He seemed to be going in the same di- 
 rection as herself, and, as she fancied, endeavoring to avoid 
 her. This excited her curiosity to the point of urging her
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 381 
 
 horse forward until the trail broadened into the level forest 
 again, which she now remembered was a part of the envi- 
 rons of Indian Spring. The stranger hesitated, pausing 
 once or twice with his back towards her, as if engaged in 
 carefully examining the dwarf willows to select a switch. 
 Christie slightly checked her speed as she drew nearer; 
 when, as if obedient to a sudden resolution, he turned and 
 advanced towards her. She was relieved and yet surprised 
 to recognize the boyish face and figure of George Kearney. 
 He was quite pale and agitated, although attempting, by 
 a jaunty swinging of the switch he had just cut, to assume 
 the appearance of ease and confidence. 
 
 Here was an opportunity. Christie resolved to profit by 
 it. She did not doubt that the young fellow had already 
 passed her sister on the trail, but, from bashfulness, had 
 not dared to approach her. By inviting his confidence, she 
 would doubtless draw something from him that would deny 
 or corroborate her father's opinion of his sentiments. If 
 he was really in love with Jessie, she would learn what 
 reasons he had for expecting a serious culmination of his 
 suit, and perhaps she might be able delicately to open his 
 eyes to the truth. If, as she believed, it was only a boy- 
 ish fancy, she would laugh him out of it with that ca- 
 maraderie which had always existed between them. A 
 half-motherly sympathy, albeit born quite as much from a 
 contemplation of his beautiful yearning eyes as from his 
 interesting position, lightened the smile with which she 
 greeted him. 
 
 "So you contrived to throw over your stupid business 
 and join us, after all," she said; "or was it that you 
 changed your mind at the last moment ? " she added mis- 
 chievously. "I thought only we women were permitted 
 that ! " Indeed, she could not help noticing that there was 
 really a strong feminine suggestion in the shifting color and 
 slightly conscious eyelids of the young fellow.
 
 382 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 "Do young girls always change their minds?" asked 
 George, with an embarrassed smile. 
 
 "Not always; but sometimes they don't know their own 
 mind particularly if they are very young; and when 
 they do at last, you clever creatures of men, who have in- 
 terpreted their ignorance to please yourselves, abuse them 
 for being fickle." She stopped to observe the effect of 
 what she believed a rather clear and significant exposition 
 of Jessie's and George's possible situation. But she was 
 not prepared for the look of blank resignation that seemed 
 to drive the color from his face and moisten the fire of his 
 dark eyes. 
 
 "I reckon you 're right," he said, looking down. 
 
 "Oh! we 're not accusing you of fickleness," said Chris- 
 tie gayly ; "although you did n't come, and we were obliged 
 to ask Mr. Hall to join us. I suppose you found him and 
 Jessie just now ? " 
 
 But George made no reply. The color was slowly com- 
 ing back to his face, which, as she glanced covertly at him, 
 seemed to have grown so much older that his returning 
 blood might have brought two or three years with it. 
 
 "Really, Mr. Kearney," she said dryly, "one would 
 think that some silly, conceited girl " she was quite ear- 
 nest in her epithets, for a sudden, angry conviction of some 
 coquetry and disingenuousness in Jessie had come to her in 
 contemplating its effects upon the young fellow at her side 
 "some country jilt, had been trying her rustic hand 
 upon you." 
 
 "She is not silly, conceited, nor countrified," said 
 George, slowly raising his beautiful eyes to the young girl 
 half reproachfully. "It is I who am all that. No, she is 
 right, and you know it." 
 
 Much as Christie admired and valued her sister's charms, 
 she thought this was really going too far. What had Jes- 
 sie ever done what was Jessie to provoke and remain
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 383 
 
 insensible to such a blind devotion as this! And really, 
 looking at him now, he was not so very young for Jessie ; 
 whether his unfortunate passion had brought out all his 
 latent manliness, or whether he had hitherto kept his seri- 
 ous nature in the background, certainly he was not a boy. 
 And certainly his was not a passion that he could be 
 laughed out of. It was getting very tiresome. She wished 
 she had not met him at least until she had had some 
 clearer understanding with her sister. He was still walk- 
 ing beside her, with his hand on her bridle rein, partly to 
 lead her horse over some boulders in the trail, and partly 
 to conceal his first embarrassment. When they had fairly 
 reached the woods, he stopped. 
 
 "I am going to say good-by, Miss Carr." 
 
 "Are you not coming further! We must be near In- 
 dian Spring, now; Mr. Hall and and Jessie cannot be 
 far away. You will keep me company until we meet them t n 
 
 "No," he replied quietly. "I only stopped you to say 
 good-by. I am going away." 
 
 "Not from Devil's Ford! " she asked, in half -incredulous 
 astonishment " At least, not for long t " 
 
 "I am not coming back," he replied. 
 
 "But this is very abrupt," she said hurriedly, feeling 
 that in some ridiculous way she had precipitated an 
 equally ridiculous catastrophe. " Surely you are not going 
 away in this fashion, without saying good-by to Jessie and 
 and father t" 
 
 " I shall see your father, of course and you will give 
 my regards to Miss Jessie." 
 
 He evidently was in earnest. Was there ever anything 
 so perfectly preposterous f She became indignant. 
 
 "Of course," she said coldly, "I won't detain you; your 
 business must be urgent, and I forgot at least I had for- 
 gotten until to-day that you have other duties more 
 important than that of squire of dames. I am afraid this
 
 384 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 forgetfulness made me think you would not part from us 
 in quite such a business fashion. I presume, if you had 
 not met me just now, we should none of us have seen 
 you again ? " 
 
 He did not reply. 
 
 "Will you say good-by, Miss Carr? " 
 
 He held out his hand. 
 
 "One moment, Mr. Kearney. If I have said anything 
 which you think justifies this very abrupt leave-taking, I 
 beg you will forgive and forget it or, at least, let it have 
 no more weight with you than the idle words of any wo- 
 man. I only spoke generally. You know I I might 
 be mistaken." 
 
 His eyes, which had dilated when she began to speak, 
 darkened; his color, which had quickly come, as quickly 
 sank when she had ended. 
 
 "Don't say that, Miss Carr. It is not like you, and 
 it is useless. You know what I meant a moment ago. 
 I read it in your reply. You meant that I, like others, 
 had deceived myself. Did you not ? " 
 
 She could not meet those honest eyes with less than 
 equal honesty. She knew that Jessie did not love him 
 would not marry him whatever coquetry she might have 
 shown. 
 
 "I did not mean to offend you," she said hesitatingly; 
 "I only half suspected it when I spoke." 
 
 " And you wish to spare me the avowal 1 " he said bit- 
 terly. 
 
 "To me, perhaps, yes, by anticipating it. I could not 
 tell what ideas you might have gathered from some indis- 
 creet frankness of Jessie or my father, " she added, with 
 almost equal bitterness. 
 
 "I have never spoken to either," he replied quickly. He 
 stopped, and added, after a moment's mortifying reflection, 
 "I've been brought up in the woods, Miss Carr, and I
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 385 
 
 suppose I have followed my feelings, instead of the eti- 
 quette of society." 
 
 Christie was too relieved at the rehabilitation of Jessie's 
 truthfulness to notice the full significance of his speech. 
 
 " Good- by, " he said again, holding out his hand. 
 
 "Good-by!" 
 
 She extended her own, ungloved, with a frank smile. 
 He held it for a moment, with his eyes fixed upon hers. 
 Then suddenly, as if obeying an uncontrollable impulse, he 
 crushed it like a flower again and again against his burning 
 lips, and darted away. 
 
 Christie sank back in her saddle with a little cry, half 
 of pain and half of frightened surprise. Had the poor boy 
 suddenly gone mad, or was this vicarious farewell a part of 
 the courtship of Devil's Ford? She looked at her little 
 hand, which had reddened under the pressure, and suddenly 
 felt the flush extending to her cheeks and the roots of her 
 hair. This was intolerable. 
 
 "Christie!" 
 
 It was her sister emerging from the wood to seek her. 
 In another moment she was at her side. 
 
 "We thought you were following," said Jessie. "Good 
 heavens ! how you look ! What has happened 1 " 
 
 "Nothing. I met Mr. Kearney a moment ago on the 
 trail. He is going away, and and " She stopped, 
 furious and flushing. 
 
 " And, " said Jessie, with a burst of merriment, " he told 
 you at last he loved you. Oh, Christie ! "
 
 CHAPTEE VI 
 
 THE abrupt departure of George Kearney from Devil's 
 Ford excited but little interest in the community, and was 
 soon forgotten. It was generally attributed to differences 
 between himself and his partners on the question of further 
 outlay of their earnings on mining improvements he and 
 Philip Carr alone representing a sanguine minority whose 
 faith in the future of the mine accepted any risks. It was 
 alleged by some that he had sold out to his brother; it was 
 believed by others that he had simply gone to Sacramento 
 to borrow money on his share, in order to continue the 
 improvements on his own responsibility. The partners 
 themselves were uncommunicative; even Whiskey Dick, 
 who since his remarkable social elevation had become less 
 oracular, much to his own astonishment, contributed no- 
 thing to the gossip except a suggestion that as the fiery 
 temper of George Kearney brooked no opposition, even 
 from his brother, it was better they should separate before 
 the estrangement became serious. 
 
 Mr. Carr did not disguise his annoyance at the loss of 
 his young disciple and firm ally. But an unlucky allusion 
 to his previous remarks on Kearney's attentions to Jessie, 
 and a querulous regret that he had permitted a disruption 
 of their social intimacy, brought such an ominous and frigid 
 opposition, not only from Christie, but even from the friv- 
 olous Jessie herself, that Carr sank back in a crushed and 
 terrified silence. "I only meant to say," he stammered 
 after a pause, in which he, however, resumed his aggrieved 
 manner, "that Fairfax seems to come here still, and he is 
 not such a particular friend of mine."
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 387 
 
 "But he is and has your interest entirely at heart," 
 said Jessie stoutly, "and he only comes here to tell us how 
 things are going on at the works." 
 
 "And criticise your father, I suppose," said Mr. Carr, 
 with an attempt at jocularity that did not, however, dis- 
 guise an irritated suspiciousness. "He really seems to 
 have supplanted me as he has poor Kearney in your esti- 
 mation." 
 
 "Now, father," said Jessie, suddenly seizing him by the 
 shoulders in affected indignation, but really to conceal a 
 certain embarrassment that sprang quite as much from her 
 sister's quietly observant eye as her father's speech, "you 
 promised to let this ridiculous discussion drop. You will 
 make me and Christie so nervous that we will not dare to 
 open the door to a visitor, until he declares his innocence 
 of any matrimonial intentions. You don't want to give 
 color to the gossip that agreement with your views about 
 the improvements is necessary to getting on with us." 
 
 " Who dares talk such rubbish ? " said Carr, reddening ; 
 " is that the kind of gossip that Fairfax brings here 1 " 
 
 "Hardly, when it's known that he don't quite agree 
 with you, and does come here. That 's the best denial of 
 the gossip." 
 
 Christie, who had of late loftily ignored these discus- 
 sions, waited until her father had taken his departure. 
 
 "Then that is the reason why you still see Mr. Mun- 
 roe, after what you said," she remarked quietly to Jessie. 
 
 Jessie, who would have liked to escape with her father, 
 was obliged to pause on the threshold of the door, with a 
 pretty assumption of blank forgetfulness in her blue eyes 
 and lifted eyebrows. 
 
 " Said what 1 when 1 " she asked vacantly. 
 
 " When when Mr. Kearney that day in the woods 
 went away," said Christie, faintly coloring. 
 
 "Oh! that day," said Jessie briskly; " the day he just
 
 388 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 gloved your hand with kisses, and then fled wildly into 
 the forest to conceal his emotion." 
 
 "The day he behaved very foolishly," said Christie, 
 with reproachful calmness, that did not, however, prevent 
 a suspicion of indignant moisture in her eyes " when 
 you explained " 
 
 "That it wasn't meant for me," interrupted Jessie. 
 
 "That it was to you that Mr. Munroe's attentions were 
 directed. And then we agreed that it was better to pre- 
 vent any further advances of this kind by avoiding any 
 familiar relations with either of them." 
 
 "Yes," said Jessie, "I remember; but you're not con- 
 founding my seeing Fairfax occasionally now with that sort 
 of thing. He doesn't kiss my hand like anything," she 
 added, as if in abstract reflection. 
 
 "Nor run away, either," suggested the trodden worm, 
 turning. 
 
 There was an ominous silence. 
 
 "Do you know we are nearly out of coffee? " said Jes- 
 sie, choking, but moving towards the door with Spartan- 
 like calmness. 
 
 "Yes. And something must be done this very day 
 about the washing," said Christie, with suppressed emo- 
 tion, going towards the opposite entrance. 
 
 Tears stood in each other's eyes with this terrible ex- 
 change of domestic confidences. Nevertheless, after a 
 moment's pause, they deliberately turned again, and facing 
 each other with frightful calmness, left the room by pur- 
 poseless and deliberate exits other than those they had 
 contemplated a crushing abnegation of self, that, to some 
 extent, relieved their surcharged feelings. 
 
 Meantime the material prosperity of Devil's Ford in- 
 creased, if a prosperity based upon no visible foundation 
 but the confidence and hopes of its inhabitants could be 
 called material. Few, if any, stopped to consider that
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 389 
 
 the improvements, buildings, and business were simply the 
 outlay of capital brought from elsewhere, and as yet the 
 settlement or town, as it was now called, had neither pro- 
 duced nor exported capital of itself equal to half the amount 
 expended. It was true that some land was cultivated on 
 the further slope, some mills erected and lumber furnished 
 from the inexhaustible forest; but the consumers were the 
 inhabitants themselves, who paid for their produce in bor- 
 rowed capital or unlimited credit. It was never discovered 
 that while all roads led to Devil's Ford, Devil's Ford led 
 to nowhere. The difficulties overcome in getting things 
 into the settlement were never surmounted for getting 
 things out of it. The lumber was practically valueless 
 for export to other settlements across the mountain roads, 
 which were equally rich in timber. The theory so enthusi- 
 astically held by the original locators, that Devil's Ford 
 was a vast sink that had, through ages, exhausted and 
 absorbed the trickling wealth of the adjacent hills and 
 valleys, was suffering an ironical corroboration. 
 
 One morning it was known that work was stopped at the 
 Devil's Ford Ditch temporarily only, it was alleged, and 
 many of the old workmen simply had their labor for the 
 present transferred to excavating the river-banks, and the 
 collection of vast heaps of "pay gravel." Specimens from 
 these mounds, taken from different localities, and at differ- 
 ent levels, were sent to San Francisco for more rigid assay 
 and analysis. It was believed that this would establish 
 the fact of the permanent richness of the drifts, and not 
 only justify past expenditure, but a renewed outlay of 
 credit and capital. The suspension of engineering work 
 gave Mr. Carr an opportunity to visit San Francisco on 
 general business of the mine, which would not, however, 
 prevent him from arranging further combinations with capi- 
 tal. His two daughters accompanied him. It offered an 
 admirable opportunity for a shopping expedition, a change
 
 390 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 of scene, and a peaceful solution of their perplexing and 
 anomalous social relations with Devil's Ford. In the first 
 flush of gratitude to their father for this opportune holiday, 
 something of harmony had been restored to the family 
 circle that had of late been shaken by discord. 
 
 But their sanguine hopes of enjoyment were not entirely 
 fulfilled. Both Jessie and Christie were obliged to confess 
 to a certain disappointment in the aspect of the civilization 
 they were now reentering. They at first attributed it to 
 the change in their own habits during the last three months, 
 and their having become barbarous and countrified in their 
 seclusion. Certainly in the matter of dress they were be- 
 hind the fashions as revealed in Montgomery Street. But 
 when the brief solace afforded them by the modiste and 
 dressmaker was past, there seemed little else to be gained. 
 They missed at first, I fear, the chivalrous and loyal devo- 
 tion that had only amused them at Devil's Ford, and were 
 the more inclined, I think, to distrust the conscious and 
 more civilized gallantry of the better dressed and more care- 
 fully presented men they met. For it must be admitted 
 that, for obvious reasons, their criticisms were at first con- 
 fined to the sex they had been most in contact with. They 
 could not help noticing that the men were more eager, 
 annoyingly feverish, and self - asserting in their superior 
 elegance and external show than their old associates were 
 in their frank, unrestrained habits. It seemed to them that 
 the five millionaires of Devil's Ford, in their radical simpli- 
 city and thoroughness, were perhaps nearer the type of true 
 gentlemanhood than these citizens who imitated a civiliza- 
 tion they were unable yet to reach. 
 
 The women simply frightened them, as being, even more 
 than the men, demonstrative and excessive in their fine 
 looks, their fine dresses, their extravagant demand for 
 excitement. In less than a week they found themselves 
 regretting not the new villa on the slope of Devil's Ford,
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 391 
 
 which even in its own bizarre fashion was exceeded by the 
 barbarous ostentation of the villas and private houses around 
 them but the double cabin under the trees, which now 
 seemed to them almost aristocratic in its grave simplicity 
 and abstention. In the mysterious forest of masts that 
 thronged the city's quays they recalled the straight shafts 
 of the pines on Devil's slopes, only to miss the sedate re- 
 pose and infinite calm that used to environ them. In the 
 feverish, pulsating life of the young metropolis they often 
 stopped oppressed, giddy, and choking; the roar of the 
 streets and thoroughfares was meaningless to them, except 
 to revive strange memories of the deep, unvarying mono- 
 tone of the evening wind over their humbler roof on the 
 Sierran hillside. Civic bred and nurtured as they were, 
 the recurrence of these sensations perplexed and alarmed 
 them. 
 
 "It seems so perfectly ridiculous," said Jessie, "for us 
 to feel as out of place here as that Pike County servant 
 girl in Sacramento who had never seen a steamboat before; 
 do you know, I quite had a turn the other day at seeing 
 a man on the Stockton wharf in a red shirt, with a rifle 
 on his shoulder." 
 
 "And you wanted to go and speak to him? " said Chris- 
 tie, with a sad smile. 
 
 "No, that's just it; I felt awfully hurt and injured 
 that he did not come up and speak to me ! I wonder if 
 we got any fever or that sort of thing up there; it makes 
 one quite superstitious." 
 
 Christie did not reply; more than once before she had 
 felt that inexplicable misgiving. It had sometimes seemed 
 to her that she had never been quite herself since that 
 memorable night when she had slipped out of their sleep- 
 ing-cabin, and stood alone in the gracious and commanding 
 presence of the woods and hills. In the solitude of night, 
 with the hum of the great city rising below her at times
 
 392 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 even in theatres or crowded assemblies of men and women 
 she forgot herself, and again stood in the weird brilliancy 
 of that moonlight night in mute worship at the foot of that 
 slowly rising mystic altar of piled terraces, hanging forests, 
 and lifted plateaus that climbed forever to the lonely skies. 
 Again she felt before her the expanding and opening arms 
 of the protecting woods. Had they really closed upon her 
 in some pantheistic embrace that made her a part of them 1 
 Had she been baptized in that moonlight as a child of the 
 great forest? It was easy to believe in the myths of the 
 poets of an idyllic life under those trees, where, free from 
 conventional restrictions, one loved and was loved. If she, 
 with her own worldly experience, could think of this now, 
 why might not George Kearney have thought ? . . . She 
 stopped, and found herself blushing even in the darkness. 
 As the thought and blush were the usual sequel of her 
 reflections, it is to be feared that they may have been at 
 times the impelling cause. 
 
 Mr. Carr, however, made up for his daughters' want of 
 sympathy with metropolitan life. To their astonishment, 
 he not only plunged into the fashionable gayeties and 
 amusements of the town, but in dress and manner assumed 
 the role of a leader of society. The invariable answer to 
 their half-humorous comment was the necessities of the 
 mine, and the policy of frequenting the company of capi- 
 talists, to enlist their support and confidence. There was 
 something in this so unlike their father, that what at any 
 other time they would have hailed as a relief to his habit- 
 ual abstraction now half alarmed them. Yet he was not 
 dissipated he did not drink nor gamble. There certainly 
 did not seem any harm in his frequenting the society of 
 ladies, with a gallantry that appeared to be forced and a 
 pleasure that to their critical eyes was certainly apocryphal. 
 He did not drag his daughters into the mixed society of 
 that period; he did not press upon them the company of
 
 Devil's Ford
 
 DEVIL'S FOED 393 
 
 those he most frequented, and whose accepted position in 
 that little world of fashion was considered equal to their 
 own. When Jessie strongly objected to the pronounced 
 manners of a certain widow, whose actual present wealth 
 and pecuniary influence condoned for a more uncertain pre- 
 historic past, Mr. Carr did not urge a further acquaintance. 
 "As long as you 're not thinking of marrying again, papa," 
 Jessie had said finally, "I don't see the necessity of our 
 knowing her." "But suppose I were," had replied Mr. 
 Carr, with affected humor. "Then you certainly would n't 
 care for any one like her," his daughter had responded 
 triumphantly. Mr. Carr smiled, and dropped the sub- 
 ject, but it is probable that his daughters' want of sym- 
 pathy with his acquaintances did not in the least interfere 
 with his social prestige. A gentleman in all his relations 
 and under all circumstances, even his cold scientific abstrac- 
 tion was provocative; rich men envied his lofty ignorance 
 of the smaller details of money-making, even while they 
 mistrusted his judgment. A man still well preserved, 
 and free from weakening vices, he was a dangerous rival to 
 younger and faster San Francisco, in the eyes of the sex, who 
 knew how to value a repose they did not themselves possess. 
 
 Suddenly Mr. Carr announced his intention of proceed- 
 ing to Sacramento, on further business of the mine, leav- 
 ing his two daughters in the family of a wealthy friend 
 until he should return for them. He opposed their ready 
 suggestion to return to Devil's Ford with a new and un- 
 necessary inflexibility: he even met their compromise to 
 accompany him to Sacramento with equal decision. 
 
 "You will only be in my way," he said curtly. "Enjoy 
 yourselves here while you can." 
 
 Thus left to themselves, they tried to accept his advice. 
 Possibly some slight reaction to their previous disappoint- 
 ment may have already set in ; perhaps they felt any dis- 
 traction to be a relief to their anxiety about their father.
 
 394 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 They went out more ; they frequented concerts and parties ; 
 they accepted, with their host and his family, an invitation 
 to one of those opulent and barbaric entertainments with 
 which a noted San Francisco millionaire distracted his rare 
 moments of reflection in his gorgeous palace on the hills. 
 Here they would at least be once more in the country they 
 loved, albeit of a milder and less heroic type, and a little 
 degraded by the overlapping tinsel and scattered spangles 
 of the palace. 
 
 It was a three days' fete; the style and choice of amuse- 
 ments left to the guests, and an equal and active participa- 
 tion by no means necessary or indispensable. Consequently, 
 when Christie and Jessie Carr proposed a ride through the 
 adjacent cafion on the second morning, they had no difficulty 
 in finding horses in the well-furnished stables of their 
 opulent entertainers, nor cavaliers among the other guests, 
 who were too happy to find favor in the eyes of two pretty 
 girls who were supposed to be abnormally fastidious and 
 refined. Christie's escort was a good-natured young banker, 
 shrewd enough to avoid demonstrative attentions, and lucky 
 enough to interest her during the ride with his clear and 
 half-humorous reflections on some of the business specula- 
 tions of the day. If his ideas were occasionally too clever, 
 and not always consistent with a high sense of honor, she 
 was none the less interested to know the ethics of that world 
 of speculation into which her father had plunged, and the 
 more convinced, with a mingled sense of pride and anxiety, 
 that his still dominant gentlemanhood would prevent his 
 coping with it on equal terms. Nor could she help contrast- 
 ing the conversation of the sharp-witted man at her side 
 with what she still remembered of the vague, touching, 
 boyish enthusiasm of the millionaires of Devil's Ford. Had 
 her escort guessed the result of this contrast, he would 
 hardly have been as gratified as he was with the grave 
 attention of her beautiful eyes.
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 395 
 
 The fascination of a gracious day and the leafy solitude 
 of the canon led them to prolong their ride beyond the pro- 
 posed limit, and it became necessary towards sunset for 
 them to seek some shorter cut home. 
 
 "There's a vaquero in yonder field," said Christie's 
 escort, who was riding with her a little in advance of the 
 others, "and those fellows know every trail that a horse 
 can follow. I '11 ride on, intercept him, and try my Span- 
 ish on him. If I miss him, as he 's galloping on, you 
 might try your hand on him yourself. He '11 understand 
 your eyes, Miss Carr, in any language." 
 
 As he dashed away, to cover his first audacity of com- 
 pliment, Christie lifted the eyes thus apostrophized to the 
 opposite field. The vaquero, who was chasing some cattle, 
 was evidently too preoccupied to heed the shouts of her 
 companion, and wheeling round suddenly to intercept one 
 of the deviating fugitives, permitted Christie's escort to 
 dash past him before that gentleman could rein in his ex- 
 cited steed. This brought the vaquero directly in her path. 
 Perceiving her, he threw his horse back on its haunches, to 
 prevent a collision. Christie rode up to him, suddenly 
 uttered a cry, and halted. For before her, sunburnt in 
 cheek and throat, darker in the free growth of mustache 
 and curling hair, clad in the coarse, picturesque finery of 
 his class, undisguised only in his boyish beauty, sat George 
 Kearney. 
 
 The blood that had forsaken her astonished face rushed 
 as quickly back. His eyes, which had suddenly sparkled 
 with an electrical glow, sank before hers. His hand 
 dropped, and his cheek flushed with a dark embarrassment. 
 
 " You here, Mr. Kearney ? How strange ! but how 
 glad I am to meet you again ! " 
 
 She tried to smile; her voice trembled, and her little 
 hand shook as she extended it to him. 
 
 He raised his dark eyes quickly, and impulsively urged
 
 396 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 his horse to her side. But, as if suddenly awakening to 
 the reality of the situation, he glanced at her hurriedly, 
 down at his barbaric finery, and threw a searching look 
 towards her escort. 
 
 In an instant Christie saw the infelicity of her position, 
 and its dangers. The words of Whiskey Dick, "He 
 wouldn't stand that," flashed across her mind. There was 
 no time to lose. The banker had already gained control 
 over his horse, and was approaching them, all unconscious 
 of the fixed stare with which George was regarding him. 
 Christie hastily seized the hand which he had allowed to 
 fall at his side, and said quickly : 
 
 "Will you ride with me a little way, Mr. Kearney?" 
 
 He turned the same searching look upon her. She met 
 it clearly and steadily; he even thought reproachfully. 
 
 " Do ! " she said hurriedly. " I ask it as a favor. I 
 want to speak to you. Jessie and I are here alone. Father 
 is away. You are one of our oldest friends." 
 
 He hesitated. She turned to the astonished young 
 banker, who rode up. 
 
 "I have just met an old friend. Will you please ride 
 back as quickly as you can, and tell Jessie that Mr. Kear- 
 ney is here, and ask her to join us 1 " 
 
 She watched her dazed escort, still speechless from the 
 spectacle of the fastidious Miss Carr tete-a-tete with a com- 
 mon Mexican vaquero, gallop off in the direction of the 
 canon, and then turned to George. 
 
 "Now take me home, the shortest way, as quick as you 
 can." 
 
 " Home 1 " echoed George. 
 
 "I mean to Mr. Prince's house. Quick! before they can 
 come up to us." 
 
 He mechanically put spurs to his horse; she followed. 
 They presently struck into a trail that soon diverged again 
 into a disused logging track through the woods.
 
 DEVIL'S FOKD 397 
 
 "This is the short cut to Prince's, by two miles," he 
 said, as they entered the woods. 
 
 As they were still galloping, without exchanging a word, 
 Christie began to slacken her speed; George did the same. 
 They were safe from intrusion at the present, even if the 
 others had found the short cut. Christie, bold and self- 
 reliant a moment ago, suddenly found herself growing weak 
 and embarrassed. What had she done? 
 
 She checked her horse suddenly. 
 
 "Perhaps we had better wait for them," she said timidly. 
 
 George had not raised his eyes to hers. 
 
 "You said you wanted to hurry home," he replied 
 gently, passing his hand along his mustang's velvety neck, 
 "and and you had something to say to me." 
 
 "Certainly," she answered, with a faint laugh. "I 'm so 
 astonished at meeting you here. I 'm quite bewildered. 
 You are living here; you have forsaken us to buy a 
 ranch ? " she continued, looking at him attentively. 
 
 His brow colored slightly. 
 
 "No, I'm living here, but I have bought no ranch. 
 I 'm only a hired man on somebody else's ranch, to look 
 after the cattle." 
 
 He saw her beautiful eyes fill with astonishment and 
 something else. His brow cleared; he went on, with 
 his old boyish laugh. 
 
 "No, Miss Carr. The fact is, I 'm dead broke. I 've 
 lost everything since I saw you last. But as I know how 
 to ride, and I 'm not afraid of work, I manage to keep 
 along. " 
 
 " You have lost money in in the mines ? " said Christie 
 suddenly. 
 
 " No " he replied quickly, evading her eyes. " My 
 brother has my interest, you know. I 've been foolish on 
 my own account solely. You know I 'm rather inclined 
 to that sort of thing. But as long as my folly don't affect 
 others, I can stand it."
 
 398 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 " But it may affect others and they may not tliink of 
 it as folly " She stopped short, confused by his brighten- 
 ing color and eyes. "I mean Oh, Mr. Kearney, I want 
 you to be frank with me. I know nothing of business, 
 but I know there has been trouble about the mine at Devil's 
 Ford. Tell me honestly, has my father anything to do 
 with it? If I thought that, through any imprudence of 
 his, you had suffered if I believed that you could trace 
 any misfortune of yours to him to us I should never 
 forgive myself " she stopped and flashed a single look at 
 him "I should never forgive you for abandoning us." 
 
 The look of pain which had at first shown itself in his 
 face, which never concealed anything, passed, and a quick 
 smile followed her feminine anticlimax. 
 
 "Miss Carr," he said, with boyish eagerness, "if any 
 man suggested to me that your father was n't the brightest 
 and best of his kind too wise and clever for the fools 
 about him to understand I 'd I 'd shoot him." 
 
 Confused by his ready and gracious disclaimer of what 
 she had not intended to say, there was nothing left for her 
 but to rush upon what she really intended to say, with 
 what she felt was shameful precipitation. 
 
 "One word more, Mr. Kearney," she began, looking 
 down, but feeling the color come to her face as she spoke. 
 "When you spoke to me the day you left, you must have 
 thought me hard and cruel. When I tell you that I 
 thought you were alluding to Jessie and some feeling you 
 had for her " 
 
 "For Jessie!" echoed George. 
 
 " You will understand that that 
 
 " That what 1 " said George, drawing nearer to her. 
 
 "That I was only speaking as she might have spoken 
 had you talked to her of me," added Christie hurriedly, 
 slightly backing her horse away from him. 
 
 But this was not so easy, as George was the better rider,
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 399 
 
 and by an imperceptible movement of his wrist and foot 
 had glued his horse to her side. "He will go now," she 
 had thought, but he didn't. 
 
 "We must ride on," she suggested faintly. 
 
 "No," he said, with a sudden dropping of his boyish 
 manner and a slight lifting of his head. "We must ride 
 together no further, Miss Carr. I must go back to the 
 work I am hired to do, and you must go on with your 
 party, whom I hear coming. But when we part here you 
 must bid me good-by not as Jessie's sister but as 
 Christie the one the only woman that I love, or that 
 I ever have loved." 
 
 He held out his hand. With the recollection of their 
 previous parting, she tremblingly advanced her own. 
 He took it, but did not raise it to his lips. And it was 
 she who found herself half confusedly retaining his hand 
 in hers, until she dropped it with a blush. 
 
 "Then is this the reason you give for deserting us as 
 you have deserted Devil's Ford? " she said coldly. 
 
 He lifted his eyes to her with a strange smile, and said, 
 " Yes, " wheeled his horse, and disappeared in the forest. 
 
 He had left her thus abruptly once before, kissed, blush- 
 ing, and indignant. He was leaving her now, unkissed, 
 but white and indignant. Yet she was so self-possessed 
 when the party joined her, that the singular rencontre and 
 her explanation of the stranger's sudden departure excited 
 no further comment. Only Jessie managed to whisper in 
 her ear : 
 
 "I hope you are satisfied now that it wasn't me he 
 meant ? " 
 
 "Not at all," said Christie coldly.
 
 CHAPTER TO 
 
 A FEW days after the girls had returned to San Fran- 
 cisco they received a letter from their father. His busi- 
 ness, he wrote, would detain him in Sacramento some days 
 longer. There was no reason why they should return to 
 Devil's Ford in the heat of the summer; their host had 
 written to beg him to allow them a more extended visit, 
 and if they were enjoying themselves, he thought it would 
 be well not to disoblige an old friend. He had heard they 
 had a pleasant visit to Mr. Prince's place, and that a cer- 
 tain young banker had been very attentive to Christie. 
 
 "Do you know what all this means, dear? " asked Jes- 
 sie, who had been watching her sister with an unusually 
 grave face. 
 
 Christie, whose thoughts had wandered from the letter, 
 replied carelessly : 
 
 "I suppose it means that we are to wait here until fa- 
 ther sends for us." 
 
 " It means a good deal more. It means that papa has 
 had another reverse ; it means that the assay has turned out 
 badly for the mine that the further they go from the flat 
 the worse it gets that all the gold they will probably 
 ever see at Devil's Ford is what they have already found 
 or will find on the flat; it means that all Devil's Ford is 
 only a ' pocket, ' and not a ' lead. ' " She stopped, with 
 unexpected tears in her eyes. 
 
 "Who told you this?" asked Christie breathlessly. 
 
 "Fairfax Mr. Munroe," stammered her sister, "writes 
 to me as if we already knew it tells me not to be alarmed, 
 that it isn't so bad and all that."
 
 DEVIL'S FOKD 401 
 
 " How long has this happened, Jessie ? " said Christie, 
 taking her hand, with a white but calm face. 
 
 "Nearly ever since we've been here, I suppose. It 
 must be so, for he says poor papa is still hopeful of doing 
 something yet." 
 
 " And Mr. Munroe writes to you ? " said Christie ab- 
 stractedly. 
 
 " Of course, " said Jessie quickly. " He feels interested 
 in us." 
 
 "Nobody tells me anything," said Christie. 
 
 "Didn't" 
 
 "No," said Christie bitterly. 
 
 " What on earth did you talk about 1 But people don't 
 confide in you because they 're afraid of you. You 're 
 so" 
 
 "So what?" 
 
 "So gently patronizing, and so ' I-don't-suppose-you-can- 
 help-it, -poor- thing, ' in your general style," said Jessie, kiss- 
 ing her. " There ! I only wish I was like you. What do 
 you say if we write to father that we '11 go back to Devil's 
 Ford ? Mr. Munroe thinks we will be of service there just 
 now. If the men are dissatisfied, and think we 're spend- 
 ing money " 
 
 "I'm afraid Mr. Munroe is hardly a disinterested ad- 
 viser. At least, I don't think it would look quite decent 
 for you to fly back without your father, at his suggestion," 
 said Christie coldly. "He is not the only partner. We 're 
 spending no money. Besides, we have engaged to go to 
 Mr. Prince's again next week." 
 
 "As you like, dear," said Jessie, turning away to hide 
 a faint smile. 
 
 Nevertheless, when they returned from their visit to 
 Mr. Prince's, and one or two uneventful rides, Christie 
 looked grave. It was only a few days later that Jessie 
 burst upon her one morning.
 
 402 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 "You were saying that nobody ever tells you anything. 
 Well, here 's your chance. Whiskey Dick is below." 
 
 " Whiskey Dick ? " repeated Christie. " What does he 
 want ? 
 
 " You, love. Who else ? You know he always scorns 
 me as not being high-toned and elegant enough for his 
 social confidences. He asked for you only." 
 
 With an uneasy sense of some impending revelation, 
 Christie descended to the drawing-room. As she opened 
 the door, a strong flavor of that toilet soap and eau de Co- 
 logne with which Whiskey Dick was in the habit of grace- 
 fully effacing the traces of dissipation made known his 
 presence. In spite of a new suit of clothes, whose pristine 
 folds refused to adapt themselves entirely to the contour 
 of his figure, he was somewhat subdued by the unexpected 
 elegance of the drawing-room of Christie's host. But a 
 glance at Christie's sad, but gracious face quickly reassured 
 him. Taking from his hat a three-cornered parcel, he 
 unfolded a handsome saffrona rose, which he gravely pre- 
 sented to her. Having thus reestablished his position, he 
 sank elegantly into a tete-a-tete ottoman. Finding the 
 position inconvenient to face Christie, who had seated 
 herself on a chair, he transferred himself to the other side 
 of the ottoman, and addressed her over its back as from a 
 pulpit. 
 
 " Is this really a fortunate accident, Mr. Hall, or did you 
 try to find us 1 " said Christie pleasantly. 
 
 "Partly promiskuss, and partly coincident, Miss Chris- 
 tie, one up and t'other down," said Dick lightly. "Work 
 being slack at present at Devil's Ford I reck'ned I 'd take 
 a pasear down to 'Frisco, and dip into the vortex o' fash'na- 
 ble society and out again. " He lightly waved a new hand- 
 kerchief to illustrate his swallow-like intrusion. "This 
 yer minglin' with the bo-tong is apt to be wearisome, ez 
 you and me knows, unless combined with experience and
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 403 
 
 judgment. So when them boys up there allows that 
 there 's a little too much fash'nable society and San Fran- 
 cisco capital and highfalutin' about the future goin' on fer 
 square surface mining, I sez, ' Look yere, gentlemen, ' sez I, 
 ' you don't see the pint. The pint is, to get the pop'lar 
 eye fixed, so to speak, on Devil's Ford. When a fash'n- 
 able star rises above the 'Frisco horizon like Miss Carr 
 
 and, so to speak, dazzles the gineral eye, people want 
 to know who she is. And when people say that 's the 
 accomplished daughter o' the accomplished superintendent 
 of the Devil's Ford claim otherwise known as the Star- 
 eyed Goddess o' Devil's Ford every eye is fixed on the 
 mine, and Capital, so to speak, tumbles to her.' And 
 when they sez that the old man excuse my freedom, but 
 that 's the way the boys talk of your father, meaning no 
 harm the old man, instead o' trying to corral rich wid- 
 ders grass or otherwise to spend their money on the 
 big works for the gold that ain't there yet should stay in 
 Devil's Ford and put all his sabe and genius into grindin' 
 out the little gold that is there, I sez to them that it ain't 
 your father's style. ' His style, ' sez I, ' ez to go in and 
 build them works. ' When they 're done he turns round 
 to Capital, and sez he ' Look yer, ' sez he, ' thar 's all 
 the works you want, first quality cost a million; thar 's 
 all the water you want, onlimited cost another million; 
 thar 's all the pay gravel you want in and outer the ground 
 
 call it two millions more. Now my time 's too vally- 
 'ble; my professhun 's too high-toned to work mines. I 
 make 'em. Hand me over a check for ten millions and 
 call it square and work it for yourself. ' So Capital hands 
 over the money and waltzes down to run the mine, and 
 you original locators walks round with yer hands in yer 
 pockets atop of your six million profit, and you lets Capi- 
 tal take the work and the responsibility." 
 
 Preposterous as this seemed from the lips of Whiskey
 
 404 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 Dick, Christie had a haunting suspicion that it was not 
 greatly unlike the theories expounded by the clever young 
 banker who had been her escort. She did not interrupt 
 his flow of reminiscent criticism; when he paused for 
 breath, she said quietly : 
 
 "I met Mr. George Kearney the other day in the coun- 
 try." 
 
 Whiskey Dick stopped awkwardly, glanced hurriedly at 
 Christie, and coughed behind his handkerchief. 
 
 " Mr. Kearney eh er certengly yes er met 
 him, you say. Was he er er well ? " 
 
 "In health, yes; but otherwise he has lost everything,'' 
 said Christie, fixing her eyes on the embarrassed Dick. 
 
 " Yes er in course in course " continued Dick, 
 nervously glancing round the apartment as if endeavoring 
 to find an opening to some less abrupt statement of the fact. 
 
 " And actually reduced to take some menial employment, " 
 added Christie, still regarding Dick with her clear glance. 
 
 "That 'sit that 's just it," said Dick, beaming as he 
 suddenly found his delicate and confidential opportunity. 
 "That's it, Miss Christie; that's just what I was say in' 
 to the boys. ' Ez it the square thing, ' sez I, ' jest because 
 George hez happened to hypothecate every dollar he has, 
 or expects to hev, to put into them works, only to please 
 Mr. Carr, and just because he don't want to distress that 
 intelligent gentleman by letting him see he 's dead broke 
 for him to go and demean himself and Devil's Ford by 
 rushing away and hiring out as a Mexican vaquero on Mex- 
 ican wages 1 Look, ' sez I, ' at the disgrace he brings upon 
 a high-toned, fash'nable girl, at whose side he 's walked 
 and danced, and passed rings, and sentiments, and bokays 
 in the changes o' the cotillion and the mizzourka. And 
 wot, ' sez I, ' if some day, prancing along in a fash'nable 
 cavalcade, she all of a suddents comes across him drivin' 
 a Mexican steer 1 ' That 's what I said to the boys.
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 405 
 
 And so you met him, Miss Christie, as usual," continued 
 Dick, endeavoring under the appearance of a large social 
 experience to conceal an eager anxiety to know the details 
 "so you met him; and, in course, you didn't let on yer 
 knew him, so to speak, nat' rally, or p'r'aps you kinder like 
 asked him to fix your saddle-girth, and give him a five- 
 dollar piece eh 1 " 
 
 Christie, who had risen and gone to the window, sud- 
 denly turned a very pale face and shining eyes on Dick. 
 
 "Mr. Hall," she said, with a faint attempt at a smile, 
 " we are old friends, and I feel I can ask you a favor. You 
 once before acted as our escort it was for a short but a 
 happy time will you accept a larger trust 1 My father is 
 busy in Sacramento for the mine: will you, without saying 
 anything to anybody, take Jessie and me back at once to 
 Devil's Ford?" 
 
 "Will I? Miss Christie," said Dick, choking between 
 an intense gratification and a desire to keep back its vulgar 
 exhibition, " I shall be proud ! " 
 
 "When I say keep it a secret" she hesitated "I 
 don't mean that I object to your letting Mr. Kearney, if 
 you happen to know where he is, understand that we are 
 going back to Devil's Ford." 
 
 "Cert'nly nat'rally," said Dick, waving his hand 
 gracefully ; " sorter drop him a line, saying that bizness of 
 a social and delicate nature being the escort of Miss 
 Christie and Jessie Carr to Devil's Ford prevents my 
 having the pleasure of calling." 
 
 "That will do very well, Mr. Hall," said Christie, 
 faintly smiling through her moist eyelashes. " Then will 
 you go at once and secure tickets for to-night's boat, and 
 bring them here? Jessie and I will arrange everything 
 else." 
 
 "Cert'nly," said Dick impulsively, and preparing to 
 take a graceful leave.
 
 406 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 "We '11 be impatient until you return with the tickets," 
 said Christie graciously. 
 
 Dick shook hands gravely, got as far as the door, and 
 paused. 
 
 " You think it better to take the tickets now ? " he said 
 dubiously. 
 
 "By all means," said Christie impetuously. "I've set 
 my heart on going to-night and unless you secure berths 
 early " 
 
 "In course in course," interrupted Dick nervously. 
 "But" 
 
 "But what? " said Christie impatiently. 
 
 Dick hesitated, shut the door carefully, and looking 
 round the room, lightly shook out his handkerchief, appar- 
 ently flicked away an embarrassing suggestion, and said, with 
 a little laugh : 
 
 "It 's ridiklous, perfectly ridiklous, Miss Christie; but 
 not bein' in the habit of carryin' ready money, and havin' 
 omitted to cash a draft on Wells, Fargo & Co. " 
 
 "Of course," said Christie rapidly. "How forgetful I 
 am ! Pray forgive me, Mr. Hall. I did n't think. I '11 
 run up and get it from our host; he will be glad to be our 
 banker." 
 
 "One moment, Miss Christie," said Dick lightly, as his 
 thumb and finger relaxed in his waistcoat pocket over the 
 only piece of money in the world that had remained to him 
 after his extravagant purchase of Christie's saffrona rose, 
 "one moment: in this yer monetary transaction, if you 
 like, you are at liberty to use my name."
 
 CHAPTER VIH 
 
 As Christie and Jessie Carr looked from the windows of 
 the coach, whose dust-clogged wheels were slowly dragging 
 them, as if reluctant, nearer the last stage of their journey 
 to Devil's Ford, they were conscious of a change in the 
 landscape, which they could not entirely charge upon their 
 changed feelings. The few bared open spaces on the up- 
 land, the long stretch of rocky ridge near the summit, so 
 vivid and so velvety during their first journey, were now 
 burnt and yellow; even the brief openings in the forest 
 were seared as if by a hot iron in the scorching rays of a 
 half year's sun. The pastoral slopes of the valley below 
 were cloaked in lustreless leather: the rare watercourses 
 along the road had faded from the waiting eye and ear; it 
 seemed as if the long and dry summer had even invaded 
 the close-set ranks of pines, and had blown a simoom breath 
 through the densest woods, leaving its charred red ashes 
 on every leaf and spray along the tunneled shade. As 
 they leaned out of the window and inhaled the half-dead 
 spices of the evergreens, they seemed to have entered the 
 atmosphere of some exhausted passion of some fierce 
 excitement that was even now slowly burning itself out. 
 
 It was a relief at last to see the straggling houses of 
 Devil's Ford far below come once more into view, as they 
 rounded the shoulder of Devil's Spur and began the long 
 descent. But as they entered the town a change more 
 ominous and startling than the desiccation of the landscape 
 forced itself upon them. The town was still there, but 
 where were the inhabitants? Four months ago they had
 
 408 DEVIL'S FOED 
 
 left the straggling street thronged with busy citizens 
 groups at every corner, and a chaos of merchandise and trad- 
 ers in the open plaza or square beside the Presbyterian 
 church. Now, all was changed. Only a few wayfarers 
 lifted their heads lazily as the coach rattled by, crossing the 
 deserted square littered with empty boxes, and gliding past 
 empty cabins or vacant shop windows, from which not 
 only familiar faces, but even the window-sashes themselves, 
 were gone. The great unfinished serpent - like flume, 
 crossing the river on gigantic trestles, had advanced as far 
 as the town, stooping over it like some enormous reptile 
 that had sucked its life-blood and was gorged with its prey. 
 
 Whiskey Dick, who had left the stage on the summit to 
 avail himself of a shorter foot trail to the house, that 
 would give him half an hour's grace to make preparations, 
 met them at the stage office with a buggy. A glance at 
 the young girls, perhaps, convinced him that the graces of 
 elegant worldly conversation were out of place with the 
 revelation he read on their faces. Perhaps he, too, was a 
 trifle indisposed. The short journey to the house was 
 made in profound silence. 
 
 The villa had been repainted and decorated, and it 
 looked fresher, and even, to their preoccupied minds, ap- 
 peared more attractive than ever. Thoughtful hands had 
 taken care of the vines and rose-bushes on the trellises; 
 water that precious element in Devil's Ford had not 
 been spared in keeping green through the long drought the 
 plants which the girls had so tenderly nurtured. It was 
 the one oasis in which the summer still lingered; and yet 
 a singular sense of loss came over the girls as they once 
 more crossed its threshold. It seemed no longer their own. 
 
 "Ef I was you, Miss Christie, I 'd keep close to the house 
 for a day or two, until until things is settled, " said 
 Dick; "there's a heap o' tramps and sich cattle traipsin' 
 round. P'r'aps you wouldn't feel so lonesome if you
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 409 
 
 was nearer town for instance, 'bout wher' you useter 
 live." 
 
 "In the dear old cabin," said Christie quickly; "I re- 
 member it; I wish we were there now." 
 
 " Do you really 1 Do you ? " said Whiskey Dick, with 
 suddenly twinkling eyes. "That's like you to say it. 
 That 's what I allus said," continued Dick, addressing space 
 generally; "if there's any one ez knows how to come 
 square down to the bottom.rock without flinchin', it 's your 
 high-toned, fash'nable gals. But I must meander back to 
 town, and let the boys know you 're in possession, safe and 
 sound. It 's right mean that Fairfax and Mattingly had to 
 go down to La Grange on some low business yesterday, 
 but they '11 be back to-morrow. So long." 
 
 Left alone, the girls began to realize their strange posi- 
 tion. They had conceived no settled plan. The night 
 they left San Francisco they had written an earnest letter 
 to their father, telling him that on learning the truth about 
 the reverses of Devil's Ford, they thought it their duty to 
 return and share them with others, without obliging him 
 to prefer the request, and with as little worry to him as 
 possible. He would find them ready to share his trials, 
 and in what must be the scene of their work hereafter. 
 
 "It will bring father back," said Christie; "he won't 
 leave us here alone; and then together we must come to 
 some understanding with him with them for somehow 
 I feel as if this house belonged to us no longer." 
 
 Her surmise was not far wrong. When Mr. Carr arrived 
 hurriedly from Sacramento the next evening, he found the 
 house deserted. His daughters were gone; there were 
 indications that they had arrived, and, for some reason, 
 suddenly departed. The vague fear that had haunted his 
 guilty soul after receiving their letter, and during his 
 breathless journey, now seemed to be realized. He was 
 turning from the empty house, whose reproachful solitude
 
 410 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 frightened him, when he was confronted on the threshold 
 by the figure of Fairfax Munroe. 
 
 "I came to the stage office to meet you," he said; "you 
 must have left the stage at the summit." 
 
 "I did," said Carr angrily. "I was anxious to meet my 
 daughters quickly, to know the reason of their foolish alarm, 
 and to know also who had been frightening them. Where 
 are they ? " 
 
 "They are safe in the old cabin beyond, that has been 
 put up ready to receive them again," said Fairfax quietly. 
 
 " But what is the meaning of this ? Why are they not 
 here 1 " demanded Carr, hiding his agitation in a burst of 
 querulous rage. 
 
 "Do you ask, Mr. Carr?" said Fairfax sadly. "Did 
 you expect them to remain here \mtil the sheriff took pos- 
 session? No one knows better than yourself that the 
 money advanced you on the deeds of this homestead has 
 never been repaid." 
 
 Carr staggered, but recovered himself with feeble vio- 
 lence. 
 
 "Since you know so much of my affairs, how do you 
 know that this claim will ever be pressed for payment? 
 How do you know it is not the advance of a a friend 1 " 
 
 "Because I have seen the woman who advanced it," 
 said Fairfax hopelessly. "She was here to look at the 
 property before your daughters came." 
 
 "Well?" said Carr nervously. 
 
 "Well! You force me to tell you something I should 
 like to forget. You force me to anticipate a disclosure I 
 expected to make to you only when I came to ask permis- 
 sion to woo your daughter Jessie; and when I tell you 
 what it is, you will understand that I have no right to 
 criticise your conduct. I am only explaining my own." 
 
 "Go on," said Carr impatiently. 
 
 "When I first came to this country, there was a woman
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 411 
 
 I loved passionately. She treated me as women of her 
 kind only treat men like me, she ruined me, and left me. 
 That was four years ago. I love your daughter, Mr. Carr, 
 but she has never heard it from my lips. I would not 
 woo her until I had told you all. I have tried to do it 
 ere this, and failed. Perhaps I should not now, but " 
 
 "But what? " said Carr furiously; "speak out! " 
 
 " But this. Look ! " said Fairfax, producing from his 
 pocket the packet of letters Jessie had found; "perhaps 
 you know the handwriting 1 " 
 
 " What do you mean 1 " gasped Carr. 
 
 "That woman my mistress is the woman who ad- 
 vanced you money, and who claims this house." 
 
 The interview, and whatever came of it, remained a 
 secret with the two men. When Mr. Carr accepted the 
 hospitality of the old cabin again, it was understood that he 
 had sacrificed the new house and its furniture to some of 
 the more pressing debts of the mine, and the act went far 
 to restore his waning popularity. But a more genuine 
 feeling of relief was experienced by Devil's Ford when it 
 was rumored that Fairfax Munroe had asked for the hand 
 of Jessie Carr, and that some promise, contingent upon the 
 equitable adjustment of the affairs of the mine, had been 
 given by Mr. Carr. To the superstitious mind of Devil's 
 Ford and its few remaining locators, this new partnership 
 seemed to promise that unity of interest and stability of 
 fortune that Devil's Ford had lacked. But nothing could 
 be done until the rainy season had set fairly in; until the 
 long-looked-for element that was to magically separate the 
 gold from the dross in those dull mounds of dust and gravel 
 had come of its own free will, and in its own appointed chan- 
 nels, independent of the feeble auxiliaries that had hope- 
 lessly riven the rocks on the hillside, or hung incomplete 
 and unfinished in lofty scaffoldings above the settlement.
 
 412 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 The rainy season came early. At first in gathered mists 
 on the higher peaks that were lifted in the morning sun 
 only to show a fresher field of dazzling white below; in 
 white clouds that at first seemed to be mere drifts blown 
 across from those fresh snow-fields, and obscuring the clear 
 blue above; in far-off murmurs in the hollow hills and 
 gulches; in nearer tinkling melody and baby prattling in 
 the leaves. It came with bright flashes of sunlight by day, 
 with deep, monotonous shadow at night; with the onset of 
 heavy winds, the roar of turbulent woods, the tumultuous 
 tossing of leafy arms, and with what seemed the silent 
 dissolution of the whole landscape in days of steady and 
 uninterrupted downfall. It came extravagantly, for every 
 canon had grown into a torrent, every gulch a waterspout, 
 every watercourse a river, and all pouring into the Xortli 
 Fork, that, rushing past the settlement, seemed to threaten 
 it with lifted crest and flying mane. It came dangerously, 
 for one night the river, leaping the feeble barrier of Devil's 
 Ford, swept away houses and banks, scattered with uncon- 
 scious irony the laboriously collected heaps of gravel left for 
 hydraulic machinery, and spread out a vast and silent lake 
 across the submerged flat. 
 
 In the hurry and confusion of that night, the girls had 
 thrown open their cabin to the escaping miners, who hur- 
 ried along the slope that was now the bank of the river. 
 Suddenly Christie felt her arm grasped, and she was half 
 led, half dragged, into the inner room. Her father stood 
 before her. 
 
 " Where is George Kearney 1 " he asked tremulously. 
 
 " George Kearney ! " echoed Christie, for a moment 
 believing the excitement had turned her father's brain. 
 "You know he is not here; he is in San Francisco." 
 
 "He is here I tell you," said Carr impatiently; "he 
 has been here ever since the high water, trying to save the 
 flume and reservoir."
 
 DEVIL'S FOED 413 
 
 "George here! " Christie could only gasp. 
 
 "Yes! He passed here a few moments ago, to see if 
 you were all safe, and he has gone on towards the flume. 
 But what he is trying to do is madness. If you see him, 
 implore him to do no more. Let him abandon the accursed 
 flume to its fate. It has worked already too much woe 
 upon us all; why should it carry his hrave and youthful 
 soul down with it 1 " 
 
 The words were still ringing in her ears, when he sud- 
 denly passed away, with the hurrying crowd. Scarcely 
 knowing what she did, she ran out, vaguely intent only on 
 one thought, seeking only the one face, lately so dear in 
 recollection that she felt she would die if she never saw it 
 again. Perplexed by confused voices in the woods, she 
 lost track of the crowd, until the voices suddenly were raised 
 in one loud outcry, followed by the crashing of timber, the 
 splashing of water, a silence, and then a dull, continuous 
 roar. She ran vaguely on in the direction of the reservoir, 
 with her father's injunction still in her mind, until a ter- 
 rible idea displaced it, and she turned at right angles sud- 
 denly, and ran towards the slope leading down to the sub- 
 merged flat. She had barely left the shelter of the trees 
 behind her before the roar of water seemed to rise at her 
 very feet. She stopped, dazed, bewildered, and horror- 
 stricken, on the edge of the slope. It was the slope no 
 longer, but the bank of the river itself! 
 
 Even in the gray light of early morning, and with inex- 
 perienced eyes, she saw all too clearly now. The trestle- 
 work had given way ; the curving mile of flume, fallen into 
 the stream, and crushed and dammed against the opposite 
 shore, had absolutely turned the whole river through the 
 half-finished ditch and partly excavated mine in its way, a 
 few rods further on to join the old familiar channel. The 
 bank of the river was changed; the flat had become an 
 island, between which and the slope where she stood the
 
 414 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 North Fork was rolling its resistless yellow torrent. As 
 she gazed spellbound, a portion of the slope beneath her 
 suddenly seemed to sink and crumble, and was swallowed 
 up in the rushing stream. She heard a cry of warning 
 behind her, but, rooted to the spot by a fearful fascination, 
 she heeded it not. Again there was a sudden disruption, 
 and another part of the slope sank to rise no more ; but this 
 time she felt herself seized by the waist and dragged back. 
 It was her father standing by her side. 
 
 He was flushed and excited, gazing at the water with 
 a strange exultation. 
 
 " Do you see it 1 Do you know what has happened 1 " 
 he asked quickly. 
 
 " The flume has fallen and turned the river, " said Chris- 
 tie hurriedly. " But have you seen him is he safe ? " 
 
 " He who ? " he answered vacantly. 
 
 " George Kearney ! " 
 
 "He is safe," he said impatiently. "But, do you see, 
 Christie ? Do you know what this means ? " 
 
 He pointed with his tremulous hand to the stream before 
 them. 
 
 " It means we are ruined, " said Christie coldly. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind! It means that the river is doing 
 the work of the flume. It is sluicing off the gravel, deep- 
 ening the ditch, and altering the slope which was the old 
 bend of the river. It will do in ten minutes the work that 
 would take us a year. If we can stop it in time, or control 
 it, we are safe; but if we cannot, it will carry away the 
 bed and deposit with the rest, and we are ruined again." 
 
 With a gesture of impotent fury, he dashed away in the 
 direction of an equally excited crowd, that on a point of 
 the slope nearer the island were gesticulating and shouting 
 to a second group of men, who on the opposite shore were 
 clambering on over the choked de'bris of the flume that had 
 dammed and diverted the current. It was evident that the
 
 DEVIL'S FORD 415 
 
 same idea had occurred to them, and they were risking 
 their lives in the attempt to set free the impediments. 
 Shocked and indignant as Christie had been at the degrad- 
 ing absorption of material interests at such a moment, the 
 element of danger lifted the labors of -these men into hero- 
 ism, and she began to feel a strange exultation as she 
 watched them. Under the skillful blows of their axes, in 
 a few moments the vast body of drift began to disintegrate, 
 and then to swing round and move towards the old chan- 
 nel. A cheer went up, but as suddenly died away again. 
 An overlapping fringe of wreckage had caught on the point 
 of the island and arrested the whole mass. 
 
 The men, who had gained the shore with difficulty, 
 looked back with a cry of despair. But the next moment 
 from among them leaped a figure, alert, buoyant, invincible, 
 and, axe in hand, once more essayed the passage. Spring- 
 ing from timber to timber he at last reached the point of 
 obstruction. A few strokes of the axe were sufficient to 
 clear it; but at the first stroke it was apparent that the 
 striker was also losing his hold upon the shore, and that 
 he must inevitably be carried away with the tossing debris. 
 But this consideration did not seem to affect him; the last 
 blow was struck, and as the freed timbers rolled on, over 
 and over, he boldly plunged into the flood. Christie gave 
 a little cry her heart had bounded with him ; it seemed 
 as if his plunge had splashed the water in her eyes. He 
 did not come to the surface until he had passed the point 
 below where her father stood, and then struggling feebly, 
 as if stunned or disabled by a blow. It seemed to her that 
 he was trying to approach the side of the river where she 
 was. Would he do it 1 Could she help him ? She was alone ; 
 he was hidden from the view of the men on the point, 
 and no succor could come from them. There was a fringe 
 of alder nearly opposite their cabin that almost overhung 
 the stream. She ran to it, clutched it with a frantic hand,
 
 416 DEVIL'S FORD 
 
 and leaning over the boiling water, uttered for the first 
 time his name. 
 
 "George!" 
 
 As if called to the surface by the magic of her voice, he 
 rose a few yards from her in mid-current, and turned his 
 fading eyes towards the bank. In another moment he 
 would have been swept beyond her reach, but with a su- 
 preme effort he turned on one side; the current, striking 
 him sideways, threw him towards the bank, and she caught 
 him by his sleeve. For an instant it seemed as if she 
 would be dragged down with him. For one dangerous 
 moment she did not care, and almost yielded to the spell; 
 but as the rush of water pressed him against the bank, she 
 recovered herself, and managed to lift him beyond its reach. 
 And then she sat down, half fainting, with his white face 
 and damp curls upon her breast. 
 
 " George, darling, speak to me ! Only one word ! Tell 
 me, have I saved you 1 " 
 
 His eyes opened. A faint twinkle of the old days came 
 to them a boyish smile played upon his lips. 
 
 " For yourself or Jessie 1 " 
 
 She looked around her with a little frightened air. 
 They were alone. There was but one way of sealing those 
 mischievous lips, and she found it! 
 
 "That's what I allus said, gentlemen," lazily remarked 
 Whiskey Dick, a few weeks later, leaning back against the 
 bar, with his glass in his hand. " ' George, ' sez I, ' it ain't 
 what you say to a fash'nable, high-toned young lady; it 's 
 what you does ez makes or breaks you.' And that 's what 
 I sez gin 'rally o' things in the Ford. It ain't what Carr 
 and you boys allows to do; it's the gin'ral average o' 
 things ez iz done that gives tone to the hull, and hez 
 brought this yer new luck to you all ! "
 
 A SECEET OF TELEGEAPH HILL 
 
 As Mr. Herbert Ely glanced for the first time at the 
 house which was to be his future abode in San Francisco 
 he was somewhat startled. In that early period of feverish 
 civic improvement the street before it had been repeatedly 
 graded and lowered until the dwelling originally a pioneer 
 suburban villa perched upon a slope of Telegraph Hill 
 now stood sixty feet above the sidewalk, superposed like 
 some Swiss chalet on successive galleries built in the sand- 
 hill, and connected by a half-dozen distinct zigzag flights of 
 wooden staircase. Stimulated, however, by the thought 
 that the view from the top would be a fine one, and that 
 existence there would have all the quaint originality of 
 Eobinson Crusoe's tree-dwelling, Mr. Ely began cheer- 
 fully to mount the steps. It should be premised that, al- 
 though a recently appointed clerk in a large banking house, 
 Mr. Ely was somewhat youthful and imaginative, and 
 regarded the ascent as part of that " Excelsior " climbing 
 pointed out by a great poet as a praiseworthy function of 
 ambitious youth. 
 
 Eeaching at last the level of the veranda, he turned to 
 the view. The distant wooded shore of Contra Costa, the 
 tossing whitecaps and dancing sails of the bay between, and 
 the foreground at his feet of wharves and piers, with their 
 reedlike jungles of masts and cordage, made up a bright, if 
 somewhat material, picture. To his right rose the crest of 
 the hill, historic and memorable as the site of the old sem- 
 aphoric telegraph, the tossing of whose gaunt arms formerly
 
 418 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 thrilled the citizens with tidings from the sea. Turning 
 to the house, he recognized the prevailing style of light 
 cottage architecture, although incongruously confined to 
 narrow building plots and the civic regularity of a precise 
 street frontage. Thus a dozen other villas, formerly scat- 
 tered over the slope, had been laboriously displaced and 
 moved to the rigorous parade line drawn by the street sur- 
 veyor, no matter how irregular and independent their de- 
 sign and structure. Happily, the few scrub-oaks and low 
 bushes which formed the scant vegetation of this vast sand- 
 dune offered no obstacle and suggested no incongruity. 
 Beside the house before which Mr. Bly now stood, a prolific 
 madeira vine, quickened by the six months' sunshine, had 
 alone survived the displacement of its foundations, and in 
 its untrimmed luxuriance half hid the upper veranda from 
 his view. 
 
 Still glowing with his exertion, the young man rang the 
 bell and was admitted into a fair-sized drawing-room, 
 whose tasteful and well-arranged furniture at once prepos- 
 sessed him. An open piano, a sheet of music carelessly 
 left on the stool, a novel lying face downwards on the table 
 beside a skein of silk, and the distant rustle of a vanished 
 skirt through an inner door, gave a suggestion of refined 
 domesticity to the room that touched the fancy of the 
 homeless and nomadic Bly. He was still enjoying, in half 
 embarrassment, that vague and indescribable atmosphere of 
 a refined woman's habitual presence, when the door opened 
 and the mistress of the house formally presented herself. 
 
 She was a faded but still handsome woman. Yet she 
 wore that peculiar long, limp, formless house shawl which 
 in certain phases of Anglo-Saxon spinster and widowhood 
 assumes the functions of the recluse's veil and announces 
 the renunciation of worldly vanities and a resigned indiffer- 
 ence to external feminine contour. The most audacious 
 masculine arm would shrink from clasping that shapeless
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 419 
 
 void in which the flatness of asceticism or the heavings of 
 passion might alike lie buried. She had also in some mys- 
 terious way imported into the fresh and pleasant room a 
 certain bombaziny shadow of the past, and a suggestion 
 of that appalling reminiscence known as "better days." 
 Though why it should be always represented by ashen 
 memories, or why better days in the past should be sup- 
 posed to fix their fitting symbol in depression in the pre- 
 sent, Mr. Bly was too young and too preoccupied at the 
 moment to determine. N He only knew that he was a little 
 frightened of her, and fixed his gaze with a hopeless fasci- 
 nation on a letter which she somewhat portentously carried 
 under the shawl, and which seemed already to have yel- 
 lowed in its arctic shade. 
 
 "Mr. Carstone has written to me that you would call," 
 said Mrs. Brooks, with languid formality. "Mr. Carstone 
 was a valued friend of my late husband, and I suppose has 
 told you the circumstances the only circumstances 
 which admit of my entertaining his proposition of taking 
 anybody, even temporarily, under my roof. The absence 
 of my dear son for six months at Portland, Oregon, enables 
 me to place his room at the disposal of Mr. Carstone's 
 young protege, who, Mr. Carstone tells me, and I have 
 every reason to believe, is, if perhaps not so seriously in- 
 clined nor yet a church communicant, still of a character and 
 reputation not unworthy to follow my dear Tappington in 
 our little family circle as he has at his desk in the bank." 
 
 The sensitive Bly, struggling painfully out of an abstrac- 
 tion as to how he was ever to offer the Aveekly rent of his 
 lodgings to such a remote and respectable person, and also 
 somewhat embarrassed at being appealed to in the third 
 person, here started and bowed. 
 
 "The name of Bly is not unfamiliar to me," continued 
 Mrs. Brooks, pointing to a chair and sinking resignedly 
 into another, where her baleful sha^srl at once assumed the
 
 420 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 appearance of a dust-cover; "some of my dearest friends 
 were intimate with the Blys of Philadelphia. They were 
 a branch of the Maryland Blys of the eastern shore, one of 
 whom my Uncle James married. Perhaps you are dis- 
 tantly related 1 " 
 
 Mrs. Brooks was perfectly aware that her visitor was of 
 unknown Western origin, and a poor hut clever protegd of 
 the rich hanker; but she was one of a certain class of 
 American women who, in the midst of a fierce democracy, 
 are more or less catlike conservators of family pride and 
 lineage, and more or less felinely inconsistent and treach- 
 erous to republican principles. Bly, who had just settled 
 in his mind to send her the rent anonymously as a weekly 
 valentine recovered himself and his spirits in his usual 
 boyish fashion. 
 
 "lam afraid, Mrs. Brooks, "he said gayly, "I cannot lay 
 claim to any distinguished relationship, even to that ' Nelly 
 Bly ' who, you remember, ' winked her eye when she went 
 to sleep. ' " He stopped in consternation. The terrible 
 conviction flashed upon him that this quotation from a 
 popular negro-minstrel song could not possibly be remem- 
 bered by a lady as refined as his hostess, or even known to 
 her superior son. The conviction was intensified by Mrs. 
 Brooks rising with a smileless face, slightly shedding the 
 possible vulgarity with a shake of her shawl, and remarking 
 that she would show him her son's room, led the way 
 upstairs to the apartment recently vacated by the perfect 
 Tappington. 
 
 Preceded by the same distant flutter of unseen skirts in 
 the passage which he had first noticed on entering the draw- 
 ing-room, and which evidently did not proceed from his 
 companion, whose self-composed cerements would have re- 
 pressed any such indecorous agitation, Mr. Bly stepped 
 timidly into the room. It was a very pretty apartment, 
 suggesting the same touches of tasteful refinement in its
 
 A SECKET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 421 
 
 furniture and appointments, and withal so feminine in its 
 neatness and regularity, that, conscious of his frontier 
 habits and experience, he felt at once repulsively incongru- 
 ous. "I cannot expect, Mr. Ely," said Mrs. Brooks re- 
 signedly, "that you can share my son's extreme sensitive- 
 ness to disorder and irregularity; hut I must heg you to 
 avoid as much as possible disturbing the arrangement of the 
 bookshelves, which, you observe, comprise his books of 
 serious reference, the Biblical commentaries, and the ser- 
 mons which were his habitual study. I must beg you to 
 exercise the same care in reference to the valuable offerings 
 from his Sabbath-school scholars which are upon the man- 
 tel. The embroidered book-marker, the gift of the young 
 ladies of his Bible class in Dr. Stout's church, is also, you 
 perceive, kept for ornament and affectionate remembrance. 
 The harmonium even if you are not yourself given to 
 sacred song I trust you will not find in your way, nor 
 object to my daughter continuing her practice during your 
 daily absence. Thank you. The door you are looking at 
 leads by a flight of steps to the side street." 
 
 "A very convenient arrangement," said Bly hopefully, 
 who saw a chance for an occasional unostentatious escape 
 from a too protracted contemplation of Tappington's per- 
 fections. "I mean," he added hurriedly, "to avoid dis- 
 turbing you at night." 
 
 "I believe my son had neither the necessity nor desire to 
 use it for that purpose," returned Mrs. Brooks severely; 
 "although he found it sometimes a convenient short cut to 
 church on Sabbath when he was late." 
 
 Bly, who in his boyish sensitiveness to external impres- 
 sions had by this time concluded that a life divided be- 
 tween the past perfections of Tappington and the present 
 renunciations of Mrs. Brooks would be intolerable, and was 
 again abstractedly inventing some delicate excuse for with- 
 drawing without committing himself further, was here sud-
 
 422 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 denly attracted by a repetition of the rustling of the unseen 
 skirt. This time it was nearer, and this time it seemed to 
 strike even Mrs. Brooks's remote preoccupation. "My 
 daughter, who is deeply devoted to her brother," she said, 
 slightly raising her voice, "will take upon herself the care 
 of looking after Tappington's precious mementos, and spare 
 you the trouble. Cherry, dear! this way. This is the 
 young gentleman spoken of by Mr. Carstone, your papa's 
 friend. My daughter Cherubina, Mr. Ely." 
 
 The fair owner of the rustling skirt, which turned out to 
 be a pretty French print, had appeared at the doorway. 
 She was a tall, slim blonde, with a shy, startled manner, 
 as of a penitent nun Avho was suffering for some conventual 
 transgression a resemblance that was heightened by her 
 short-cut hair, that might have been cropped as if for pun- 
 ishment. A certain likeness to her mother suggested that 
 she was qualifying for that saint's ascetic shawl sub- 
 ject, however, to rebellious intervals, indicated in the oc- 
 casional sidelong fires of her gray eyes. Yet the vague 
 impression that she knew more of the world than her 
 mother, and that she did not look at all as if her name 
 was Cherubina, struck Ely in the same momentary glance. 
 
 " Mr. Ely is naturally pleased with what he has seen of 
 our dear Tappington's appointments; and as I gather from 
 Mr. Carstone's letter that he is anxious to enter at once 
 and make the most of the dear boy's absence, you will see, 
 my dear Cherry, that Ellen has everything ready for him 1 " 
 
 Before the unfortunate Bly could explain or protest the 
 young girl lifted her gray eyes to his. Whether she had 
 perceived and understood his perplexity he could not tell; 
 but the swift shy glance was at once appealing, assuring, 
 and intelligent. She was certainly unlike her mother and 
 brother. Acting with his usual impulsiveness, he forgot 
 his previous resolution, and before he left had engaged to 
 begin his occupation of the room on the following day.
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 423 
 
 The next afternoon found him installed. Yet, after he 
 had unpacked his modest possessions and put them away, 
 after he had placed his few books on the shelves, where 
 they looked glaringly trivial and frivolous beside the late 
 tenant's severe studies; after he had set out his scanty 
 treasures in the way of photographs and some curious me- 
 mentos of his wandering life, and then quickly put them 
 back again with a sudden angry pride at exposing them to 
 the unsympathetic incongruity of the other ornaments, he, 
 nevertheless, felt ill at ease. He glanced in vain around 
 the pretty room. It was not the delicately flowered wall- 
 paper; it was not the white and blue muslin window-cur- 
 tains gracefully tied up with blue and white ribbons ; it was 
 not the spotless bed, with its blue and white festooned 
 mosquito-net and flounced valances, and its medallion por- 
 trait of an unknown bishop at the back ; it was not the few 
 tastefully framed engravings of certain cardinal virtues, 
 "The Eock of Ages," and "The Guardian Angel;" it was 
 not the casts in relief of "Night" and "Morning;" it 
 was certainly not the cosy dimity-covered armchairs and 
 sofa, nor yet the clean-swept polished grate with its cheer- 
 ful fire sparkling against the chill afternoon sea-fogs with- 
 out; neither was it the mere feminine suggestion, for that 
 touched a sympathetic chord in his impulsive nature; nor 
 the religious and ascetic influence, for he had occupied a 
 monastic cell in a school of the padres at an old mission, 
 and slept profoundly ; it was none of those, and yet a 
 part of all. Most habitations retain a cast or shell of their 
 previous tenant that, fitting tightly or loosely, is still able 
 to adjust itself to the newcomer; in most occupied apart- 
 ments there is still a shadowy suggestion of the owner's in- 
 dividuality; there was nothing here that fitted Ely nor 
 was there either, strange to say, any evidence of the past 
 proprietor in this inhospitality of sensation. It did not 
 strike him at the time that it was this very lack of indi-
 
 424 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 viduality which made it weird and unreal, that it was 
 strange only because it was artificial, and that a real Tap- 
 pington had never inhabited it. 
 
 He walked to the window that never-failing resource 
 of the unquiet mind and looked out. He was a little 
 surprised to find, that, owing to the grading of the house, 
 the scrub-oaks and bushes of the hill were nearly on the 
 level of his window, as also was the adjoining side street 
 on which his second door actually gave. Opening this, 
 the sudden invasion of the sea-fog and the figure of a pe- 
 destrian casually passing along the disused and abandoned 
 pavement not a dozen feet from where he had been com- 
 fortably seated, presented such a striking contrast to the 
 studious quiet and cosiness of his secluded apartment that 
 he hurriedly closed the door again with a sense of indis- 
 creet exposure. Eeturning to the window, he glanced to 
 the left, and found that he was overlooked by the side 
 veranda of another villa in the rear, evidently on its Avay 
 to take position on the line of the street. Although in 
 actual and deliberate transit on rollers across the back yard 
 and still occulting a part of the view, it remained, after 
 the reckless fashion of the period, inhabited. Certainly, 
 with a door fronting a thoroughfare, and a neighbor grad- 
 ually approaching him, he would not feel lonely or lack 
 excitement. 
 
 He drew his armchair to the fire and tried to realize 
 the all-pervading yet evasive Tappington. There was no 
 portrait of him in the house, and although Mrs. Brooks 
 had said that he " favored " his sister, Ely had, without 
 knowing why, instinctively resented it. He had even 
 timidly asked his employer, and had received the vague 
 reply that he was "good looking enough," and the practi- 
 cal but discomposing retort, "What do you want to know 
 for 1 " As he really did not know why, the inquiry had 
 dropped. He stared at the monumental crystal inkstand
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 425 
 
 half full of ink, yet spotless and free from stains, that 
 stood on the table, and tried to picture Tappington daintily 
 dipping into it to thank the fair donors "daughters of 
 Eebecca. " Who were they ? and what sort of man would 
 they naturally feel grateful to ? 
 
 What was that 1 
 
 He turned to the window, which had just resounded to 
 a slight tap or blow, as if something soft had struck it. 
 With an instinctive suspicion of the propinquity of the ad- 
 joining street he rose, but a single glance from the window 
 satisfied him that no missile would have reached it from 
 thence. He scanned the low bushes on the level before 
 him; certainly no one could be hiding there. He lifted 
 his eyes toward the house on the left; the curtains of the 
 nearest window appeared to be drawn suddenly at the same 
 moment. Could it have come from there ? Looking down 
 upon the window-ledge, there lay the mysterious missile 
 a little misshapen ball. He opened the window and took 
 it up. It was a small handkerchief tied into a soft knot, 
 and dampened with water to give it the necessary weight 
 as a projectile. 
 
 Was it apparently the trick of a mischievous child ? or 
 
 But here a faint knock on the door leading into the hall 
 checked his inquiry. He opened it sharply in his excite- 
 ment, and was embarrassed to find the daughter of his 
 hostess standing there, shy, startled, and evidently equally 
 embarrassed by his abrupt response. 
 
 " Mother only wanted me to ask you if Ellen had put 
 everything to rights," she said, making a step backwards. 
 
 "Oh, thank you. Perfectly," said Herbert, with effu- 
 sion. " Nothing could be better done. In fact " 
 
 "You 're quite sure she hasn't forgotten anything? or 
 that there isn't anything you would like changed?" she 
 continued, with her eyes leveled on the floor. 
 
 "Nothing, I assure you," he said, looking at her down-
 
 426 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 cast lashes. As she still remained motionless, he continued 
 cheerfully, " Would you would you care to look round 
 and see?" 
 
 "No; I thank you." 
 
 There was an awkward pause. He still continued to 
 hold the door open. Suddenly she moved forward with a 
 schoolgirl stride, entered the room, and going to the har- 
 monium, sat down upon the music-stool beside it, slightly 
 bending forward, with one long, slim, white hand on top 
 of the other, resting over her crossed knees. 
 
 Herbert was a little puzzled. It was the awkward and 
 brusque act of a very young person, and yet nothing now 
 could be more gentle and self-composed than her figure 
 and attitude. 
 
 "Yes," he continued, smilingly; "I am only afraid 
 that I may not be able to live quite up to the neatness and 
 regularity of the example I find here everywhere. You 
 know I am dreadfully careless and not at all orderly. I 
 shudder to think what may happen; but you and your 
 mother, Miss Brooks, I trust, will make up your minds to 
 overlook and forgive a good deal. I shall do my best to 
 be worthy of Mr. Tap of my predecessor but even then 
 I am afraid you '11 find me a great bother." 
 
 She raised her shy eyelids. The faintest ghost of a long- 
 buried dimple came into her pale cheek as she said softly, 
 to his utter consternation : 
 
 "Eats!" 
 
 Had she uttered an oath he could not have been more 
 startled than he was by this choice gem of Western saloon- 
 slang from the pure lips of this Evangeline - like figure 
 before him. He sat gazing at her with a wild hysteric 
 desire to laugh. She lifted her eyes again, swept him 
 with a slightly terrified glance, and said : 
 
 "Tap says you all say that when any one makes-believe 
 politeness to you."
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 427 
 
 " Oh, your brother says that, does he ? " said Herbert, 
 laughing. 
 
 "Yes, and sometimes ' Old rats.' But," she continued 
 hurriedly, "he doesn't say it; he says you all do. My 
 brother is very particular, and very good. Dr. Stout loves 
 him. He is thought very much of in all Christian circles. 
 That bookmark was given to him by one of his classes." 
 
 Every trace of her dimples had vanished. She looked 
 so sweetly grave, and withal so maidenly, sitting there 
 slightly smoothing the lengths of her pink fingers, that 
 Herbert was somewhat embarrassed. 
 
 "But I assure you, Miss Brooks, I was not making- 
 believe. I am really very careless, and everything is so 
 proper I mean so neat and pretty here, that I " 
 he stopped, and observing the same backward wandering 
 of her eye as of a filly about to shy, quickly changed the 
 subject. "You have, or are about to have, neighbors?" 
 he said, glancing towards the windows as he recalled the 
 incident of a moment before. 
 
 "Yes; and they're not at all nice people. They are 
 from Pike County, and very queer. They came across the 
 plains in '50. They say ' Stranger; ' the men are vulgar, 
 and the girls very forward. Tap forbids my ever going to 
 the window and looking at them. They 're quite what 
 you would call ' off color. ' " 
 
 Herbert, who did not dare to say that he never would 
 have dreamed of using such an expression in any young 
 girl's presence, was plunged in silent consternation. 
 
 " Then your brother does n't approve of them 1 " he said, 
 at last, awkwardly. 
 
 "Oh, not at all. He even talked of having ground 
 glass put in all these windows, only it would make the 
 light bad." 
 
 Herbert felt very embarrassed. If the mysterious missile 
 came from these objectionable young persons, it was evi-
 
 428 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 dently because they thought they had detected a more ac- 
 cessible and sympathizing individual in the stranger who 
 now occupied the room. He concluded he had better not 
 say anything about it. 
 
 Miss Brooks 's golden eyelashes were bent towards the 
 floor. " Do you play sacred music, Mr. Ely ? " she said, 
 without raising them. 
 
 "I am afraid not." 
 
 "Perhaps you know only negro-minstrel songs?" 
 
 "I am afraid yes." 
 
 "I know one." The dimples faintly came back again. 
 "It 's called < The Ham-fat Man. ' Some day when mother 
 isn't in I '11 play it for you." 
 
 Then the dimples fled again, and she immediately looked 
 so distressed that Herbert came to her assistance. 
 
 " I suppose your brother taught you that too ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! " she returned, with her frightened 
 glance; "I only heard him say some people preferred that 
 kind of thing to sacred music, and one day I saw a copy 
 of it in a music-store window in Clay Street, and bought 
 it. Oh no! Tappington didn't teach it to me." 
 
 In the pleasant discovery that she was at times indepen- 
 dent of her brother's perfections, Herbert smiled, and sym- 
 pathetically drew a step nearer to her. She rose at once, 
 somewhat primly holding back the sides of her skirt, 
 schoolgirl fashion, with thumb and finger, and her eyes cast 
 down. 
 
 "Good-afternoon, Mr. Ely." 
 
 " Must you go 1 Good-afternoon. " 
 
 She walked directly to the open door, looking very tall 
 and stately as she did so, but without turning towards him. 
 When she reached it she lifted her eyes; there was the 
 slightest suggestion of a return of her dimples in the re- 
 laxation of her grave little mouth. Then she said, " Good- 
 by, Mr. Ely," and departed.
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGEAPH HILL 429 
 
 The skirt of her dress rustled for an instant in the pas- 
 sage. Herbert looked after her. " I wonder if she skipped 
 then she looks like a girl that might skip at such a time," 
 he said to himself. " How very odd she is and how 
 simple ! But I must pull her up in that slang when I know 
 her better. Fancy her brother telling her that ! What a 
 pair they must be ! " Nevertheless, when he turned back 
 into the room again he forbore going to the window to in- 
 dulge further curiosity in regard to his wicked neighbors. A 
 certain new feeling of respect to his late companion and 
 possibly to himself held him in check. Much as he 
 resented Tappington's perfections, he resented quite as 
 warmly the presumption that he was not quite as perfect, 
 which was implied in that mysterious overture. He 
 glanced at the stool on which she had been sitting with a 
 half -brotherly smile, and put it reverently on one side with 
 a very vivid recollection of her shy maidenly figure. In 
 some mysterious way too the room seemed to have lost its 
 formal strangeness; perhaps it was the touch of individual- 
 ity hers that had been wanting ? He began thought- 
 fully to dress himself for his regular dinner at the Poodle 
 Dog Restaurant, and when he left the room he turned 
 back to look once more at the stool where she had sat. 
 Even on his way to that fast and famous cafe of the period, 
 he felt, for the first time in his thoughtless but lonely life, 
 the gentle security of the home he had left behind him. 
 
 II 
 
 It was three or four days before he became firmly ad- 
 justed to his new quarters. During this time he had met 
 Cherry casually on the staircase, in going or coming, and 
 received her shy greetings; but she had not repeated her 
 visit, nor again alluded to it. He had spent part of a for- 
 mal evening in the parlor in company with a calling deacon, 
 who, unappalled by the Indian shawl for which the widow
 
 430 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 had exchanged her household cerements on such occasions, 
 appeared to Herbert to have remote matrimonial designs, as 
 far at least as a sympathetic deprecation of the vanities of 
 the present, an echoing of her sighs like a modest encore, a 
 preternatural gentility of manner, a vague allusion to the 
 necessity of bearing "one another's burdens," and an 
 everlasting " promise " in store, would seem to imply. To 
 Herbert's vivid imagination, a discussion on the doctrinal 
 points of last Sabbath's sermon was fraught with delicate 
 suggestion ; and an acceptance by the widow of an appoint- 
 ment to attend the Wednesday evening " Lectures " had all 
 the shy reluctant yielding of a granted rendezvous. Oddly 
 enough, the more formal attitude seemed to be reserved 
 for the young people, who, in the suggestive atmosphere of 
 this spiritual flirtation, alone appeared to preserve the pro- 
 prieties, and, to some extent, decorously chaperon their 
 elders. Herbert gravely turned the leaves of Cherry's 
 music while she played and sang one or two discreet but 
 depressing songs expressive of her unalterable but proper 
 devotion to her mother's clock, her father's armchair, 
 and her aunt's Bible; and Herbert joined somewhat boy- 
 ishly in the soul-subduing refrain. Only once he ventured 
 to suggest in a whisper that he would like to add her music- 
 stool to the adorable inventory; but he was met by such a 
 disturbed and terrified look that he desisted. "Another 
 night of this wild and reckless dissipation will finish me," 
 he said lugubriously to himself when he reached the soli- 
 tude of his room. "I wonder how many times a week I 'd 
 have to help the girl play the spiritual gooseberry down- 
 stairs before we could have any fun ourselves 1 " 
 
 Here the sound of distant laughter, interspersed with 
 vivacious feminine shrieks, came through the open window. 
 He glanced between the curtains. His neighbor's house 
 was brilliantly lit, and the shadows of a few romping fig- 
 ures were chasing each other across the muslin shades of
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 431 
 
 the windows. The objectionable young women were evi- 
 dently enjoying themselves. In some conditions of the 
 mind there is a certain exasperation in the spectacle of un- 
 meaning enjoyment, and he shut the window sharply. At 
 the same moment some one knocked at his door. 
 
 It was Miss Brooks, who had just come upstairs. 
 
 " Will you please let me have my music-stool ? " 
 
 He stared at her a moment in surprise, then recovering 
 himself, said, "Yes, certainly, " and brought the stool. For 
 an instant he was tempted to ask why she wanted it, but 
 his pride forbade him. 
 
 " Thank you. Good-night. " 
 
 "Good-night!" 
 
 "I hope it was n't in your way ? " 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 "Good-night!" 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 She vanished. Herbert was perplexed. Between young 
 ladies whose na'ive exuberance impelled them to throw hand- 
 kerchiefs at this- window and young ladies whose equally 
 na'ive modesty demanded the withdrawal from his bed- 
 room of a chair on which they had once sat, his lot seemed 
 to have fallen in a troubled locality. Yet a day or two 
 later he heard Cherry practicing on the harmonium as he 
 was ascending the stairs on his return from business; she 
 had departed before he entered the room, but had left the 
 music-stool behind her. It was not again removed. 
 
 One Sunday, the second or third of his tenancy, when 
 Cherry and her mother were at church, and he had finished 
 some work that he had brought from the bank, his former 
 restlessness and sense of strangeness returned. The regu- 
 lar afternoon fog had thickened early, and driving him back 
 from a cheerless, chilly ramble on the hill, had left him 
 still more depressed and solitary. In sheer desperation he 
 moved some of the furniture, and changed the disposition
 
 432 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 of several smaller ornaments. Growing bolder, he even 
 attacked the sacred shelf devoted to Tappington's serious 
 literature and moral studies. At first glance the book of 
 sermons looked suspiciously fresh and new for a volume of 
 habitual reference, but its leaves were carefully cut, and 
 contained one or two bookmarks. It was only another 
 evidence of that perfect youth's care and neatness. As he 
 was replacing it he noticed a small object folded in white 
 paper at the back of the shelf. To put the book back into 
 its former position it was necessary to take this out. He 
 did so, but its contents slid from his fingers and the paper 
 to the floor. To his utter consternation, looking down he 
 saw a pack of playing-cards strewn at his feet I 
 
 He hurriedly picked them up. They were worn and 
 slippery from use, and exhaled a faint odor of tobacco. 
 Had they been left there by some temporary visitor un- 
 known to Tappington and his family, or had they been 
 hastily hidden by a servant ? Yet they were of a make 
 and texture superior to those that a servant would possess; 
 looking at them carefully, he recognized them to be of a 
 quality used by the better-class gamblers. Eestoring them 
 carefully to their former position, he was tempted to take 
 out the other volumes, and was rewarded with the further 
 discovery of a small box of ivory counters, known as 
 "poker-chips." It was really very extraordinary ! It was 
 quite the cache of some habitual gambler. Herbert smiled 
 grimly at the irreverent incongruity of the hiding-place 
 selected by its unknown and mysterious owner, and amused 
 himself by fancying the horror of his sainted predecessor had 
 Tie made the discovery. He determined to replace them, 
 and to put some mark upon the volumes before them in order 
 to detect any future disturbance of them in his absence. 
 
 Ought he not to take Miss Brooks in his confidence? 
 Or should he say nothing about it at present, and trust to 
 chance to discover the sacrilegious hider ? Could it pos-
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 433 
 
 sibly be Cherry herself, guilty of the same innocent curios- 
 ity that had impelled her to buy the "Ham-fat Man"? 
 Preposterous! Besides, the cards had been used, and she 
 could not play poker alone ! 
 
 He watched the rolling fog extinguish the line of Bus- 
 sian Hill, the last bit of far perspective from his window. 
 He glanced at his neighbor's veranda, already dripping 
 with moisture; the windows were blank; he remembered 
 to have heard the girls giggling in passing down the side 
 street on their way to church, and had noticed from be- 
 hind his own curtains that one was rather pretty. This 
 led him to think of Cherry again, and to recall the quaint 
 yet melancholy grace of her figure as she sat on the stool 
 opposite. Why had she withdrawn it so abruptly ; did 
 she consider his jesting allusion to it indecorous and pre- 
 suming? Had he really meant it seriously; and was he 
 beginning to think too much about her? Would she ever 
 come again ? How nice it would be if she returned from 
 church alone early, and they could have a comfortable chat 
 together here ! Would she sing the "Ham-fat Man" for 
 him ? Would the dimples come back if she did ? Should 
 he ever know more of this quaint repressed side of her na- 
 ture ? After all, what a dear, graceful, tantalizing, lovable 
 creature she was ! Ought he not at all hazards try to know 
 her better? Might it not be here that he would find a 
 perfect realization of his boyish dreams, and in her all that 
 what nonsense he was thinking! 
 
 Suddenly Herbert was startled by the sound of a light 
 but hurried foot upon the wooden outer step of his second 
 door, and the quick but ineffective turning of the door- 
 handle. He started to his feet, his mind still filled with a 
 vision of Cherry. Then he as suddenly remembered that 
 he had. locked the door on going out, putting the key in 
 his overcoat pocket. He had returned by the front door, 
 and his overcoat was now hanging in the lower hall.
 
 434 A SECEET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 The door again rattled impetuously. Then it was sup- 
 plemented by a female voice in a hurried whisper: "Open 
 quick, can't you? do hurry!" 
 
 He was confounded. The voice was authoritative, not 
 unmusical; but it was not Cherry's. Nevertheless he 
 called out quickly, " One moment, please, and I '11 get the 
 key ! " dashed downstairs and up again, breathlessly un- 
 locked the door and threw it open. 
 
 Nobody was there! 
 
 He ran out into the street. On one side it terminated 
 abruptly on the cliff on which his dwelling was perched; 
 on the other, it descended more gradually into the next 
 thoroughfare; but up and down the street, on either hand, 
 no one was to be seen. A slightly superstitious feeling for 
 an instant crept over him. Then he reflected that the 
 mysterious visitor could in the interval of his getting the 
 key have easily slipped down the steps of the cliff or en- 
 tered the shrubbery of one of the adjacent houses. But 
 why had she not waited? And what did she want? As 
 he reentered his door he mechanically raised his eyes to the 
 windows of his neighbor's. This time he certainly was 
 not mistaken. The two amused, mischievous faces that 
 suddenly disappeared behind the curtain as he looked up 
 showed that the incident had not been unwitnessed. Yet 
 it was impossible that it could have been either of them. 
 Their house was only accessible by a long detour. It might 
 have been the trick of a confederate; but the tone of half 
 familiarity and half entreaty in the unseen visitor's voice 
 dispelled the idea of any collusion. He entered the room 
 and closed the door angrily. A grim smile stole over his 
 face as he glanced around at the dainty saintlike appoint- 
 ments of the absent Tappington, and thought what that ir- 
 reproachable young man would have said to the indecorous 
 intrusion, even though it had been a mistake. Would those 
 shameless Pike County girls have dared to laugh at him ?
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 435 
 
 But he was again puzzled to know why he himself 
 should have been selected for this singular experience. 
 Why was he considered fair game for these girls ? And, 
 for the matter of that, now that he reflected upon it, why 
 had even this gentle, refined, and melancholy Cherry 
 thought it necessary to talk slang to him on their first ac- 
 quaintance, and offer to sing him the "Ham-fat Man"? 
 It was true he had been a little gay, but never dissipated. 
 Of course he was not a saint, like Tappington oh, that 
 was it! He believed he understood it now. He was 
 suffering from that extravagant conception of what worldli- 
 ness consists of, so common to very good people with no 
 knowledge of the world. Compared to Tappington he was 
 in their eyes, of course, a rake and a roue'. The explana- 
 tion pleased him. He would not keep it to himself. He 
 would gain Cherry's confidence and enlist her sympathies. 
 Her gentle nature would revolt at this injustice to their 
 lonely lodger. She would see that there were degrees of 
 goodness besides her brother's. She would perhaps sit on 
 that stool again and not sing the "Ham-fat Man." 
 
 A day or two afterwards the opportunity seemed offered 
 to him. As he was coming home and ascending the long 
 hilly street, his eye was taken by a tall graceful figure just 
 preceding him. It was she. He had never before seen 
 her in the street and was now struck with her ladylike 
 bearing and the grave superiority of her perfectly simple 
 attire. In a thoroughfare haunted by handsome women 
 and striking toilets, the refined grace of her mourning 
 costume, and a certain stateliness that gave her the look 
 of a young widow, was a contrast that evidently attracted 
 others than himself. It was with an odd mingling of 
 pride and jealousy that he watched the admiring yet re- 
 spectful glances of the passers-by, some of whom turned to 
 look again, and one or two to retrace their steps and follow 
 her at a decorous distance. This caused him to quicken
 
 436 A SECRET OF TELEGEAPH HILL 
 
 his own pace, with a new anxiety and a remorseful sense of 
 wasted opportunity. What a booby he had been, not to 
 have made more of his contiguity to this charming girl to 
 have been frightened at the na'ive decorum of her maid- 
 enly instincts! He reached her side, and raised his hat 
 with a trepidation at her new-found graces with a bold- 
 ness that was defiant of her other admirers. She blushed 
 slightly. 
 
 "I thought you 'd overtake me before," she said naively, 
 "/saw you ever so long ago." 
 
 He stammered, with an equal simplicity, that he had 
 not dared to. 
 
 She looked a little frightened again, and then said hur- 
 riedly : " I only thought that I would meet you on Mont- 
 gomery Street, and we would walk home together. I don't 
 like to go out alone, and mother cannot always go with me. 
 Tappington never cared to take me out I don't know 
 why. I think he didn't like the people staring and stop- 
 ping us. But they stare more don't you think ? when 
 one is alone. So I thought if you were coming straight 
 home we might come together unless you have something 
 else to do 1 " 
 
 Herbert impulsively reiterated his joy at meeting her, 
 and averred that no other engagement, either of business or 
 pleasure, could or would stand in his way. Looking up, 
 however, it was with some consternation that he saw they 
 were already within a block of the house. 
 
 "Suppose we take a turn around the hill and come back 
 by the old street down the steps ? " he suggested earnestly. 
 
 The next moment he regretted it. The frightened look 
 returned to her eyes; her face became melancholy and 
 formal again. 
 
 " No ! " she said quickly. " That would be taking a 
 walk with you like these young girls and their young men 
 on Saturdays. That 's what Ellen does with the butcher's
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 437 
 
 boy on Sundays. Tappington often used to meet them. 
 Doing the ' Come, Philanders,' as he says you call it." 
 
 It struck Herbert that the didactic Tappington's method 
 of inculcating a horror of slang in his sister's breast was 
 open to some objection; but they were already on the 
 steps of their house, and he was too much mortified at the 
 reception of his last unhappy suggestion to make the con- 
 fidential disclosure he had intended, even if there had still 
 been time. 
 
 "There's mother waiting for me," she said, after an 
 awkward pause, pointing to the figure of Mrs. Brooks dimly 
 outlined on the veranda. "I suppose she was beginning 
 to be worried about my being out alone. She '11 be so glad 
 I met you." It did n't appear to Herbert, however, that 
 Mrs. Brooks exhibited any extravagant joy over the occur- 
 rence, and she almost instantly retired with her daughter 
 into the sitting-room, linking her arm in Cherry's, and, 
 as it were, empanoplying her with her own invulnerable 
 shawl. Herbert went to his room more dissatisfied with 
 himself than ever. 
 
 Two or three days elapsed without his seeing Cherry; 
 even the well-known rustle of her skirt in the passage was 
 missing. On the third evening he resolved to bear the 
 formal terrors of the drawing-room again, and stumbled 
 upon a decorous party consisting of Mrs. Brooks, the dea- 
 con, and the pastor's wife but not Cherry. It struck 
 him on entering that the momentary awkwardness of the 
 company and the formal beginning of a new topic indicated 
 that he had been the subject of their previous conversation. 
 In this idea he continued, through that vague spirit of op- 
 position which attacks impulsive people in such circum- 
 stances, to generally disagree with them on all subjects, 
 and to exaggerate what he chose to believe they thought 
 objectionable in him. He did not remain long; but learned 
 in that brief interval that Cherry had gone to visit a friend
 
 438 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 in Contra Costa, and would be absent a fortnight; and he 
 was conscious that the information was conveyed to him 
 with a peculiar significance. 
 
 The result of which was only to intensify his interest in 
 the absent Cherry, and for a week to plunge him in a sea 
 of conflicting doubts and resolutions. At one time he 
 thought seriously of demanding an explanation from Mrs. 
 Brooks, and of confiding to her as he had intended to 
 do to Cherry his fears that his character had been misin- 
 terpreted, and his reasons for believing so. But here he 
 was met by the difficulty of formulating what he wished to 
 have explained, and some doubts as to whether his confi- 
 dences were prudent. At another time he contemplated a 
 serious imitation of Tappington's perfections, a renunciation 
 of the world, and an entire change in his habits. He 
 would go regularly to church her church, and take up 
 Tappington's desolate Bible class. But here the torturing 
 doubt arose whether a young lady who betrayed a certain 
 secular curiosity, and who had evidently depended upon 
 her brother for a knowledge of the world, would entirely 
 like it. At times he thought of giving up the room and 
 abandoning forever this doubly dangerous proximity ; but 
 here again he was deterred by the difficulty of giving a 
 satisfactory reason to his employer, who had procured it as 
 a favor. His passion for such he began to fear it to be 
 led him once to the extravagance of asking a day's holi- 
 day from the bank, which he vaguely spent in the streets 
 of Oakland in the hope of accidentally meeting the exiled 
 Cherry. 
 
 m 
 
 The fortnight slowly passed. She returned, but he did 
 not see her. She was always out or engaged in her room 
 with some female friend when Herbert was at home. This 
 was singular, as she had never appeared to him as a young
 
 A SECKET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 439 
 
 girl who was fond of visiting or had ever affected female 
 friendships. In fact, there was little doubt now that, 
 wittingly or unwittingly, she was avoiding him. 
 
 He was moodily sitting by the fire one evening, having 
 returned early from dinner. In reply to his habitual but 
 affectedly careless inquiry, Ellen had told him that Mrs. 
 Brooks was confined to her room by a slight headache, 
 and that Miss Brooks was out. He was trying to read, 
 and listening to the wind that occasionally rattled the case- 
 ment and caxjsed the solitary gas-lamp that was visible in 
 the side street to flicker and leap wildly. Suddenly he 
 heard the same footfall upon his outer step and a light tap 
 at the door. Determined this time to solve the mystery, 
 he sprang to his feet and ran to the door; but to his anger 
 and astonishment it was locked and the key was gone. 
 Yet he was positive that he had not taken it out. 
 
 The tap was timidly repeated. In desperation he called 
 out, "Please don't go away yet. The key is gone; but 
 I'll find it in a moment." Nevertheless he was at his 
 wits' end. 
 
 There was a hesitating pause and then the sound of a 
 key cautiously thrust into the lock. It turned; the door 
 opened, and a tall figure, whose face and form were com- 
 pletely hidden in a veil and long gray shawl, quickly glided 
 into the room and closed the door behind it. Then it sud- 
 denly raised its arms, the shawl was parted, the veil fell 
 aside, and Cherry stood before him! 
 
 Her face was quite pale. Her eyes, usually downcast, 
 frightened, or coldly clear, were bright and beautiful with 
 excitement. The dimples were faintly there, although the 
 smile was sad and half hysterical. She remained standing, 
 erect and tall, her arms dropped at her side, holding the 
 veil and shawl that still depended from her shoulders. 
 
 "So I've caught you!" she said, with a strange 
 little laugh. " Oh yes. ' Please don't go away yet. I '11
 
 440 A SECEET OF TELEGKAPH HILL 
 
 get the key in a moment, ' " she continued, mimicking his 
 recent utterance. 
 
 He could only stammer, "Miss Brooks then it was 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes; and you thought it was she, didn't you? Well, 
 and you're caught! I didn't believe it; I wouldn't be- 
 lieve it when they said it. I determined to find it out 
 myself. And I have; and it 's true." 
 
 Unable to determine whether she was serious or jesting, 
 and conscious only of his delight at seeing^ her again, he 
 advanced impulsively. But her expression instantly 
 changed: she became at once stiff and schoolgirlishly 
 formal, and stepped back towards the door. 
 
 "Don't come near me, or I '11 go," she said quickly, with 
 her hand upon the lock. 
 
 "But not before you tell me what you mean," he said, 
 half laughingly, half earnestly. "Who is she? and what 
 wouldn't you have believed? For upon my honor, Miss 
 Brooks, I don't know what you are talking about." 
 
 His evident frankness and truthful manner appeared to 
 puzzle her. "You mean to say you were expecting no 
 one ? " she said sharply. 
 
 "I assure you I was not." 
 
 " And and no woman was ever here at that door ? " 
 
 He hesitated. "Not to-night not for a long time; 
 not since you returned from Oakland." 
 
 " Then there was one ? " 
 
 "I believe so." 
 
 " You believe you don't know ? " 
 
 "I believed it was a woman from her voice; for the door 
 was locked, and the key was downstairs. When I fetched it 
 and opened the door, she or whoever it was was gone." 
 
 "And that's why you said so imploringly, just now, 
 'Please don't go away yet ' ? You see, I 've caught you. 
 Ah! I don't wonder you blush! "
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 441 
 
 If he had, his cheeks had caught fire from her brilliant 
 eyes and the extravagantly affected sternness as of a 
 schoolgirl monitor in her animated face. Certainly he 
 had never seen such a transformation. 
 
 "Yes; but, you see, I wanted to know who the intruder 
 was," he said, smiling at his own embarrassment. 
 
 "You did well, perhaps that will tell you? It was 
 found under your door before I went away." She sud- 
 denly produced from her pocket a folded paper and handed 
 it to him. It was a misspelt scrawl, and ran as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 " Why are you so cruel ? Why do you keep me dansing 
 on the stepps before them gurls at the windows? Was it 
 that stuck-up Saint, Miss Brooks, that you were afraid of, 
 my deer? Oh, you faithless trater! Wait till I ketch 
 you ! I '11 tear your eyes out and hern! " 
 
 It did not require great penetration for Herbert to be 
 instantly convinced that the writer of this vulgar epistle 
 and the owner of the unknown voice were two very differ- 
 ent individuals. The note was evidently a trick. A sus- 
 picion of its perpetrators flashed upon him. 
 
 " Whoever the woman was, it was not she who wrote the 
 note, " he said positively. " Somebody must have seen her 
 at the door. I remember now that those girls your 
 neighbors were watching me from their window when 
 I came out. Depend upon it, that letter comes from 
 them." 
 
 Cherry's eyes opened widely with a sudden childlike 
 perception, and then shyly dropped. "Yes," she said 
 slowly, "they did watch you. They know it, for it was 
 they who made it the talk of the neighborhood, and that's 
 how it came to mother's ears." She stopped, and with 
 a frightened look, stepped back towards the door again. 
 
 "Then that was why your mother" 
 
 " Oh yes," interrupted Cherry quickly. " That was why
 
 442 A SECKET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 I went over to Oakland, and why mother forbade my walk- 
 ing with you again, and why she had a talk with friends 
 about your conduct, and why she came near telling Mr. 
 Carstone all about it until I stopped her." She checked 
 herself he could hardly believe his eyes the pale, nun- 
 like girl was absolutely blushing. 
 
 "I thank you, Miss Brooks," he said gravely, "for your 
 thoughtfulness, although I hope I could have still proven 
 my innocence to Mr. Carstone, even if some unknown 
 woman tried my door by mistake, and was seen doing it. 
 But I am pained to think that you could have believed me 
 capable of so wanton and absurd an impropriety and such 
 a gross disrespect to your mother's house." 
 
 "But," said Cherry, with childlike naivete, "you know 
 you don't think anything of such things, and that 's what 
 I told mother." 
 
 " You told your mother that ? " 
 
 "Oh yes I told her Tappington says it's quite com- 
 mon with young men. Please don't laugh for it 's very 
 dreadful. Tappington didn't laugh when he told it to me 
 as a warning. He was shocked." 
 
 " But, my dear Miss Brooks " 
 
 " There now you 're angry and that 's as bad. Are 
 you sure you didn't know that woman? " 
 
 "Positive!" 
 
 " Yet you seemed very anxious just now that she should 
 wait till you opened the door." 
 
 "That was perfectly natural." 
 
 "I don't think it was natural at all." 
 
 " But according to Tappington " 
 
 "Because my brother is very good you need not make 
 fun of him." 
 
 " I assure you I have no such intention. But what more 
 can I say 1 I give you my word that I don't know who 
 that unlucky woman was. No doubt she may have been
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 443 
 
 some nearsighted neighbor who had mistaken the house, 
 and I dare say was as thoroughly astonished at my voice as 
 I was at hers. Can I say more ? Is it necessary for me 
 to swear that since I have been here no woman has ever 
 entered that door but " 
 
 "But who?" 
 
 "Yourself." 
 
 "I know what you mean," she said hurriedly, with her 
 old frightened look, gliding to the outer door. " It 'a 
 shameful what I 've done. But I only did it because 
 because I had faith in you, and did n't believe what they 
 said was true." She had already turned the lock. There 
 were tears in her pretty eyes. 
 
 "Stop," said Herbert gently. He walked slowly 
 towards her, and within reach of her frightened figure 
 stopped with the timid respect of a mature and genuine 
 passion. "You must not be seen going out of that door," 
 he said gravely. "You must let me go first, and when 
 I am gone, lock the door again and go through the hall to 
 your own room. No one must know that I was in the 
 house when you came in at that door. Good-night." 
 
 Without offering his hand he lifted his eyes to her face. 
 The dimples were all there and something else. He 
 bowed and passed out. 
 
 Ten minutes later he ostentatiously returned to the house 
 by the front door, and proceeded up the stairs to his own 
 room. As he cast a glance around he saw that the music- 
 stool had been moved before the fire, evidently with the 
 view of attracting his attention. Lying upon it, carefully 
 folded, was the veil that she had worn. There could be 
 no doubt that it was left there purposely. With a smile 
 at this strange girl's last characteristic act of timid but com- 
 promising recklessness, after all his precautions, he raised 
 it tenderly to his lips, and then hastened to hide it from 
 the reach of vulgar eyes. But had Cherry known that its
 
 444 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 temporary resting-place that night was under his pillow she 
 might have doubted his superior caution. 
 
 When he returned from the bank the next afternoon, 
 Cherry rapped ostentatiously at his door. " Mother wishes 
 me to ask you," she began, with a certain prim formality, 
 which nevertheless did not preclude dimples, " if you would 
 give us the pleasure of your company at our Church Festi- 
 val to-night 1 There will be a concert and a collation. You 
 could accompany us there if you cared. Our friends and 
 Tappington's would be so glad to see you, and Dr. Stout 
 would be delighted to make your acquaintance." 
 
 " Certainly ! " said Herbert, delighted and yet astounded. 
 "Then," he added in a lower voice, "your mother no longer 
 believes me so dreadfully culpable 1 " 
 
 "Oh no," said Cherry in a hurried whisper, glancing up 
 and down the passage; "I 've been talking to her about it, 
 and she is satisfied that it is all a jealous trick and slander 
 of these neighbors. Why, I told her that they had" even 
 said that I was that mysterious woman ; that I came that 
 way to you because she had forbidden my seeing you 
 openly. " 
 
 " What ! You dared say that ? " 
 
 "Yes; don't you see? Suppose they said they had 
 seen me coming in last night that answers it, " she said 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "Oh, it does?" he said vacantly. 
 
 "Perfectly. Sc you see she 's convinced that she ought 
 to put you on the same footing as Tappington, before every- 
 body; and then there won't be any trouble. You '11 come, 
 won't you? It won't be so very good. And then, I 've 
 told mother that as there have been so many street-fights, 
 and so much talk about the Vigilance Committee lately, I 
 ought to have somebody for an escort when I am coming 
 home. And if you 're known, you see, as one of us, there '11 
 be no harm in you 're meeting me."
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 445 
 
 "Thank you," he said, extending his hand gratefully. 
 
 Her fingers rested a moment in his. "Where did you 
 put it ? " she said demurely. 
 
 "It? Oh! it's all safe," he said quickly, but some- 
 what vaguely. 
 
 "But I don't call the upper drawer of your bureau 
 safe," she returned poutingly, "where everybody can go. 
 So you '11 find it now inside the harmonium, on the key- 
 board." 
 
 "Oh, thank you." 
 
 "It 's quite natural to have left it there accidentally 
 isn't it? " she said imploringly, assisted by all her dimples. 
 Alas, she had forgotten that he was still holding her hand. 
 Consequently, she had not time to snatch it away and van- 
 ish, with a stifled little cry, before it had been pressed two 
 or three times to his lips. A little ashamed of his own 
 boldness, Herbert remained for a few moments in the door- 
 way listening, and looking uneasily down the dark passage. 
 Presently a slight so.und came over the fanlight of Cherry's 
 room. Could he believe his ears ? The saintlike Cherry 
 no doubt tutored, for example's sake, by the perfect 
 Tappington was softly whistling. 
 
 In this simple fashion the first pages of this little idyl 
 were quietly turned. The book might have been closed or 
 laid aside even then. But it so chanced that Cherry was 
 an unconscious prophet; and presently it actually became a 
 prudential necessity for her to have a masculine escort 
 when she walked out. For a growing state of lawlessness 
 and crime culminated one day the deep tocsin of the Vigi- 
 lance Committee, and at its stroke fifty thousand peaceful 
 men, reverting to the first principles of social safety, sprang 
 to arms, assembled at their quarters, or patrolled the streets. 
 In another hour the city of San Francisco was in the hands 
 of a mob the most peaceful, orderly, well organized, and 
 temperate the world had ever known, and yet in concep-
 
 446 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 tion as lawless, autocratic, and imperious as the conditions 
 it opposed. 
 
 IV 
 
 Herbert, enrolled in the same section with his em- 
 ployer and one or two fellow clerks, had participated in 
 the meetings of the committee with the light heartedness 
 and irresponsibility of youth, regretting only the loss of his 
 usual walk with Cherry and the hours that kept him from 
 her house. He was returning from a protracted meeting 
 one night, when the number of arrests and searching for 
 proscribed and suspected characters had been so large as to 
 induce fears of organized resistance and rescue, and on 
 reaching the foot of the hill found it already so late, that to 
 avoid disturbing the family he resolved to enter his room 
 directly by the door in the side street. On inserting his 
 key in the lock it met with some resisting obstacle, which, 
 however, yielded and apparently dropped on the mat in- 
 side. Opening the door and stepping into the perfectly 
 dark apartment, he trod upon this object, which proved to 
 be another key. The family must have procured it for 
 their convenience during his absence, and after locking the 
 door had carelessly left it in the lock. It was lucky that 
 it had yielded so readily. 
 
 The fire had gone out. He closed the door and lit the 
 gas, and after taking off his overcoat moved to the door 
 leading into the passage to listen if anybody was still stir- 
 ring. To his utter astonishment he found it locked. What 
 was more remarkable the key was also inside! An 
 inexplicable feeling took possession of him. He glanced 
 suddenly around the room, and then his eye fell upon the 
 bed. Lying there, stretched at full length, was the recum- 
 bent figure of a man. 
 
 He was apparently in the profound sleep of utter exhaus- 
 tion. The attitude of his limbs and the order of his dress 
 of which only his collar and cravat had been loosened
 
 A SECEET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 447 
 
 showed that sleep must have overtaken him almost in- 
 stantly. In fact, the bed was scarcely disturbed beyond 
 the actual impress of his figure. He seemed to be a hand- 
 some, matured man of about forty; his dark straight hair 
 was a little thinned over the temples, although his long 
 heavy mustache was still youthful and virgin. His clothes, 
 which were elegantly cut and of finer material than that 
 in ordinary use, the delicacy and neatness of his linen, the 
 whiteness of his hands, and, more particularly, a certain 
 dissipated pallor of complexion and lines of recklessness 
 on the brow and cheek, indicated to Herbert that the man 
 before him was one of that desperate and suspected class 
 some of whose proscribed members he had been hunting 
 the professional gambler ! 
 
 Possibly the magnetism of Herbert's intent and aston- 
 ished gaze affected him. He moved slightly, half opened 
 his eyes, said "Halloo, Tap," rubbed them again, wholly 
 opened them, fixed them with a lazy stare on Herbert, and 
 said : 
 
 "Now, who the devil are you?" 
 
 " I think I have the right to ask that question, consid- 
 ering that this is my room," said Herbert sharply. 
 
 " Your room? " 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 The stranger half raised himself on his elbow, glanced 
 round the room, settled himself slowly back on the pillows, 
 with his hands clasped lightly behind his head, dropped 
 his eyelids, smiled, and said : 
 
 "Eats!" 
 
 " What ? " demanded Herbert, with a resentful sense of 
 sacrilege to Cherry's virgin slang. 
 
 "Well, old rats then! D'ye think I don't know this 
 shebang. Look here, Johnny, what are you putting on 
 all this side for, eh? What 's your little game? Where 's 
 Tappington ? "
 
 448 A SECKET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 "If you mean Mr. Brooks, the son of this house, who 
 formerly lived in this room," replied Herbert, with a for- 
 mal precision intended to show a doubt of the stranger's 
 knowledge of Tappington, "you ought to know that he 
 has left town." 
 
 "Left town! " echoed the stranger, raising himself again. 
 "Oh, I see! getting rather too warm for him here? 
 Humph! I ought to have thought of that. Well, you 
 know, he did take mighty big risks, anyway ! " He was 
 silent a moment, with his brows knit and a rather danger- 
 ous expression in his handsome face. "So some d d 
 hound gave him away eh ? " 
 
 "I hadn't the pleasure of knowing Mr. Brooks except 
 by reputation, as the respected son of the lady upon whose 
 house you have just intruded," said Herbert frigidly, yet 
 with a creeping consciousness of some unpleasant revelation. 
 
 The stranger stared at him for a moment, again looked 
 carefully round the room, and then suddenly dropped his 
 head back on the pillow, and with his white hands over 
 his eyes and mouth tried to restrain a spasm of silent 
 laughter. After an effort he succeeded, wiped his moist 
 eyes, and sat up. 
 
 "So you didn't know Tappington, eh? " he said, lazily 
 buttoning his collar. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "No more do I." 
 
 He retied his cravat, yawned, rose, shook himself per- 
 fectly neat again, and going to Herbert's dressing-table 
 quietly took up a brush and began to lightly brush himself, 
 occasionally turning to the window to glance out. Pre- 
 sently he turned to Herbert and said : 
 
 "Well, Johnny, what's your name?" 
 
 "I am Herbert Bly, of Carstone's Bank." 
 
 " So, and a member of this same Vigilance Committee, I 
 reckon," he continued.
 
 A SECIIET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 449 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Ely, I owe you an apology for coming here, 
 and some thanks for the only sleep I 've had in forty-eight 
 hours. I struck this old shebang at about ten o'clock, and 
 it 's now two, so I reckon I 've put in about four hours' 
 square sleep. Now, look here." He beckoned Herbert 
 towards the window. "Do you see those three men stand- 
 ing under that gaslight? Well, they 're part of a gang 
 of Vigilantes who 've hunted me to the hill, and are wait- 
 ing to see me come out of the bushes, where they reckon 
 I 'm hiding. Go to them and say that I 'm here! Tell 
 them you 've got Gentleman George George Dornton, 
 the man they 've been hunting for a week in this room. 
 I promise you I won't stir, nor kick up a row, when they 've 
 come. Do it, and Carstone, if he 's a square man, will 
 raise your salary for it, and promote you." He yawned 
 slightly, and then slowly looking around him, drew the 
 easy-chair towards him and dropped comfortably in it, 
 gazing at the astounded and motionless Herbert with a lazy 
 smile. 
 
 "You're wondering what my little game is, Johnny, 
 ain't you? Well, I '11 tell you. What with being hunted 
 from pillar to post, putting my old pards to no end of 
 trouble, and then slipping up on it whenever I think I 've 
 got a sure thing like this, " he cast an almost affectionate 
 glance at the bed, "I've come to the conclusion that 
 it 's played out, and I might as well hand in my checks. 
 It 's only a question of my being run out of 'Frisco, or 
 hiding until I can slip out myself; and I 've reckoned I 
 might as well give them the trouble and expense of trans- 
 portation. And if I can put a good thing in your way in 
 doing it why, it will sort of make things square with you 
 for the fuss I 've given you." 
 
 Even in the stupefaction and helplessness of knowing 
 that the man before him was the notorious duelist and
 
 450 A SECKET OF TELEGKAPH HILL 
 
 gambler George Dornton, one of the first marked for de- 
 portation by the Vigilance Committee, Herbert recognized 
 all he had heard of his invincible coolness, courage, and 
 almost philosophic fatalism. For an instant his youth- 
 ful imagination checked even his indignation. "When he 
 recovered himself he said with rising color and boyish 
 vehemence : 
 
 " Whoever you may be, I am neither a police officer nor 
 a spy. You have no right to insult me by supposing that 
 I would profit by the mistake that made you my guest, or 
 that I would refuse you the sanctuary of the roof that cov- 
 ers your insult as well as your blunder." 
 
 The stranger gazed at him with an amused expression, 
 and then rose and stretched out his hand. 
 
 " Shake, Mr. Ely ! You 're the only man that ever 
 kicked George Dornton when he deserved it. Good- 
 night ! " He took his hat and walked to the door. 
 
 "Stop!" said Herbert impulsively; "the night is al- 
 ready far gone; go back and finish your sleep." 
 
 " You mean it t " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 The stranger turned, walked back to the bed, unfasten- 
 ing his coat and collar as he did so, and laid himself down 
 in the attitude of a moment before. 
 
 "I will call you in the morning," continued Herbert. 
 "By that time," he hesitated, "by that time your 
 pursuers may have given up their search. One word more. 
 You will be frank with me ? " 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 " Tappington and you are friends ? " 
 
 "Well yes." 
 
 " His mother and sister know nothing of this ? " 
 
 "I reckon he did n't boast of it. /didn't. Is that 
 all?" sleepily. 
 
 "Yes."
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 451 
 
 "Don't you worry about him. Good-night." 
 
 "Good-night." 
 
 But even at that moment George Dornton had dropped 
 off in a quiet, peaceful sleep. 
 
 Ely turned down the light, and drawing his easy-chair 
 to the window, dropped into it in bewildering reflection. 
 This then was the secret unknown to mother and daugh- 
 ter unsuspected by all ! This was the double life of 
 Tappington, half revealed in his flirtation with the neigh- 
 bors, in the hidden cards behind the books, in the myste- 
 rious visitor still unaccounted for and now wholly 
 exploded by this sleeping confederate, for whom, somehow, 
 Herbert felt the greatest sympathy! What was to be 
 done ? What should he say to Cherry to her mother 
 to Mr. Carstone 1 Yet he had felt he had done right. From 
 time to time he turned to the motionless recumbent shadow 
 on the bed and listened to its slow and peaceful respira- 
 tion. Apart from that undefinable attraction which all 
 original natures have for each other, the thrice-blessed 
 mystery of protection of the helpless, for the first time in 
 his life, seemed to dawn upon him through that night. 
 
 Nevertheless, the actual dawn came slowly. Twice he 
 nodded and awoke quickly with a start. The third time 
 it was day. The street-lamps were extinguished, and with 
 them the moving, restless watchers seemed also to have 
 vanished. Suddenly a formal deliberate rapping at the 
 door leading to the hall startled him to his feet. 
 
 It must be Ellen. So much the better; he could 
 quickly get rid of her. He glanced at the bed; Dornton 
 slept on undisturbed. He unlocked the door cautiously, 
 and instinctively fell back before the erect, shawled, and 
 decorous figure of Mrs. Brooks. But an utterly new reso- 
 lution and excitement had supplanted the habitual resigna- 
 tion of her handsome features, and given them an angry 
 sparkle of expression.
 
 452 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 Recollecting himself, he instantly stepped forward into 
 the passage, drawing to the door behind him, as she, with 
 equal celerity, opposed it with her hand. 
 
 "Mr. Ely," she said deliberately, "Ellen has just told 
 me that your voice has been heard in conversation with 
 some one in this room late last night. Up to this moment 
 I have foolishly allowed my daughter to persuade me that 
 certain infamous scandals regarding your conduct here were 
 false. I must ask you as a gentleman to let me pass now 
 and satisfy myself." 
 
 "But, my dear madam, one moment. Let me first ex- 
 plain I beg " stammered Herbert, with a half -hysterical 
 laugh. "I assure you a gentleman friend" 
 
 But she had pushed him aside and entered precipitately. 
 With a quick feminine glance round the room she turned 
 to the bed, .and then halted in overwhelming confusion. 
 
 "It's a friend," said Herbert in a hasty whisper. "A 
 friend of mine who returned with me late, and whom, on 
 account of the disturbed state of the streets, I induced to 
 stay here all night. He was so tired that I have not had 
 the heart to disturb him yet." 
 
 " Oh, pray don't ! I beg " said Mrs. Brooks, with a 
 certain youthful vivacity, but still gazing at the stranger's 
 handsome features as she slowly retreated. "Not for 
 worlds ! " 
 
 Herbert was relieved; she was actually blushing. 
 
 "You see, it was quite unpremeditated, I assure you. 
 We came in together," whispered Herbert, leading her 
 to the door, "and I" 
 
 "Don't believe a word of it, madam," said a lazy voice 
 from the bed, as the stranger leisurely raised himself up- 
 right, putting the last finishing touch to his cravat as he 
 shook himself neat again. "I'm an utter stranger to 
 him, and he knows it. He found me here, hiding from 
 the Vigilantes, who were chasing me on the hill. I got
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 453 
 
 in at that door, which happened to be unlocked. He let 
 me stay because he was a gentleman and I was n't. I 
 beg your pardon, madam, for having interrupted him be- 
 fore you; but it was a little rough to have him lie on my 
 account when he was n't the kind of man to lie on his own. 
 You'll forgive him won't you, please? and, as I'm 
 taking myself off now, perhaps you '11 overlook my intru- 
 sion too." 
 
 It was impossible to convey the lazy frankness of this 
 speech, the charming smile with which it was accom- 
 panied, or the easy yet deferential manner with which, tak- 
 ing up his hat, he bowed to Mrs. Brooks as he advanced 
 toward the door. 
 
 "But," said Mrs. Brooks, hurriedly glancing from Her- 
 bert to the stranger, "it must be the Vigilantes who are 
 now hanging about the street. Ellen saw them from her 
 window, and thought they were your friends, Mr. Ely. 
 This gentleman your friend " she had become a little 
 confused in her novel excitement "really ought not to 
 go out now. It would be madness." 
 
 "If you wouldn't mind his remaining a little longer, it 
 certainly would be safer," said Herbert, with wondering 
 gratitude. 
 
 "I certainly shouldn't consent to his leaving my house 
 now," said Mrs. Brooks, with dignity; "and if you would n't 
 mind calling Cherry here, Mr. Bly she 's in the din- 
 ing-room and then showing yourself for a moment in the 
 street and finding out what they wanted, it would be the 
 best thing to do." 
 
 Herbert flew downstairs; in a few hurried words he 
 gave the same explanation to the astounded Cherry that he 
 had given to her mother, with the mischievous addition 
 that Mrs. Brooks's unjust suspicions had precipitated her 
 into becoming an amicable accomplice, and then ran out 
 into the street. Here he ascertained from one of the Vigi-
 
 454 A SECEET OF TELEGKAPH HILL 
 
 lantes, whom he knew, that they were really seeking Dorn- 
 ton; but that, concluding that the fugitive had already es- 
 caped to the wharves, they expected to withdraw their sur- 
 veillance at noon. Somewhat relieved, he hastened back, 
 to find the stranger calmly seated on the sofa in the parlor 
 with the same air of frank indifference, lazily relating the 
 incidents of his flight to the two women, who were listen- 
 ing with every expression of sympathy and interest. " Poor 
 fellow ! " said Cherry, taking the astonished Ely aside into 
 the hall, "I don't believe he 's half as bad as they say he 
 is or as even he makes himself out to be. But did you 
 notice mother 1 " 
 
 Herbert, a little dazed, and, it must be confessed, a trifle 
 uneasy at this ready acceptance of the stranger, abstractedly 
 said he had not. 
 
 "Why, it's the most ridiculous thing. She's actually 
 going round without her shawl, and does n't seem to know 
 it." 
 
 V 
 
 When Herbert finally reached the bank that morning 
 he was still in a state of doubt and perplexity. He had 
 parted with his grateful visitor, whose safety in a few hours 
 seemed assured, but without the least further revelation or 
 actual allusion to anything antecedent to his selecting Tap- 
 pington's room as refuge. More than that, Herbert was 
 convinced from his manner that he had no intention of 
 making a confidante of Mrs. Brooks, and this convinced him 
 that Dornton's previous relations with Tappington were 
 not only utterly inconsistent with that young man's deco- 
 rous reputation, but were unsuspected by the family. The 
 stranger's familiar knowledge of the room, his mysterious 
 allusions to the "risks" Tappington had taken, and his 
 sudden silence on the discovery of Ely's ignorance of the 
 whole affair all pointed to some secret that, innocent or 
 not, was more or less perilous, not only to the son but to
 
 A SECEET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 455 
 
 the mother and sister. Of the latter 's ignorance he had 
 no doubt but had he any right to enlighten them? 
 Admitting that Tappington had deceived them with the 
 others, would they thank him for opening their eyes to it ? 
 If they had already a suspicion, would they care to know 
 that it was shared by him ? Halting between his frankness 
 and his delicacy, the final thought that in his budding re- 
 lations with the daughter it might seem a cruel bid for her 
 confidence, or a revenge for their distrust of him, inclined 
 him to silence. But an unforeseen occurrence took the 
 matter from his hands. At noon he was told that Mr. Car- 
 stone wished to see him in his private room ! 
 
 Satisfied that his complicity with Dornton's escape was 
 discovered, the unfortunate Herbert presented himself, 
 pale but self-possessed, before his employer. That brief 
 man of business bade him be seated, and standing himself 
 before the fireplace, looked down curiously, but not un- 
 kindly, upon his employee. 
 
 "Mr. Ely, the bank does not usually interfere with the 
 private affairs of its employees, but for certain reasons 
 which I prefer to explain to you later, I must ask you to 
 give me a straightforward answer to one or two questions. 
 I may say that they have nothing to do with your rela- 
 tions to the bank, which are to us perfectly satisfactory." 
 
 More than ever convinced that Mr. Carstone was about 
 to speak of his visitor, Herbert signified his willingness to 
 reply. 
 
 "You have been seen a great deal with Miss Brooks 
 lately on the street and elsewhere acting as her escort, 
 and evidently on terms of intimacy. To do you both jus- 
 tice, neither of you seemed to have made it a secret or 
 avoided observation; but I must ask you directly if it is 
 with her mother's permission? " 
 
 Considerably relieved, but wondering what was coming, 
 Herbert answered, with boyish frankness, that it was.
 
 456 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 "Are you engaged to the young lady 1 " 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " Are you well, Mr. Ely briefly, are you what ie 
 called ' in love ' with her ? " asked the banker, with a cer- 
 tain brusque hurrying over of a sentiment evidently incom- 
 patible with their present business surroundings. 
 
 Herbert blushed. It was the first time he had heard 
 the question voiced, even by himself. 
 
 "I am," he said resolutely. 
 
 "And you wish to marry her 1 ? " 
 
 " If I dared ask her to accept a young man with no posi- 
 tion as yet," stammered Herbert. 
 
 "People don't usually consider a young man in Car- 
 stone's Bank of no position," said the banker dryly; "and 
 I wish for your sake that were the only impediment. For 
 I am compelled to reveal to you a secret. " He paused, and 
 folding his arms, looked fixedly down upon his clerk. 
 "Mr. Bly, Tappington Brooks, the brother of your sweet- 
 heart, was a defaulter and embezzler from this bank ! " 
 
 Herbert sat durnfounded and motionless. 
 
 "Understand two things," continued Mr. Carstone 
 quickly. " First, that no purer or better women exist than 
 Miss Brooks and her mother. Secondly, that they know 
 nothing of this, and that only myself and one other man 
 are in possession of the secret." 
 
 He slightly changed his position, and went on more de- 
 liberately. "Six weeks ago Tappington sat in that chair 
 where you are sitting now, a convicted hypocrite and thief. 
 Luckily for him, although his guilt was plain, and the 
 whole secret of his double life revealed to me, a sum of 
 money advanced in pity by one of his gambling confeder- 
 ates had made his accounts good and saved him from sus- 
 picion in the eyes of his fellow clerks and my partners. 
 At first he tried to fight me on that point; then he blustered 
 and said his mother could have refunded the money ; and
 
 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 457 
 
 asked me what was a paltry five thousand dollars ! I told 
 him, Mr. Ely, that it might be five years of his youth in 
 state prison; that it might be five years of sorrow and 
 shame for his mother and sister; that it might be an ever- 
 lasting stain on the name of his dead father my friend. 
 He talked of killing himself : I told him he was a cowardly 
 fool. He asked me to give him up to the authorities: I 
 told him I intended to take the law in my own hands and 
 give him another chance; and then he broke down. I 
 transferred him that very day, without giving him time to 
 communicate with anybody, to our branch office at Port- 
 land, with a letter explaining his position to our agent, and 
 the injunction that for six months he should be under 
 strict surveillance. I myself undertook to explain his sud- 
 den departure to Mrs. Brooks, and obliged him to write to 
 her from time to time." He paused, and then continued: 
 "So far I believe my plan has been successful: the secret 
 has been kept; he has broken with the evil associates that 
 ruined him here to the best of my knowledge he has had 
 no communication with them since ; even a certain woman 
 here who shared his vicious hidden life has abandoned 
 him." 
 
 "Are you sure?" asked Herbert involuntarily, as he 
 recalled his mysterious visitor. 
 
 "I believe the Vigilance Committee has considered it 
 a public duty to deport her and her confederates beyond 
 the State," returned Carstone dryly. 
 
 Another idea flashed upon Herbert. " And the gambler 
 who advanced the money to save Tappington ? " he said 
 breathlessly. 
 
 "Wasn't such a hound as the rest of his kind, if report 
 says true," answered Carstone. "He was well known here 
 as George Dornton Gentleman George a man capable 
 of better things. . But he was before your time, Mr. Bly 
 you don't know him."
 
 458 A SECRET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 
 
 Herbert did n't deem it a felicitous moment to correct 
 his employer, and Mr. Carstone continued: "I have now 
 told you what I thought it was my duty to tell you. I 
 must leave you to judge how far it affects your relations 
 with Miss Brooks. " 
 
 Herbert did not hesitate. "I should be very sorry, sir, 
 to seem to undervalue your consideration or disregard your 
 warning; but I am afraid that even if you had been less 
 merciful to Tappington, and he were now a convicted felon, 
 I should change neither my feelings nor my intentions to 
 his sister." 
 
 " And you would still marry her ? " said Carstone 
 sternly; "you, an employee of the bank, would set the ex- 
 ample of allying yourself with one who had robbed it 1 " 
 
 "I am afraid I would, sir," said Herbert slowly. 
 
 " Even if it were a question of your remaining here 1 " 
 said Carstone grimly. 
 
 Poor Herbert already saw himself dismissed and again 
 taking up his weary quest for employment; but, neverthe- 
 less, he answered stoutly : 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " And nothing will prevent you marrying Miss Brooks ? " 
 
 " Nothing save my inability to support her. " 
 
 "Then," said Mr. Carstone, with a peculiar light in his 
 eyes, " it only remains for the bank to mark its opinion of 
 your conduct by increasing your salary to enable you to 
 do so. Shake hands, Mr. Bly," he said, laughing. "I 
 think you '11 do to tie to and I believe the young lady 
 will be of the same opinion. But not a word to either her 
 or her mother in regard to what you have heard. And 
 now I may tell you something more. I am not without 
 hope of Tappington' s future, nor d n it! without 
 some excuse for his fault, sir. He was artificially brought 
 up. When my old friend died, Mrs. Brooks, still a hand- 
 some woman, like all her sex wouldn't rest until she had
 
 A SECEET OF TELEGRAPH HILL 459 
 
 another devotion, and wrapped herself and her children up 
 in the Church. Theology may be all right for grown 
 people, but it's apt to make children artificial; and Tap- 
 pington was pious before he was fairly good. He drew oil 
 a religious credit before he had a moral capital behind it. 
 He was brought up with no knowledge of the world, and 
 when he went into it it captured him. I don't say there 
 are not saints born into the world occasionally; but for 
 every one you '11 find a lot of promiscuous human nature. 
 My old friend Josh Brooks had a heap of it, and it wouldn't 
 be strange if some was left in his children, and burst 
 through their strait-lacing in a queer way. That 's all ! 
 Good-morning, Mr. Ely. Forget what I 've told you for 
 six months, and then I should n't wonder if Tappington 
 was on hand to give his sister away." 
 
 Mr. Carstone's prophecy was but half realized. At the 
 end of six months Herbert Ely's discretion and devotion 
 were duly rewarded by Cherry's hand. But Tappington 
 did not give her away. That saintly prodigal passed his 
 period of probation with exemplary rectitude, but, either 
 from a dread of old temptation or some unexplained reason, 
 he preferred to remain in Portland, and his fastidious nest 
 on Telegraph Hill knew him no more. The key of the 
 little door on the side street passed, naturally, into the keep- 
 ing of Mrs. Bly. 
 
 Whether the secret of Tappington 's double life was ever 
 revealed to the two women is not known to the chronicler. 
 Mrs. Bly is reported to have said that the climate of 
 Oregon was more suited to her brother's delicate constitu- 
 tion than the damp fogs of San Francisco, and that his tastes 
 were always opposed to the mere frivolity of metropolitan 
 society. The only possible reason for supposing that the 
 mother may have become cognizant of her son's youthful 
 errors was in the occasional visits to the house of the hand-
 
 460 A SECEET OF TELEGKAPH HILL 
 
 some George Dornton, who, in the social revolution that 
 followed the brief reign of the Vigilance Committee, char- 
 acteristically returned as a dashing stockbroker, and the 
 fact that Mrs. Brooks seemed to have discarded her ascetic 
 shawl forever. But as all this was contemporaneous with 
 the absurd rumor, that owing to the loneliness induced by 
 the marriage of her daughter she contemplated a similar 
 change in her own condition, it is deemed unworthy the 
 serious consideration of this veracious chronicle.
 
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