M 
 
V I 
 
 r . ". 
 
& "': 
 
 BANCROFT 
 LIBRARY 
 
 4- 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 , 
 
IT WAS THE REGULAR MORNING DELIVERY OF THE 
 COUNTRY NEWSPAPER 
 
BARKER'S LUCK 
 
 ETC. 
 
 BY 
 
 BRET HARTE, 
 
 ^\*0~^ 
 
 WITH THIRTY-NINE ILLUSTRATIONS 1JY 
 A. FORESTIER, PAUL HARDY, A. MORROW, AND J. GULICH 
 
 LONDON 
 CHATTO & W INDUS 
 
 1896 
 
.1 
 
 X 
 
 7Y^ Illustrations to 'A Mother of Five* and ' A Yellow Dog' are reproduced 
 by kind permission of the Proprietor of ' In Town.' 
 
Bancroft Library 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BARKER'S LUCK ... . i 
 
 A YELLOW DOG. . . ... 40 
 
 A MOTHER OF FIVE ..... .62 
 
 BULGER'S REPUTATION . . .... 82 
 
 IN THE TULES . .108 
 
 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION . ... 148 
 
 THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH . . .189 
 
 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ . . . 219 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 IT WAS THE REGULAR MORNING DELIVERY OF THE 
 
 COUNTRY NEWSPAPER Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THEY DANCED VIOLENTLY WITH CLASPED HANDS AROUND 
 
 A SMALL BUCKEYE I 
 
 SHE OPENED THE PIANO, AND RAN HER FINGERS LIGHTLY 
 
 OVER THE KEYS 23 
 
 BONES 44 
 
 HE WOULD AFTERWARDS ACCOMPANY THEM HOME . . 46 
 
 HIS ENJOYMENT 47 
 
 MISS PINKEY PRESTON 53 
 
 HE PAUSED FOR A MOMENT, AND CARELESSLY LOOKED 
 
 DOWN ' 55 
 
 BONES UTTERED A DISTINCT GROWL 57 
 
 'GOOD DOG' 60 
 
 THE TWINS WERE QUITE NATURALLY ALIKE . . . 62 
 
 JIM CARTER TRAMPLING INTO A SALOON .... 64 
 'YOU HAVEN'T,' HE SUGGESTED KINDLY, 'GOT ANOTHER 
 
 HEAD AT HOME SUTHIN' LEFT OVER?'. . . . 67 
 
 IT WAS A PRETTY SIGHT TO SEE HER ON A SUMMER 
 
 AFTERNOON SITTING UPON A WAYSIDE STUMP . . 69 
 
 HORSEMEN HAD BEEN KNOWN TO EXAMINE IT . . . 72 
 
 GLORIANA 77 
 
viii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 I'AGE 
 
 OFFERED A DELICATE HAND TO EACH OF HER OLD 
 
 FRIENDS 80 
 
 BULGER'S REPUTATION 82 
 
 'WE'VE GOT TO START IN AGAIN FAIR' .... 85 
 
 BULGER 91 
 
 WALKING FROM CLAIM TO CLAIM 94 
 
 'SUTHIN'S GOT TO BE DONE WITH THAT BULGER' . . 97 
 
 'ALONGSIDE O' LITTLE MEELY BAKER' . . . . IO2 
 
 IT WAS BULGER ! 107 
 
 IN THE TULES Io8 
 
 HE WAS STANDING MID-LEG DEEP IN THE SURGE . . 113 
 
 HALF LIFTING, HALF DRAGGING HIS BURDEN . . . 115 
 
 ' WELL GOOD-BYE, MORSEY' 123 
 
 HE EXAMINED THE BODY 126 
 
 'WHO ARE YOU?' . . . 130 
 
 'IT WAS ABOUT HERE, I RECKON' 135 
 
 HE REACHED A SECURE POSITION IN THE FORK OF THE 
 
 TREE . . 141 
 
 MORSE STAGGERED FORWARD .... .146 
 
 A RED INDIAN 148 
 
 STEPHEN MASTERTON 149 
 
 COMPLETING HIS REPAST WITH PURPLE GRAPES . . 156 
 
 SHE LOOKED TALLER, OLDER, AND EVEN PRETTIER . 176 
 
 A FIGURE IN A PARTI-COLOURED DRESS SUDDENLY 
 
 STARTED INTO ACTIVITY 183 
 
 ' DIDN'T HE FIND MASTERTON STEEPED IN THE INIQUITY 
 
 OF PRACTISING ON AN ORGAN?' 187 
 
THEY DANCED 
 VIOLENTLY WITH 
 CLASPED HANDS 
 AROUND A SMALL 
 BUCKEYE 
 
 A BIRD twittered ! The morning sun shining 
 through the open window was apparently more 
 potent than the cool mountain air, which had only 
 caused the sleeper to curl a little more tightly in 
 his blankets. Barker's eyes opened instantly upon 
 the light and the bird on the window ledge. Like 
 all healthy young animals he would have tried to 
 sleep again, but with his momentary consciousness 
 came the recollection that it was his turn to cook 
 the breakfast that morning, and he regretfully rolled 
 out of his bunk to the floor. Without stopping to 
 dress he opened the door and stepped outside, 
 secure in the knowledge that he was overlooked 
 only by the Sierras, and plunged his head and 
 
 B 
 
2 BARKER'S LUCK 
 
 shoulders in the bucket of cold water that stood by 
 the door. Then he began to clothe himself, partly 
 in the cabin and partly in the open air, with a lapse 
 between the putting on of his trousers and coat, 
 which he employed in bringing in wood. Raking 
 together the few embers on the adobe hearth, not 
 without a prudent regard to the rattlesnake which 
 had once been detected in hauntino- the warm 
 
 <z> 
 
 ashes, he began to prepare breakfast. By this time 
 the other sleepers, his partners Stacy and Demorest, 
 young men of about his own age, were awake, alert, 
 and lazily critical of his progress. 
 
 * I don't care about my quail on toast being 
 underdone for breakfast,' said Stacy, with a yawn ; 
 ' and you needn't serve with red wine. I'm not 
 feeling very peckish this morning.' 
 
 ' And I reckon you can knock off the fried 
 oysters after the Spanish mackerel for me,' said 
 Demorest gravely. ' The fact is, that last bottle 
 of Veuve Clicquot we had for supper wasn't as dry 
 as I am this morning.' 
 
 Accustomed to these regular Barmecide sug- 
 gestions, Barker made no direct reply. Presently, 
 looking up from the fire, he said : ' There's no 
 more saleratus, so you mustn't blame me if the 
 biscuit is extra heavy. I told you we had none 
 when you went to the grocery yesterday.' 
 
 ' And I told you we hadn't a red cent to buy 
 
BARKERS LUCK 3 
 
 any with,' said Stacy, who was also treasurer. 
 ( Put these two negatives together and you make 
 the affirmative saleratus. Mix freely and bake 
 in a hot oven.' 
 
 Nevertheless, after a toilette as primitive as 
 Barker's, they sat clown to what he had prepared, 
 with the keen appetite begotten of the mountain air 
 and the regretful fastidiousness born of the recol- 
 lection of better things. Jerked beef, frizzled with 
 salt pork in a frying-pan, boiled potatoes, biscuit, 
 and coffee composed the repast. The biscuits, 
 however, proving remarkably heavy after the first 
 mouthful, were used as missiles, thrown through the 
 open door at an empty bottle, which had previously 
 served as a mark for revolver practice, and a few 
 moments later pipes were lit to counteract the 
 effects of the meal and take the taste out of their 
 mouths. Suddenly they heard the sound of horses' 
 hoofs, saw the quick passage of a rider in the open 
 space before the cabin, and felt the smart impact 
 upon the table of some small object thrown by him. 
 It was the regular morning delivery of the county 
 newspaper ! 
 
 'He's getting to be a mighty sure shot,' said 
 Demorest approvingly, looking at his upset can of 
 coffee as he picked up the paper, rolled into a 
 cylindrical wad as tightly as a cartridge, and began 
 to straighten it out. This was no easy matter, as 
 
 B 2 
 
4 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 the sheet had evidently been rolled while yet damp 
 from the press ; but Demorest eventually opened 
 it and ensconced himself behind it. 
 
 ( Nary news ? ' asked Stacy. 
 
 ' No. There never is any,' said Demorest 
 scornfully. ' We ought to stop the paper.' 
 
 ' You mean the paper man ought to. We 
 don't pay him,' said Barker, gently. 
 
 ' Well, that's the same thing, smarty. No news, 
 no pay. Hallo! ' he continued, his eyes suddenly 
 riveted on the paper. Then, after the fashion of 
 ordinary humanity, he stopped short and read the 
 interesting item to himself. When he had finished 
 he brought his fist and the paper, together, vio- 
 lently down upon the table. ' Now look at this ! 
 Talk of luck, will you? Just think of it. Here 
 are we hard-working men with lots of safe, too 
 grubbin' away on this hillside like niggers, glad to 
 get enough at the end of the day to pay for our soggy 
 biscuits and horse-bean coffee, and just look what 
 falls into the lap of some lazy sneakin' greenhorn 
 who never did a stroke of work in his life ! Here 
 are we, with no foolishness, no airs nor graces, and 
 yet men who would do credit to twice that amount 
 of luck and seem born to it, too and we're set 
 aside for some long, lank, pen-wiping scrub, who 
 just knows enough to sit down on his office stool 
 and hold on to a bit of paper.' 
 
BARKERS LUCK 5 
 
 ' What's up now ? ' asked Stacy, with the 
 carelessness begotten of familiarity with his 
 partner's extravagance. 
 
 ' Listen,' said Demorest, reading. ' " Another 
 unprecedented rise has taken place in the shares 
 of the ' Yellow Hammer First Extension Mine 
 since the sinking of the new shaft. It was quoted 
 yesterday at ten thousand dollars a foot. When 
 it is remembered that scarcely two years ago the 
 original shares, issued at fifty dollars per share, 
 had dropped to only fifty cents a share, it will 
 be seen that those who were able to hold on have 
 got a good thing." 
 
 ' What mine did you say ? ' asked Barker, 
 looking up meditatively from the dishes he was 
 already washing. 
 
 * The Yellow Hammer First Extension,' 
 returned Demorest, shortly. 
 
 ' I used to have some shares in that, and I 
 think I have them still,' said Barker, musingly. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Demorest, promptly ; ' the paper 
 speaks of it here. "We understand,"' he con- 
 tinued, reading aloud, ' " that our eminent fellow- 
 citizen, George Barker, otherwise known as ' Get 
 Left Barker' and ' Chucklehead,' is one of these 
 fortunate individuals." 
 
 ' No,' said Barker, with a slight flush of innocent 
 pleasure, ' it can't say that. How could it know ? ' 
 
6 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 Stacy laughed, but Demorest coolly Continued : 
 
 * You didn't hear all. Listen ! " We say was 
 one of them ; but having" already sold his appar- 
 ently useless certificates to our popular druggist, 
 Jones, for corn plasters, at a reduced rate, he is 
 unable to realise." 
 
 ' You may laugh, boys,' said Barker, with 
 simple seriousness ; ' but I really believe I have 
 got 'em yet. Just wait. I'll see ! ' He rose and 
 began to drag out a well-worn valise from under 
 his bunk. 'You see,' he continued, 'they were 
 given to me by an old chap in return 
 
 ' For saving his life by delaying the Stockton 
 boat that afterwards blew up,' returned Demorest 
 briefly. 'We know it all ! His hair was white, 
 and his hand trembled slightly as he laid these 
 shares in yours, saying, and you never forgot the 
 words, " Take 'em, young man and 
 
 ' For lending him two thousand dollars, then, 
 continued Barker with a simple ignoring of the 
 interruption, as he quietly brought out the valise. 
 
 ' Two thousand dollars ! ' repeated Stacy. 
 
 * When did you have two thousand dollars ? ' 
 
 ' When I first left Sacramento three years 
 ago,' said Barker, unstrapping the valise. 
 
 ' How long did you have it ?' said Demorest, 
 incredulously. 
 
 ' At least two days, I think,' returned Barker 
 
BARKER'S LUCK 7 
 
 quietly. ' Then I met that man. He was hard 
 up, and I lent him my pile and took those shares. 
 He died afterwards.' 
 
 ' Of course he did,' said Demorest severely. 
 ' They always do. Nothing kills a man more 
 quickly than an action of that kind.' Neverthe- 
 less the two partners regarded Barker rummaging 
 among some loose clothes and papers with a kind 
 of paternal toleration. ' If you can't find them, 
 bring out your government bonds,' suggested 
 Stacy. But the next moment, flushed and 
 triumphant, Barker rose from his knees, and came 
 towards them carrying some papers in his hands. 
 Demorest seized them from him, opened them, 
 spread them on the table, examined hurriedly the 
 date, signatures, and transfers, glanced again 
 quickly at the newspaper paragraph, looked 
 wildly at Stacy and then at Barker, and gasped 
 
 ' By the living hookey ! it is so I ' 
 
 ' B'gosh ! he has got 'em ! ' echoed Stacy. 
 
 ' Twenty shares/ continued Demorest breath- 
 lessly, ' at ten thousand dollars a share even if 
 it's only a foot is two hundred thousand dollars ! 
 Jerusalem ! ' 
 
 * Tell me, fair Sir,' said Stacy, with sparkling 
 eyes, ' hast still left in yonder casket any rare jewels, 
 rubies, sarcenet, or links of fine gold ? Peradven- 
 ture a pearl or two may have been overlooked ! ' 
 
8 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 'No that's all,' returned Barker simply. 
 
 ' You hear him ! Rothschild says " that's all." 
 Prince Esterhazy says he hasn't another red cent 
 only two hundred thousand dollars.' 
 
 'What ought I to do, boys?' asked Barker, 
 timidly glancing from the one to the other. Yet 
 he remembered with delight all that day, and for 
 many a year afterwards, that he only saw in their 
 faces unselfish joy and affection at that supreme 
 moment. 
 
 ' Do ? ' said Demorest promptly. ' Stand on 
 your head and yell ! No ! stop ! Come here ! ' 
 he seized both Barker and Stacy by the hand, and 
 ran out into the open air. Here they danced 
 violently with clasped hands around a small buck- 
 eye, in perfect silence, and then returned to the 
 cabin, grave but perspiring. 
 
 * Of course,' said Barker, wiping his forehead, 
 ' we'll just get some money on these certificates 
 and buy up that next claim which belongs to old 
 Carter where you know we thought we saw the 
 indication.' 
 
 ' We'll do nothing of the kind,' said Demorest 
 decidedly. * We ain't in it. That money is yours, 
 old chap every cent of it property acquired 
 before marriage, you know ; and the only thing 
 
 we'll do is to be d d before we'll see you drop 
 
 a dime of it into this God-forsaken hole. No ! ' 
 
BARKER'S LUCK 9 
 
 ' But we're partners,' gasped Barker. 
 
 * Not in this \ The utmost we can do for you, 
 opulent Sir though it ill becomes us horny-handed 
 sons of toil to rub shoulders with Dives is per- 
 chance to dine with you, to take a pasty and a 
 glass of Malvoisie, at some restaurant in Sacra- 
 mento when you've got things fixed, in honour 
 of your return to affluence. But more would ill 
 become us ! ' 
 
 * But what are. you going to do ? ' said Barker, 
 with a half-hysteric, half-frightened smile. 
 
 4 We have not yet looked through our luggage,' 
 said Demorest with invincible gravity, ' and there's 
 a secret recess a double fond to my portman- 
 teau, known only to a trusty page, which has not 
 been disturbed since I left my ancestral home in 
 Faginia. There may be a few First Debentures 
 of Erie or what not still there.' 
 
 ' I felt some strange, disc-like protuberances 
 in my dress suit the other day, but belike they are 
 but poker chips,' said Stacy thoughtfully. 
 
 An uneasy feeling crept over Barker. The 
 colour which had left his fresh cheek returned to 
 it quickly, and he turned his eyes away. Yet he 
 had seen nothing in his companions' eyes but 
 affection with even a certain kind of tender 
 commiseration that deepened his uneasiness. ' I 
 suppose,' he said desperately, after a pause, ' I 
 
io BARKER'S LUCK 
 
 ought to go over to Boomville and make some 
 inquiries.' 
 
 ' At the bank, old chap ; at the bank ! ' said 
 Demorest emphatically. ' Take my advice and 
 don't go anywhere else. Don't breathe a word of 
 your luck to anybody. And don't, whatever you 
 do, be tempted to sell just now ; you don't know 
 how high that stock's going to jump yet.' 
 
 ' I thought,' stammered Barker, ' that you boys 
 might like to go over with me.' 
 
 ' We can't afford to take another holiday on 
 grub wages, and we're only two to work to- 
 day,' said Demorest, with a slight increase of 
 colour and the faintest tremor in his voice. ' And 
 it won't do, old chap, for us to be seen bumming 
 round with you on the heels of your good fortune. 
 For everybody knows we're poor, and sooner or 
 later everybody'll know you were rich even when 
 you first came to us.' 
 
 * Nonsense ! ' said Barker indignantly. 
 
 * Gospel, my boy ! ' said Demorest shortly. 
 ' The frozen truth, old man ! ' said Stacy. 
 Barker took up his hat with some stiffness 
 
 and moved towards the door. Here he stopped 
 irresolutely, an irresolution that seemed to com- 
 municate itself to his partners. There was a 
 moment's awkward silence. Then Demorest 
 suddenly seized him by the shoulders with a grip 
 
BARKERS LUCK 11 
 
 that was half a caress, and walked him rapidly to 
 the door. * And now don't stand foolin' with us, 
 Barker boy ; but just trot off like a little man, and 
 get your grip on that fortune ; and when you've 
 got your hooks in it hang on like grim death. 
 You'll ' he hesitated for an instant only, pos 
 sibly to find the laugh that should have accom- 
 panied his speech ' you're sure to find us here 
 when you get back.' 
 
 Hurt to the quick, but restraining his feelings, 
 Barker clapped his hat on his head and walked 
 quickly away. The two partners stood watching 
 him in silence until his figure was lost in the under- 
 brush. Then they spoke. 
 
 ' Like him wasn't it ? ' said Demorest. 
 
 ' Just him all over,' said Stacy. 
 
 * Think of him having that stock stowed away 
 all these years and never even bothering his dear 
 old head about it ! ' 
 
 ' And think of his wanting to put the whole 
 thing into this rotten hillside with us ! ' 
 
 * And he'd have done it, by gosh ! and never 
 thought of it again. That's Barker.' 
 
 ' Dear old man ! ' 
 ' Good old chap ! ' 
 
 * I've been wondering if one of us oughtn't to 
 have gone with him ? He's just as likely to pour 
 
12 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 his money into the first lap'that opens for it,' said 
 Stacy. 
 
 ' The more reason why we shouldn't prevent 
 him, or seem to prevent him,' said Demorest 
 almost fiercely. ' There will be knaves and fools 
 enough who will try to put the idea of our using 
 him into his simple heart without that. No ! Let 
 him do as he likes with it but let him be himself. 
 I'd rather have him come back to us even after 
 he's lost the money his old self and empty-handed 
 than try to change the stuff God put into him 
 and make him more like others.' 
 
 The tone and manner were so different from 
 Demorest's usual levity that Stacy was silent. 
 After a pause he said : * Well ! we shall miss him 
 on the hillside won't w r e?' 
 
 Demorest did not reply. Reaching out his 
 hand, abstractedly, he wrenched off a small slip 
 from a sapling near him, and began slowly to pull 
 the leaves off, one by one, until they were all gone. 
 Then he switched it in the air, struck his bootleg 
 smartly with it, said roughly : ' Come, let's get to 
 work ! ' and strode away. 
 
 Meantime Barker, on his way to Boomville, 
 was no less singular in his manner. He kept up 
 his slightly affected attitude until he had lost sight 
 of the cabin. But, being of a simple nature, his 
 emotions were less complex. If he had not seen 
 
BARKERS LUCK 13 
 
 the undoubted look of affection in the eyes of his 
 partners he would have imagined that they were 
 jealous of his good fortune. Yet why had they 
 refused his offer to share it with him ? Why had 
 they so strangely assumed that their partnership 
 with him had closed ? Why had they declined to 
 go with him ? Why had this money of which he 
 had thought so little, and for which he had cared 
 so little changed them toward him ? It had not 
 changed him he was the same ! He remembered 
 how they had often talked and laughed over a 
 prospective ' strike ' in mining, and speculated 
 what they would do together with the money ! And 
 now that 'luck' had occurred to one of them, 
 individually, the effect was only to alienate them ! 
 He could not make it out. He was hurt, wounded 
 yet oddly enough he was conscious now of a 
 certain power within him to hurt and wound in 
 retribution. He was rich : he would let them see 
 he could do without them. He was quite free now 
 to think only of himself and Kitty. 
 
 For it must be recorded that, with all this young 
 gentleman's simplicity and unselfishness, with all 
 his loyal attitude to his partners, his first thought 
 at the moment he grasped the fact of his wealth 
 was of a young lady. It was Kitty Carter, the 
 daughter of the hotel-keeper at Boomville, who 
 owned the claim that the partners had mutually 
 
14 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 coveted. That a pretty girl's face should flash 
 upon him with his conviction that he was now a 
 rich man meant perhaps no disloyalty to his part- 
 ners, whom he would still have helped. But it 
 occurred to him now, in his half-hurt, half-vengeful 
 state, that they had often joked him about Kitty, 
 and perhaps further confidence with them was 
 debarred. And it was only due to his dignity that 
 he should now see Kitty at once. 
 
 This was easy enough, for, in the na'ive sim- 
 plicity of Boomville, and the economic arrange- 
 ments of her father, she occasionally waited upon 
 the hotel table. Half the town was always actively 
 in love with her ; the other half had been, and 
 was silent, cynical, but hopeless in defeat. For 
 Kitty was one of those singularly pretty girls occa- 
 sionally met with in South- Western frontier civi- 
 lisation whose distinct and original refinement of 
 face and figure were so remarkable and original 
 as to cast a doubt on the sagacity and prescience 
 of one parent and the morality of the other, yet 
 no doubt with equal injustice. But the fact 
 remained that s"he was slight, graceful, and self- 
 contained, and moved beside her stumpy, common- 
 place father, and her faded, commonplace mother, 
 in the dining-room of the Boomville Hotel like 
 some distinguished alien. The three partners, 
 by virtue, perhaps, of their college education and 
 
BARKERS LUCK 15 
 
 refined manners, had been exceptionally noticed 
 by Kitty. And for some occult reason the more 
 serious, perhaps, because it had no obvious or 
 logical presumption to the world generally 
 Barker was particularly favoured. 
 
 He quickened his pace, and as the flagstaff of 
 the Boomville Hotel rose before him in the little 
 hollow he seriously debated whether he had not 
 better go to the bank first, deposit his shares, get 
 a small advance on them to buy a new necktie or 
 a ' boiled shirt ' in which to present himself to 
 Miss Kitty ; but, remembering that he had partly 
 given his word to Demorest that he would keep 
 his shares intact for the present, he abandoned 
 this project, probably from the fact that his pro- 
 jected confidence with Kitty was already a viola- 
 tion of Demorest's injunctions of secresy, and his 
 conscience was sufficiently burdened with that 
 breach of faith. 
 
 But when he reached the hotel a strange 
 
 o 
 
 trepidation overcame him. The dining-room was 
 at its slack water, between the ebb of breakfast 
 and before the flow of the preparation for the 
 mid-day meal. He could not have his interview 
 with Kitty in that dreary waste of reversed chairs 
 and bare trestle-like tables and she was possibly 
 engaged in her household duties. But Miss 
 Kitty had already seen him cross the road, and 
 
16 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 had lounged into the dining-room with an artfully 
 simulated air of casually examining it. At the 
 unexpected vision of his hopes, arrayed in the 
 sweetest and freshest of rosebud sprigged print, 
 his heart faltered. Then, partly with the des- 
 peration of a timid man, and partly through the 
 working of a half-formed resolution, he met her 
 bright smile with a simple inquiry for her father. 
 Miss Kitty bit her pretty lip, smiled slightly, and 
 preceded him with great formality to the office. 
 Opening the door, without raising her lashes to 
 either her father or the visitor, she said, with a 
 mischievous accenting of the professional manner, 
 * Mr. Barker to see you on business,' and tripped 
 sweetly away. 
 
 And this slight incident precipitated the crisis. 
 For Barker instantly made up his mind that he 
 must purchase the next claim for his partners of 
 this man Carter, and that he would be obliged to 
 confide to him the details of his good fortune, and, 
 as a proof of his sincerity and his ability to pay 
 for it, he did so bluntly. Carter was a shrewd 
 business man, and the w r ell-known simplicity of 
 Barker was a proof of his truthfulness, to say 
 nothing of the shares that were shown to him. His 
 selling price for his claim had been two hundred 
 dollars, but here was a rich customer who, from a 
 mere foolish sentiment, would be no doubt willing 
 
BARKER'S LUCK 17 
 
 to pay more. He hesitated with a bland but 
 superior smile. * Ah, that was my price at my 
 last offer, Mr. Barker,' he said, suavely ; ' but, you 
 see, things are going up since then.' 
 
 The keenest duplicity is apt to fail before 
 absolute simplicity. Barker, thoroughly believing 
 him, and already a little frightened at his own 
 presumption not for the amount of the money 
 involved, but from the possibility of his partners 
 refusing his gift utterly quickly took advantage 
 of this locus penitently. * No matter, then,' he 
 said hurriedly ; * perhaps I had better consult my 
 partners first ; in fact,' he added, with a gratuitous 
 truthfulness all his own, * I hardly know whether 
 they will take it of me, so I think I'll wait.' 
 
 Carter was staggered ; this would clearly not 
 do ! He recovered himself with an insinuating 
 smile. * You pulled me up too short, Mr. Barker ; 
 I'm a business man, but hang it all ! what's that 
 among friends ? If you reckoned I gave my word 
 at two hundred why, I'm there! Say no more 
 about it the claim's yours. I'll make you out a 
 bill of sale at once.' 
 
 ' But,' hesitated Barker, ' you see I haven't 
 got the money yet, and 
 
 ' Money ! ' echoed Carter, bluntly, * what's that 
 
 among friends ? Gimme your note at thirty days 
 
 that's good enough for me. An' we'll settle the 
 
 c 
 
1 8 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 whole thing now nothing like finishing a job 
 while you're about it.' And before the bewildered 
 and doubtful visitor could protest he had filled up 
 a promissory note for Barker's signature and 
 himself signed a bill of sale for the property. 
 ' And I reckon, Mr. Barker, you'd like to take 
 your partners by surprise about this little gift of 
 yours,' he added, smilingly. ' Well, my messenger 
 is starting for the Gulch in five minutes ; he's 
 going by your cabin, and he can just drop this 
 bill o' sale, as a kind o' settled fact, on 'em afore 
 they can say anything, see ! There's nothing like 
 actin' on the spot in these sort of things. And 
 don't you hurry 'bout them either ! You see, you 
 sorter owe us a friendly call havin' always 
 dropped inter the hotel only as a customer so 
 ye'll stop here over luncheon, and I reckon, as the 
 old woman is busy, why Kitty will try to make 
 the time pass till then by playin' for you on her 
 new planner.' 
 
 Delighted, yet bewildered by the unexpected 
 invitation and opportunity, Barker mechanically 
 signed the promissory note, and as mechanically 
 addressed the envelope of the bill of sale to 
 Demorest, which Carter gave to the messenger. 
 Then he followed his host across the hall to the 
 apartment known as ( Miss Kitty's parlour.' He 
 had often heard of it as a sanctum impervious 
 
BARKER'S LUCK 19 
 
 to the ordinary guest. Whatever functions the 
 young girl assumed at the hotel and among 
 her father's boarders, it was vaguely understood 
 that she dropped them on crossing that sacred 
 threshold, and became 'Miss Carter.' The 
 county judge had been entertained there, and the 
 wife of the bank manager. Barker's admission 
 there was consequently an unprecedented honour. 
 
 He cast his eyes timidly round the room, 
 redolent and suggestive in various charming little 
 ways of the young girl's presence. There was 
 the cottage piano which had been brought up in 
 sections on the backs of mules from the foot of 
 the mountain ; there was a crayon head of 
 Minerva clone by the fair occupant at the age of 
 twelve ; there was a profile of herself done by a 
 travelling artist ; there were pretty little china 
 ornaments and many flowers, notably a faded but 
 still scented woodland shrub which Barker had 
 presented to her two weeks ago, and over which 
 Miss Kitty had discreetly thrown her white hand- 
 kerchief as he entered. A wave of hope passed 
 over him at the act, but it was quickly spent as 
 Mr. Carter's roughly-playful voice introduced 
 him : 
 
 ' Ye kin give Mr. Barker a tune or two to 
 pass time afore lunch, Kitty. You kin let him see 
 what you're doing in that line. But you'll have 
 
 C 2 
 
20 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 to sit up now, for this young man's come inter 
 some property, and will be sasheying round in 
 'Frisco afore long with a biled shirt and a stove 
 pipe, and be givin' the go-by to Boomville. 
 Well ! you young folks will excuse me for a while, 
 as I reckon I'll just toddle over and get the 
 Recorder to put that bill o' sale on record. 
 Nothin' like squaring things to onct, Mr. Barker.' 
 As he slipped away Barker felt his heart sink. 
 Carter had not only bluntly forestalled him with 
 the news, and taken away his excuse for a con- 
 fidential interview, but had put an ostentatious 
 construction on his visit. What could she think 
 of him now ? He stood ashamed and embarrassed 
 before her. 
 
 But Miss Kitty, far from noticing his em- 
 barrassment, in a sudden concern regarding the 
 * horrid ' untidiness of the room, which made her 
 cheeks quite pink in one spot, and obliged her to 
 take up and set down in exactly the same place 
 several articles, was exceedingly delighted. In 
 fact, she did not remember ever having been so 
 pleased before in her life ! These things were 
 always so unexpected ! Just like the weather, for 
 instance. It was quite cool last night and now 
 it was just stifling. And so dusty! Had Mr. 
 Barker noticed the heat coming from the Gulch ? 
 Or perhaps, being a rich man, he with a dazzling 
 
PARKER'S LUCK 21 
 
 smile was above walking now. It was so kind 
 of him to come here first and tell her father. 
 
 ' I really wanted to tell only you, Miss 
 Carter,' stammered Barker. ' You see ' he 
 hesitated. But Miss Kitty saw perfectly. He 
 wanted to tell her, and, seeing her, he asked for 
 her father \ Not that it made the slightest dif- 
 ference to her, for her father would have been 
 sure to have told her. It was also kind of her 
 father to invite him to luncheon. Otherwise she 
 might not have seen him before he left Boomville. 
 
 But this was more than Barker could stand. 
 With the same desperate directness and simplicity 
 with which he had approached her father he now 
 blurted out his whole heart to her. He tolcl her 
 how he had loved her hopelessly from the first 
 time that they had spoken together at the church 
 picnic. Did she remember it ? How he had sat 
 and worshipped her, and nothing else, at church ! 
 How her voice in the church choir had sounded 
 like an angel's ; how his poverty and his uncertain 
 future had kept him from seeing her often, lest he 
 should be tempted to betray his hopeless passion. 
 How, as soon as he realised that he had a posi- 
 tion, that his love for her need not make her 
 ridiculous to the world's eyes, he came to tell her 
 all. He did not even dare to hope! But she 
 would hear him at least, would she not ? 
 
22 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 Indeed, there was no getting away from his 
 boyish, simple, outspoken declaration. In vain 
 Kitty smiled, frowned, glanced at her pink cheeks 
 in the glass and stopped to look out of the window. 
 The room was filled with his love it was en- 
 compassing her and, despite his shy attitude, 
 seemed to be almost embracing her. But she 
 managed at last to turn upon him a face that was 
 now as white and grave as his own was eager 
 and glowing. 
 
 * Sit down,' she said, gently. 
 
 He did so obediently, but wonderingly. She 
 then opened the piano and took a seat upon the 
 music stool before it, placed some loose sheets of 
 music in the rack, and ran her fingers lightly over 
 the keys. Thus entrenched, she let her hands fall 
 idly in her lap, and for the first time raised her 
 eyes to his. 
 
 ' Now listen to me be good and don't inter- 
 rupt ! There ! not so near ; you can hear what 
 I have to say well enough where you are. That 
 will do.' 
 
 Barker had halted with the chair he was drag- 
 ging towards her and sat down. 
 
 ' Now/ said Miss Kitty, withdrawing her eyes 
 and looking straight before her, * I believe every- 
 thing you say ; perhaps I oughtn't to or at least 
 say it but I do. There ! But because I clo 
 
24 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 believe you it seems to me all wrong ! For the 
 very reasons that you give for not having spoken 
 to me before, if you really felt as you say you did, 
 are the same reasons why you should not speak to 
 me now. You see, all this time you have let 
 nobody but yourself know how you felt towards 
 me. In everybody's eyes you and your partners 
 have been only the three stuck-up, exclusive, 
 college-bred men who mined a poor claim in the 
 Gulch, and occasionally came here to this hotel 
 as customers. In everybody's eyes / have been 
 only the rich hotel-keeper's popular daughter, who 
 sometimes waited upon you but nothing more. 
 But at least we were then pretty much alike, and 
 as good as each other. And now, as soon as you 
 have become suddenly rich, and, of course, the 
 superior, you rush down here to ask me to ac- 
 knowledge it by accepting you ! ' 
 
 * You know I never meant that, Miss Kitty,' 
 burst out Barker vehemently, but his protest was 
 drowned in a rapid iwilade from the young lady's 
 fingers on the keys. He sank back in his chair. 
 
 ' Of course you never meant it,' she said, 
 with an odd laugh ; ' but everybody will take it in 
 that way, and you cannot go round to everybody 
 in Boomville and make the pretty declaration you 
 have just made to me. Everybody will say I 
 accepted you for your money ; everybody will say 
 
BARKER'S LUCK 25 
 
 it was a put-up job of my father s. Everybody 
 will say that you threw yourself away on me. 
 And I don't know but that they would be right. 
 Sit down, please! or I shall play again.' 
 
 ' You see,' she went on, without looking at 
 him ; 'just now you like to remember that you 
 fell in love with me first as a pretty waiter girl, but 
 if I became your wife it's just what you would like 
 to forget. And / shouldn't, for I should always 
 like to think of the time when you came here, 
 whenever you could afford it, and sometimes when 
 you couldn't, just to see me ; and how we used to 
 make excuses to speak with each other over the 
 dishes. You don't know what these things mean 
 to a woman who ' she hesitated a moment, 
 and then added abruptly, ' but what does that 
 matter ? You would not care to be reminded of 
 it. So,' she said, rising up with a grave smile and 
 grasping her hands tightly behind her, ' it's a 
 good deal better that you should begin to forget 
 it now. Be a good boy and take my advice. Go 
 to San Francisco. You will meet some girl there 
 in a way you will not afterwards regret. You are 
 young, and your riches, to say nothing,' she added 
 in a faltering voice that was somewhat incon- 
 sistent with the mischievous smile that played 
 upon her lips, ' of your kind and simple heart, will 
 secure that which the world would call unselfish 
 
26 PARKER'S LUCK 
 
 affection from one more equal to you, but would 
 always believe was only boiight if it came from me.' 
 
 ' I suppose you are right,' he said simply. 
 
 She glanced quickly at him, and her eyebrows 
 straightened. He had risen, his face white and 
 his grey eyes widely opened. ' I suppose you are 
 right,' he went on, ' because you are saying to 
 me what my partners said to me this morning, 
 when I offered to share my wealth with them, 
 God knows as honestly as I offered to share my 
 heart with you. I suppose that you are both 
 right ; that there must be some curse of pride or 
 selfishness upon the money that I have got ; but 
 / have not felt it yet, and the fault does not lie 
 with me.' 
 
 She gave her shoulders a slight shrug, and 
 turned impatiently towards the window. When 
 she turned back again he was gone. The room 
 around her was empty ; this room, which a 
 moment before had seemed to be pulsating with 
 his boyish passion, was now empty, and empty of 
 him. She bit her lips, rose, and ran eagerly to 
 the window. She saw his straw hat and brown 
 curls as he crossed the road. She drew her hand- 
 kerchief sharply away from the withered shrub 
 over which she had thrown it, and cast the once 
 treasured remains in the hearth. Then, possibly 
 because she had it ready in her hand, she clapped 
 
PARKERS LUCK 27 
 
 the handkerchief to her eyes, and, sinking side-ways 
 upon the chair he had risen from, put her elbows 
 on its back, and buried her face in her hands. 
 
 It is the characteristic and perhaps cruelty of 
 a simple nature to make no allowance for complex 
 motives, or to even understand them ! So it 
 seemed to Barker that his simplicity had been 
 met with equal directness. It was the possession 
 of this wealth that had in some way hopelessly 
 changed his relations with the world. He did 
 not love Kitty any the less ; he did not even 
 think she had wronged him ; they, his part- 
 ners and his sweetheart, were cleverer than he ; 
 there must be some occult quality in this wealth 
 that he would understand when he possessed it, 
 and perhaps it might even make him ashamed of 
 his generosity ; not in the way they had said, but 
 in his tempting them so audaciously to assume a 
 wrong position. It behoved him to take posses- 
 sion of it at once, and to take also upon himself 
 alone the knowledge, the trials, and responsi- 
 bilities it would incur. His cheeks flushed again 
 as he thought he had tried to tempt an innocent 
 girl with it, and he was keenly hurt that he had 
 not seen in Kitty's eyes the tenderness that had 
 softened his partners' refusal. He resolved to 
 wait no longer, but sell his dreadful stock at 
 once. He walked directly to the bank, 
 
28 BARKER'S LUCK 
 
 The manager, a shrewd but kindly man, to 
 whom Barker was known already, received him 
 graciously in recognition of his well-known simple 
 honesty, and respectfully as a representative of 
 the equally well-known poor but 'superior' 
 partnership of the Gulch. He listened with 
 marked attention to Barker's hesitating but brief 
 story, only remarking at its close : 
 
 ' You mean, of course, " the Second Extension " 
 when you say " First " ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Barker ; ' I mean the " First " 
 and it said First in the Boomville paper.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes ! I saw it it was a printer's error. 
 The stock of the " First " was called in two years 
 ago. No! You mean the "Second," for, of 
 course, you've followed the quotations, and are 
 likely to know what stock you're holding shares of. 
 When you go back, take a look at them, and 
 you'll see I am right.' 
 
 ' But I brought them with me,' said Barker, 
 with a slight flushing as he felt in his pocket, 
 ' and I am quite sure they are the " First." He 
 brought them out and laid them on the desk 
 before the manager. 
 
 The words ' First Extension ' were plainly 
 visible. The manager glanced curiously at 
 Barker, and his brow darkened. 
 
 ' Did anybody put this joke up on you ? ' he 
 
BARKERS LUCK 29 
 
 said sternly. ' Did your partners send you here 
 with this stuff ? ' 
 
 ' No ! no ! ' said Barker eagerly. ' No one ! 
 It's all my mistake. I see it now. I trusted to 
 the newspaper.' 
 
 * And you mean to say you never examined 
 the stock or the quotations, nor followed it in 
 any way, since you had it ? ' 
 
 ' Never ! ' said Barker. ' Never thought 
 about it at all till I saw the newspaper. So it's 
 not worth anything ? ' And, to the infinite surprise 
 of the manager, there was a slight smile on his 
 boyish face. 
 
 ' I am afraid it is not worth the paper it's 
 written on,' said the manager gently. 
 
 The smile on Barker's face increased to a little 
 laugh, in which his wondering companion could 
 not help joining. ' Thank you,' said Barker 
 suddenly, and rushed away. 
 
 ' He beats everything ! ' said the manager, 
 gazing after him. ' D d if he didn't seem even 
 pleased. ' 
 
 He was pleased. The burden of wealth had 
 fallen from his shoulders ; the dreadful incubus 
 that had weighed him down and parted his friends 
 from him was gone ! And he had not got rid of it 
 by spending it foolishly. It had not ruined anybody 
 yet ; it had not altered anybody in his eyes. It 
 
3 o BARKERS LUCK 
 
 was gone ; and he was a free and happy man 
 once more. He would go directly back to his 
 partners ; they would laugh at him, of course, but 
 they could not look at him now with the same sad, 
 commiserating eyes. Perhaps even Kitty but 
 here a sudden chill struck him. He had forgotten 
 the bill of sale ! He had forgotten the dreadful 
 promissory note given to her father in the rash 
 presumption of his wealth! How could it ever 
 be paid ? And, more than that, it had been given 
 in a fraud. He had no money when he gave it, 
 and no prospect of any but what he was to get 
 from those worthless shares. Would anybody 
 believe him that it was only a stupid blunder of 
 his own ? Yes, his partners might believe him ; 
 but, horrible thought, he had already implicated 
 them in his fraud ! Even now, while he was 
 standing there hesitatingly in the road, they were 
 entering upon the new claim he had not paid for 
 could not pay for and in the guise of a bene- 
 factor he was dishonouring them. Yet it was 
 Carter he must meet first ; he must confess all to 
 him. He must go back to the hotel that hotel 
 where he had indignantly left her, and tell the 
 father he was a fraud. It was terrible to think 
 of ; perhaps it w r as part of that money curse that 
 he could not get rid of, and was now realising ; but 
 it must be done. He was simple, but his very 
 
BARKERS LUCK 31 
 
 simplicity had that unhesitating directness of 
 conclusion which is the main factor of what men 
 call ' pluck.' 
 
 He turned back to the hotel and entered the 
 office. But Mr. Carter had not yet returned. 
 What was to be done ? He could not wait there ; 
 there was no time to be lost ; there was only one 
 other person who knew his expectations, and to 
 whom he could confide his failure it was Kitty. 
 It was to taste the dregs of his humiliation, but 
 it must be done. He ran up the staircase and 
 knocked timidly at the sitting-room door. There 
 was a momentary pause, and a weak voice said 
 ' Come in.' Barker opened the door ; saw the 
 vision of a handkerchief thrown away, of a pair 
 of tearful eyes that suddenly changed to stony 
 indifference, and a graceful but stiffening figure. 
 But he was past all insult now. 
 
 ' I would not intrude,' he said, simply, ' but I 
 came only to see your father. I have made an 
 awful blunder more than a blunder, I think a 
 fraiid. Believing that I was rich, I purchased 
 your father's claim for my partners, and gave him 
 my promissory note. I came here to give him 
 back his claim for that note can never be paid ! 
 I have just been to the bank ; I find I have made 
 a stupid mistake in the name of the shares upon 
 which I based my belief in my wealth. The ones 
 
32 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 I own are worthless I am as poor as ever I am 
 even poorer, for I owe your father money I can 
 never pay ! ' 
 
 To his amazement he saw a look of pain and 
 scorn come into her troubled eyes which he had 
 never seen before. ' This is a feeble trick,' she 
 said bitterly ; ' it is unlike you it is unworthy of 
 you ! ' 
 
 * Good God ! You must believe me. Listen ! 
 It was all a mistake a printer's error. I read in 
 the paper that the stock for the First Extension 
 mine had gone up, when it should have been the 
 Second. I had some old stock of the First, which 
 I had kept for years, and only thought of when I 
 read the announcement in the paper this morning. 
 I swear to you 
 
 But it was unnecessary. There was no doubt- 
 ing the truth of that voice that manner. The 
 scorn fled from Miss Kitty's eyes, to give place to 
 a stare, and then suddenly change to two bubbling 
 blue wells of laughter. She went to the window 
 and laughed. She sat down to the piano and 
 laughed. She caught up the handkerchief and, 
 hiding half her rosy face in it, laughed. She 
 finally collapsed into an easy chair and, burying 
 her brown head in its cushions, laughed long and 
 confidentially until she brought up suddenly 
 against a sob. And then was still. 
 
BARKER'S LUCK 33 
 
 Barker was dreadfully alarmed. He had 
 heard of hysterics before. He felt he ought to 
 do something. He moved towards her timidly, 
 and gently drew away her handkerchief. Alas ! 
 the blue wells were running over now. He took 
 her cold hands in his ; he knelt beside her and 
 passed his arm around her waist. He drew her 
 head upon his shoulders. He was not sure that 
 any of these things were effective until she 
 suddenly lifted her eyes to his with the last ray 
 of mirth in them vanishing in a big tear-drop, put 
 her arms round his neck, and sobbed : 
 
 ' O George ! You blessed innocent ! ' 
 
 An eloquent silence was broken by a remorse- 
 ful start from Barker. 
 
 ' But I must go and warn my poor partners, 
 dearest ; there yet may be time ; perhaps they 
 have not yet taken possession of your father's 
 claim.' 
 
 ' Yes, George dear,' said the young girl, with 
 sparkling eyes ; ' and tell them to clo so at 
 once \ ' 
 
 ' What ? ' gasped Barker. 
 
 'At once do you hear? or it may be too 
 late ! Go quick.' 
 
 ' But your father Oh, I see, dearest, you 
 will tell him all yourself, and spare me.' 
 
 * I shall do nothing so foolish, Georgey. 
 
 D 
 
34 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 Nor shall you ! Don't you see the note isn't due 
 for a month? Stop! Have you told anybody 
 but Paw and me ? ' 
 
 4 Only the bank manager.' 
 
 She ran out of the room, and returned in a 
 minute tying the most enchanting of hats by a 
 ribbon under her oval chin. ' I'll run over and 
 fix him,' she said. 
 
 ' F'ix him ? ' returned Barker, aghast. 
 
 ' Yes, I'll say your wicked partners have been 
 playing a practical joke on you, and he musn't 
 give you away. He'll do anything for me.' 
 
 ' But my partners didn't ! On the con- 
 trary 
 
 ' Don't tell me, George,' said Miss Kitty, 
 severely. ' They ought never to have let you 
 come here with that stuff. But come ! You 
 must go at once. You must not meet Paw ; 
 you'll blurt out everything to him ; I know you ! 
 I'll tell him you could not stay to luncheon. 
 Quick, now ; go. What ? Well there ! ' 
 
 Whatever it represented, the exclamation 
 was apparently so protracted that Miss Kitty was 
 obliged to push her lover to the front landing 
 before she could disappear by the back stairs. 
 But, once in the street, Barker no longer lingered. 
 It was a good three miles back to the Gulch ; he 
 might still reach it by the time his partners were 
 
BARKERS LUCK 35 
 
 taking their noonday rest, and he resolved that, 
 although the messenger had preceded him, they 
 would not enter upon the new claim until the 
 afternoon. For Barker, in spite of his mistress's 
 injunction, had no idea of taking what he couldn't 
 pay for ; he would keep the claim intact until 
 something could be settled. For the rest, he 
 walked on air ! Kitty loved him ! The accursed 
 wealth no longer stood between them. They were 
 both poor noweverything was possible. 
 
 The sun was beginning to send dwarf shadows 
 towards the east when he reached the Gulch. 
 Here a new trepidation seized him. How would 
 his partners receive the news of his utter failure ? 
 He was happy, for he had gained Kitty through 
 it. But they ? For a moment it seemed to him 
 that he had purchased his happiness through 
 their loss. He stopped, took off his hat, and 
 ran his fingers remorsefully through his damp 
 curls. 
 
 Another thing troubled him. He had reached 
 the crest of the Gulch, where their old working 
 ground was spread before him like a map. They 
 were not there ; neither were they lying under 
 the four pines on the ridge where they were wont 
 to rest at midday. He turned with some alarm 
 to the new claim adjoining theirs, but there was 
 no sign of them there either. A suclclen fear that 
 
 D 2 
 
3 6 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 they had, after parting from him, given up the 
 claim in a fit of disgust and depression, and 
 departed, now overcame him. He clapped his 
 hand on his head and ran in the direction of the 
 cabin. 
 
 He had nearly reached it when the rough 
 challenge of ' Who's there ? ' from the bushes 
 halted him, and Demorest suddenly swung into 
 the trail. But the singular look of sternness and 
 impatience which he was wearing vanished as he 
 saw Barker, and with a loud shout of ' All right, 
 it's only Barker! Hooray!' he ran towards him. 
 In an instant he was joined by Stacy from the 
 cabin, and the two men, catching hold of their 
 returning partner, waltzed him joyfully and 
 breathlessly into the cabin. But the quick-eyed 
 Demorest suddenly let go his hold and stared at 
 Barker's face. ' Why, Barker, old boy, what's 
 up?' 
 
 ' Everything's up,' gasped the breathless 
 Barker. ' It's all up about these stocks. It's all 
 a mistake ; all an infernal lie of that newspaper. 
 I never had the right kind of shares. The ones 
 I have are worthless rags ; ' and the next instant 
 he had blurted out his whole interview with the 
 bank manager. 
 
 The two partners looked at each other, and 
 then, to Barker's infinite perplexity, the same 
 
BARKERS LUCK 37 
 
 extraordinary convulsion that had seized Miss 
 Kitty fell upon them. They laughed, holding on 
 each other's shoulders ; they laughed, clinging to 
 Barker's struggling figure ; they went out and 
 laughed with their backs against a tree. They 
 laughed separately and in different corners. And 
 then they came up to Barker with tears in their 
 eyes, dropped their heads on his shoulder, and 
 murmured exhausteclly : 
 
 ' You blessed ass ! ' 
 
 ' But,' said Stacy, suddenly, ' how did you 
 manage to buy the claim ? ' 
 
 'Ah! that's the most awful thing, boys. I've 
 never paid for it] groaned Barker. 
 
 ' But Carter sent us the bill of sale,' persisted 
 Demorest, ' or we shouldn't have taken it.' 
 
 ' I gave my promissory note at thirty days,' 
 said Barker desperately, ' and where's the money 
 to come from now ? But,' he added wildly, as 
 the men glanced at each other l you said " taken 
 it." Good heavens! you don't mean to say that 
 I'm too late that you've you've touched it? ' 
 
 4 I reckon that's pretty much what we have 
 been doing,' drawled Demorest. 
 
 ' It looks uncommonly like it,' drawled Stacy. 
 
 Barker glanced blankly from the one to the 
 other. ' Shall we pass our young friend in to see 
 the show ? ' said Demorest to Stacy. 
 
38 BARKERS LUCK 
 
 1 Yes, if he'll be perfectly quiet and not 
 breathe on the glasses,' returned Stacy. 
 
 They each gravely took one of Barker's 
 hands and led him to the corner of the cabin. 
 There, on an old flour barrel, stood a large tin 
 prospecting pan, in which the partners also occa- 
 sionally used to knead their bread. A dirty 
 towel covered it. Demorest whisked it dexterously 
 aside, and disclosed three large fragments of de- 
 composed gold and quartz. Barker started back. 
 
 ' Heft it ! ' said Demorest grimly. 
 
 Barker could scarcely lift the pan ! 
 
 ' Four thousand dollars' weight if a penny ! ' 
 said Stacy, in short staccato sentences. ' In a 
 pocket ! Brought it out the second stroke of the 
 pick ! We'd been awfully blue after you left. 
 Awfully blue, too, when that bill of sale came, for 
 we thought you'd been wasting your money on us. 
 Reckoned we oughtn't to take it, but send it 
 straight back to you. Messenger gone ! Then 
 Demorest reckoned as it was clone it couldn't be 
 undone, and we ought to make just one " pros- 
 pect " on the claim, and strike a single stroke for 
 you. And there it is. And there's more on the 
 hillside.' 
 
 'But it isn't mine! It isn't yours! It's 
 Carter's. I never had the money to pay for it 
 and I haven't got it now.' 
 
BARKER'S LUCK 39 
 
 ' But you gave the note and it is not clue for 
 thirty clays. 
 
 A recollection flashed upon Barker. ' Yes/ 
 he said with thoughtful simplicity, ' that's what 
 Kitty said.' 
 
 ' Oh, Kitty said so,' said both partners, 
 gravely. 
 
 'Yes,' stammered Barker, turning away with 
 a heightened colour, ' and, as I didn't stay there to 
 luncheon, I think I'd better be getting it ready.' 
 He picked up the coffee pot and turned to the 
 hearth as his two partners stepped beyond the 
 door. 
 
 4 Wasn't it exactly like him ? ' said Demo- 
 rest. 
 
 ' Him all over,' said Stacy. 
 
 ' And his worry over that note ? ' said Demo- 
 rest. 
 
 ' And "what Kitty said,"' said Stacy. 
 
 4 Look here ! 1 reckon that wasn't all that 
 Kitty said.' 
 
 ' Of course not.' 
 
 ' What luck ! ' 
 
40 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 I NEVER knew why in the Western States of 
 America a yellow dog should be proverbially 
 considered the acme of canine degradation and 
 incompetency, nor why the possession of one 
 should seriously affect the social standing of its 
 possessor. But the fact being established, I 
 think we accepted it at Rattlers Ridge without 
 question. The matter of ownership was more 
 difficult to settle ; and although the dog I have in 
 my mind at the present writing attached himself 
 impartially and equally to every one in camp, no 
 one ventured to exclusively claim him ; while, 
 after the perpetration of any canine atrocity, 
 everybody repudiated him with indecent haste. 
 
 ' Well, I can swear he hasn't been near our 
 shanty for weeks,' or the retort, ' He was last 
 seen comin' out of your cabin,' expressed the 
 eagerness with which Rattlers Ridge washed its 
 hands of any responsibility. Yet he was by no 
 means a common dog, nor even an unhandsome 
 dog ; and it was a singular fact that his severest 
 
A YELLOW DOG 41 
 
 critics vied with each other in narrating instances 
 of his sagacity, insight, and agility which they 
 themselves had witnessed. 
 
 He had been seen crossing the ' flume ' that 
 spanned Grizzly Canon, at a height of nine 
 hundred feet, on a plank six inches wide. He 
 had tumbled down the ' shoot ' to the South Fork, 
 a thousand feet below, and was found sitting on 
 the river bank ' without a scratch, 'cept that he 
 was lazily givin' himself with his off hind paw.' 
 He had been forgotten in a snowdrift on a Sierran 
 shelf, and had come home in the early spring with 
 the conceited complacency of an Alpine traveller 
 and a plumpness alleged to have been the result 
 of an exclusive diet of buried mail bags and their 
 contents. He was generally believed to read the 
 advance election posters, and disappear a day or 
 two before the candidates and the brass band 
 which he hated came to the Ridge. He was 
 suspected of having overlooked Colonel Johnson's 
 hand at draw poker, and of having conveyed to the 
 Colonel's adversary, by a succession of barks, the 
 clanger of betting against four kings. 
 
 While these statements were supplied by 
 wholly unsupported witnesses, it was a very human 
 weakness of Rattlers Ridge that the responsibility 
 of corroboration was passed to the dog himself, 
 and he was looked upon as a consummate liar. 
 
42 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 4 Snoopin' round yere, and calliri yourself a 
 poker sharp, are ye ? Scoot, you yallor pizin ! ' 
 was a common adjuration whenever the unfor- 
 tunate animal intruded upon a card party. ' Ef 
 thar was a spark, an atom of truth in that dog, I'd 
 believe my own eyes that I saw him sittin' up and 
 trying to magnetise a jay bird off a tree. But 
 wot are ye goin' to do with a yaller equivocator 
 like that?' ' 
 
 I have said that he was yellow or, to use 
 the ordinary expression, 'yaller.' Indeed, I am 
 inclined to believe that much of the ignominy 
 attached to the epithet lay in this favourite 
 pronunciation. Men who habitually spoke of 
 a ''yellow bird,' a ' yellow hammer,' a l yellow 
 leaf,' always alluded to him as a 'yaller dog.' 
 
 He certainly was yellow. After a bath- 
 usually compulsory he presented a decided 
 gamboge streak down his back, from the top of 
 his forehead to the stump of his tail, fading in his 
 sides and flank to a delicate straw colour. His 
 breast, legs, and feet when not reddened by 
 4 slumgullion,' in which he was fond of wading 
 were white. A few attempts at ornamental 
 decoration from the India-ink pot of the store- 
 keeper failed, partly through the yellow dog's 
 excessive agility, which would never give the 
 paint time to dry on him, and partly through his 
 
A YELLOW DOG 43 
 
 success in transferring his markings to the 
 trousers and blankets of the camp. 
 
 The size and shape of his tail which had been 
 cut off before his introduction to Rattlers Ridge 
 were favourite sources of speculation to the 
 miners, both as determining his breed and his 
 moral responsibility in coming into camp in that 
 defective condition. There was a general opinion 
 that he couldn't have looked worse with a tail, 
 and its removal was therefore a gratuitous 
 effrontery. 
 
 His best feature was his eyes, which were a 
 lustrous Vandyke brown, and sparkling with 
 intelligence ; but here again he suffered from 
 evolution through environment, and their original 
 trustful openness was marred by the experience 
 of watching for flying stones, socls, and passing 
 kicks from the rear, so that the pupils were 
 continually reverting to the outer angle of the 
 eyelid. 
 
 Nevertheless, none of these characteristics 
 decided the vexed question of his breed. His 
 speed and scent pointed to a * hound,' and it is 
 related that on one occasion he was laid on the 
 trail of a wild cat with such success that he 
 followed it apparently out of the State, returning 
 at the end of two weeks, footsore, but blandly 
 contented. 
 
44 
 
 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 Attaching himself to a prospecting party, he 
 was sent under the same belief ' into the brush ' 
 to drive off a bear, who was supposed to be 
 haunting the camp fire. He returned in a few 
 minutes with the bear, driving it into the 
 unarmed circle and scattering the whole party. 
 After this the theory of his being a hunting dog 
 was abandoned. Yet it was said on the usual 
 uncorroborated evidence that he had ' put up ' a 
 quail ; and his qualities as a retriever were for 
 a long time accepted, until, during a shooting 
 
 expedition for wild 
 clucks, it was discovered 
 that the one he had 
 brought back had never 
 been shot, and the party 
 were obliged to com- 
 pound damages with an 
 adjacent settler. 
 
 His fondness for 
 paddling in the ditches 
 and ' slumgullion ' at one 
 time suggested a water 
 
 oo 
 
 spaniel. He could 
 swim, and would occa- 
 sionally bring out of 
 the river sticks and pieces of bark that had been 
 thrown in ; but as he always had to be .thrown in 
 
A YELLOW DOG 45 
 
 with them, and was a good-sized dog, his aquatic 
 reputation faded also. He remained simply 'a 
 yaller dog.' What more could be said ? His 
 actual name was ' Bones ' -given to him, no 
 doubt, through the provincial custom of confound- 
 ing the occupation of the individual with his 
 quality, for which it was pointed out precedent 
 could be found in some old English family 
 names. 
 
 But if Bones generally exhibited no preference 
 for any particular individual in camp, he always 
 made an exception in favour of drunkards. Even 
 an ordinary roystering bacchanalian party brought 
 him out from under a tree or a shed in the 
 keenest satisfaction. He would accompany them 
 through the long straggling street of the settle- 
 ment, barking his delight at every step or mis- 
 step of the revellers, and exhibiting none of that 
 mistrust of eye which marked his attendance upon 
 the sane and the respectable. He accepted even 
 their uncouth play without a snarl or a yelp, 
 hypocritically pretending even to like it ; and I 
 conscientiously believe would have allowed a tin 
 can to be attached to his tail if the hand that tied 
 it on were only unsteady, and the voice that bade 
 him ' lie still ' were husky with liquor. He would 
 ' see ' the party cheerfully into a saloon, wait outside 
 the door his tongue fairly lolling from his mouth 
 
A YELLOW DOG 
 
 in enjoyment until they reappeared, permit them 
 even to tumble over him with pleasure, and then 
 gambol away before them, heedless of awk- 
 wardly projected stones and epithets. He would 
 afterwards accompany them separately home, or 
 lie with them at cross roads until they were 
 assisted to their cabins. Then he would trot 
 rakishly to his own 
 haunt by the saloon 
 stove, with the 
 slightly conscious 
 air of having been 
 a bad dog, yet of 
 having had a good 
 time. 
 
 We never could 
 satisfy ourselves 
 whether his enjoy- 
 ment arose from 
 some merely selfish 
 conviction that he 
 was more secure 
 with the physically HIS ENJOYMENT 
 
 and mentally incompetent, from some active sym- 
 pathy with active wickedness, or from a grim 
 sense of his own mental superiority at such 
 moments. But the general belief leant towards 
 his kindred sympathy as a * yaller clog ' with all 
 
48 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 that was disreputable. And this was supported 
 by another very singular canine manifestation 
 the 'sincere flattery ' of simulation or imitation. 
 
 ' Uncle Billy' Riley for a short time enjoyed 
 the position of being the camp drunkard, and at 
 once became an object of Bones' greatest solici- 
 tude. He not only accompanied him everywhere, 
 curled at his feet or head according to Uncle 
 Billy's attitude at the moment, but, it was noticed, 
 began presently to undergo a singular alteration 
 in his own habits and appearance. From being 
 an active, tireless scout and forager, a bold and 
 unovertakable marauder, he became lazy and 
 apathetic ; allowed gophers to burrow under him 
 without endeavouring to undermine the settlement 
 in his frantic endeavours to dig them out, per- 
 mitted squirrels to flash their tails at him a 
 hundred yards away, forgot his usual caches, and 
 left his favourite bones unburied and bleaching in 
 the sun. His eyes grew dull, his coat lustreless, 
 in proportion as his companion became blear-eyed 
 and ragged ; in running, his usual arrow-like 
 directness began to deviate, and it was not un- 
 usual to meet the pair together, zig-zagging up 
 the hill. Indeed, Uncle Billy's condition could be 
 predetermined by Bones' appearance at times 
 when his temporary master was invisible. 
 ' The old man must have an awful jag on to-day,' 
 
A YELLOW DOG 49 
 
 was casually remarked when an extra fluffiness and 
 imbecility was noticeable in the passing Bones. 
 At first it was believed that he drank also, but 
 when careful investigation proved this hypothesis 
 untenable he was freely called a ' denied time- 
 servin', yaller hypocrite.' Not a few advanced 
 the opinion that if Bones did not actually lead 
 Uncle Billy astray, he at least 'slavered him over 
 and coddled him until the old man got conceited 
 in his wickedness.' This undoubtedly led to a 
 compulsory divorce between them, and Uncle 
 Billy was happily despatched to a neighbouring 
 town and a doctor. 
 
 Bones seemed to miss him greatly, ran away 
 for two days, and was supposed to have visited 
 him, to have been shocked at his convalescence, 
 and to have been 'cut' by Uncle Billy in his 
 reformed character ; and he returned to his old 
 active life again, and buried his past with his 
 forgotten bones. It was said that he was after- 
 wards detected in trying to lead an intoxicated 
 tramp into camp after the methods employed by a 
 blind man's dog, but was discovered in time by 
 the of course uncorroborated narrator. 
 
 I should be tempted to leave him thus in his 
 original and picturesque sin, but the same veracity 
 which compelled me to transcribe his faults and 
 iniquities obliges me to describe his ultimate and 
 
50 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 somewhat monotonous reformation, which came 
 from no fault of his own. 
 
 It was a joyous day at Rattlers Ridge that 
 was equally the advent of his change of heart 
 and the first stage coach that had been induced to 
 diverge from the high road and stop regularly at 
 our settlement. Flags were flying from the post 
 office and Polka saloon and Bones was flying 
 before the brass band that he detested, when the 
 sweetest girl in the county Pinkey Preston- 
 daughter of the county judge, and hopelessly 
 beloved by all Rattlers Ridge, stepped from the 
 coach which she had glorified by occupying as an 
 invited guest. 
 
 ' What makes him run away ? ' she asked 
 quickly, opening her lovely eyes in a possible 
 innocent wonder that anything could be lound to 
 run away from her. 
 
 * He don't like the brass band,' we explained 
 eagerly. 
 
 ' How funny ! ' murmured the girl ; ' is it as out 
 of tune as all that ?' 
 
 This irresistible witticism alone would have been 
 enough to satisfy us we did nothing but repeat 
 it to each other all the next day but we were 
 positively transported when we saw her suddenly 
 gather her dainty skirts in one hand and trip off 
 through the red dust towards Bones, who, with 
 
A YELLOW DOG 51 
 
 his eyes over his yellow shoulder, had halted in 
 the road, and half turned in mingled disgust and 
 rage at the spectacle of the descending trombone. 
 We held our breath as she approached him. 
 Would Bones evade her as he did us at such 
 moments, or would he save our reputation, and 
 consent, for the moment, to accept her as a new 
 kind of inebriate? She came nearer ; he saw her ; 
 he began to slowly quiver with excitement his 
 stump of a tail vibrating with such rapidity that 
 the loss of the missing portion was scarcely 
 noticeable. Suddenly she stopped before him, 
 took his yellow head between her little hands, 
 lifted it, and looked down in his handsome brown 
 eyes with her two lovely blue ones. What passed 
 between them in that magnetic glance no one 
 ever knew. She returned with him ; said to him 
 casually : ' We're not afraid of brass bands, are 
 we ? ' to which he apparently acquiesced, at least 
 stifling his disgust of them, while he was near her 
 which was nearly all the time. 
 
 During the speech-making her gloved hand 
 and his yellow head were always near together, 
 and at the crowning ceremony her public check- 
 ing of Yuba Bill's ' waybill,' on behalf of the town- 
 ship, with a gold pencil, presented to her by the 
 Stage Company Bones' joy, far from knowing 
 
 E 2 
 
52 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 no bounds, seemtd to know nothing but them, 
 and he witnessed it apparently in the air. No 
 one dared to interfere. For the first time a local 
 pride in Bones sprang up in our hearts and we 
 lied to each other in his praises openly and 
 shamelessly. 
 
 Then the time came for parting. We were 
 standing by the door of the coach, hats in hand, 
 as Miss Pinkey was about to step into it ; Bones 
 was waiting by her side, confidently looking into 
 the interior, and apparently selecting his own seat 
 on the lap of Judge Preston in the corner, when 
 Miss Pinkey held up the sweetest of admonitory 
 fingers. Then, taking his head between her two 
 hands, she again looked into his brimming eyes, 
 and said, simply, ' Good dog,' with the gentlest of 
 emphasis on the adjective, and popped into the 
 coach. 
 
 The six bay horses started as one, the 
 gorgeous green and gold vehicle bounded forward, 
 the red dust rose behind, and the yellow dog 
 danced in and out of it to the very outskirts of the 
 settlement. And then he soberly returned. 
 
 A day or two later he was missed but the 
 fact was afterwards known that he was at Spring 
 Valley, the county town where Miss Preston 
 lived and he was forgiven. A week afterwards 
 he was missed again, but this time for a longer 
 
A YELLOW DOG 
 
 53 
 
 period, and then a pathetic letter arrived from 
 Sacramento for the storekeeper's wife. 
 
 'Would you mind,' wrote Miss Pinkey Pres- 
 ton, ' asking some of your boys to come over here 
 to Sacramento and bring back Bones ? I don't 
 
 MISS PINKEY PRESTON 
 
 mind having the dear dog walk out with me at 
 Spring Valley, where everyone knows me ; but 
 here he does make one so noticeable, on account 
 of his colour. I've got scarcely a frock that he 
 agrees with. He don't go with my pink muslin, 
 
54 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 and that lovely buff tint he makes three shades 
 lighter. You know yellow is so trying.' 
 
 A consultation was quickly held by the whole 
 settlement, and a deputation sent to Sacramento 
 to relieve the unfortunate girl. We were all quite 
 indignant with Bones but, oddly enough, I think 
 it was greatly tempered with our new pride in 
 him. While he w r as with us alone his peculiarities 
 had been scarcely appreciated, but the recurrent 
 phrase, ' that yellow dog that they keep at the 
 Rattlers,' gave us a mysterious importance along 
 the country side, as if we had secured a ' mascot ' 
 in some zoological curiosity. 
 
 This was further indicated by a singular 
 occurrence. A new church had been built at the 
 cross roads, and an eminent divine had come from 
 San Francisco to preach the opening sermon. 
 After a careful examination of the camp's ward- 
 robe, and some felicitous exchange of apparel, a 
 few of us were deputed to represent ' Rattlers ' at 
 the Sunday service. In our white ducks, straw 
 hats, and flannel blouses, we were sufficiently pic- 
 turesque and distinctive as ' honest miners ' to be 
 shown off in one of the front pews. 
 
 Seated near the prettiest girls, who offered us 
 their hymn-books -in the cleanly odour of fresh 
 pine shavings, and ironed muslin, and blown over 
 by the spices of our own woods through the open 
 
A YELLOW DOG 
 
 55 
 
 windows, a deep sense of the abiding peace of 
 Christian communion settled upon us. At this 
 supreme moment someone murmured in an awe- 
 stricken whisper : 
 
 1 Will you look at Bones ? ' 
 
 We looked. Bones had entered the church and 
 gone up in the gallery through a pardonable ignor- 
 ance and modesty ; but, perceiving his mistake, was 
 now calmly walking along the gallery rail before 
 the astounded wor- 
 shippers. Reaching 
 the end, he paused 
 for a moment, and 
 carelessly looked 
 down. It was about 
 fifteen feet to the 
 floor below the 
 simplest jump in 
 the world for 
 the mountain-bred 
 Bones. Daintily, 
 gingerly, lazily, and 
 yet with a conceited 
 airiness of manner, 
 as if, humanly 
 speaking, he had 
 one leg in his pocket and were doing it on three, 
 he cleared the distance, dropping just in front of 
 
 HE PAUSED FOR A MOMENT, AND 
 CARELESSLY LOOKED DOWN 
 
56 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 the chancel, without a sound, turned himself around 
 three times, and then lay comfortably down. 
 
 Three deacons were instantly in the aisle 
 coming up before the eminent divine, who, we 
 fancied, wore a restrained smile. We heard the 
 hurried whispers : ' Belongs to them.' ( Quite a 
 local institution here, you know.' ' Don't like to 
 offend sensibilities ; ' and the minister's prompt 
 ' By no means,' as he went on with his service. 
 
 A short month ago we would have repudiated 
 Bones ; to-day we sat there in slightly supercilious 
 attitudes, as if to indicate that any affront offered 
 to Bones would be an insult to ourselves, and 
 followed by our instantaneous withdrawal in a 
 body. 
 
 All went well, however, until the minister, 
 lifting the large Bible from the communion table 
 and holding it in both hands before him, walked 
 towards a reading stand by the altar rails. Bones 
 uttered a distinct growl. The minister stopped. 
 
 We, and we alone, comprehended in a flash 
 the whole situation. The Bible was nearly the 
 size and shape of one of those soft clods of sod 
 which we were in the playful habit of launching at 
 Bones when he lay half asleep in the sun, in order 
 to see him cleverly evade it. 
 
 We held our breath. What was to be done ? 
 But the opportunity belonged to our leader, Jeff 
 
58 A YELLOW DOG 
 
 Briggs a confoundedly good-looking fellow, with 
 the golden moustache of a northern viking and 
 the curls of an Apollo. Secure in his beauty and 
 bland in his self-conceit, he rose from the pew, and 
 stepped before the chancel rails. 
 
 4 I would wait a moment if I were you, sir,' he 
 said respectfully, ' and you will see that he will go 
 out quietly.' 
 
 'What is wrong ?' whispered the minister in 
 some concern. 
 
 ' He thinks you are going to heave that book 
 at him, sir, without giving him a fair show, as we 
 do.' 
 
 The minister looked perplexed, but remained 
 motionless, with the book in his hands. Bones 
 arose, walked half way down the aisle, and 
 vanished like a yellow flash ! 
 
 With this justification of his reputation, Bones 
 disappeared for a week. At the end of that time 
 we received a polite note from Judge Preston, 
 saying that the dog had become quite domiciled 
 in their house, and begged that the camp, without 
 yielding up their valuable property in him, would 
 allow him to remain at Spring Valley for an 
 indefinite time ; that both the judge and his 
 daughter with whom Bones was already an old 
 friend would be glad if the members of the camp 
 would visit their old favourite whenever they 
 
A YELLOW DOG 59 
 
 desired, to assure themselves that he was well 
 cared for. 
 
 I am afraid that the bait thus ingenuously 
 thrown out had a good deal to do with our ulti- 
 mate yielding. However, the reports of those 
 who visited Bones were wonderful and marvellous. 
 He was residing there in state, lying on rugs in 
 the draw ing- room, coiled up under the judicial 
 desk in the judge's study, sleeping regularly on 
 the mat outside Miss Pinkey's bedroom door, or 
 lazily snapping at flies on the judge's lawn. 
 
 ' He's as yaller as ever,' said one of our 
 informants, ' but it don't somehow seem to be the 
 same back that we used to break clods over in the 
 old time, just to see him scoot out of the dust.' 
 
 And now I must record a fact which I am 
 aware all lovers of dogs will indignantly deny, and 
 which will be furiously bayed at by every faithful 
 hound since the clays of Ulysses. Bones not only 
 forgot, but absolutely cut us \ Those who called 
 upon the judge in ' store clothes ' he would per- 
 haps casually notice, but he would sniff at them 
 as if detecting and resenting them under their 
 superficial exterior. The rest he simply paid no 
 attention to. The more familiar term of 
 ' Bonesy '- formerly applied to him, as in our 
 rare moments of endearment produced no 
 response. This pained, I think, some of the 
 
A YELLOW DOG 61 
 
 more youthful of us ; but, through some strange 
 human weakness, it also increased the camp's 
 respect for him. Nevertheless, we spoke of him 
 familiarly to strangers at the very moment he 
 ignored us. I am afraid that we also took some 
 pains to point out that he was getting fat and 
 unwieldy, and losing his elasticity, implying 
 covertly that his choice was a mistake and his life 
 a failure. 
 
 A year after he died, in the odour of sanctity 
 and respectability, being found one morning 
 coiled up and stiff on the mat outside Miss Pin- 
 key's door. When the news was conveyed to us 
 we asked permission, the camp being in a pros- 
 perous condition, to erect a stone over his grave. 
 But when it came to the inscription we could 
 only think of the two words murmured to him by 
 Miss Pinkey, which we always believe effected his 
 conversion : 
 
 ' Good Dog ! ' 
 

 THE TWINS WERE QUITE NATUPALLY ALIKE 
 
 A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 SHE was a mother and a rather exemplary one 
 of five children, although her own age was 
 barely nine. Two of these children were twins, 
 and she generally alluded to them as 'Mr. 
 Amplach's children,' referring to an exceedingly 
 respectable gentleman in the next settlement, who, 
 I have reason to believe, had never set eyes on her 
 or them. The twins were quite naturally alike 
 
A MOTHER OF FIVE 63 
 
 having been in a previous state of existence two 
 ninepins and were still somewhat vague and 
 inchoate below their low shoulders in their long 
 clothes, but were also firm and globular about the 
 head, and there were not wanting those who pro- 
 fessed to see in this an unmistakable resemblance 
 to their reputed father. The other children were 
 dolls of different ages, sex, and condition, but 
 the twins may be said to have been distinctly her 
 own conception. Yet such was her admirable 
 and impartial maternity that she never made 
 any difference between them. 4 The Amplach's 
 children ' was a description rather than a distinc- 
 tion. 
 
 She was herself the motherless child of 
 Robert Foulkes, a hard-working but somewhat 
 improvident teamster on the Express Route 
 between Big Bencl and Reno. His daily avoca 
 tion, when she was not actually with him in the 
 waggon, led to an occasional dispersion of herself 
 arid her progeny along the road and at wayside 
 stations between those places. But the family 
 was generally collected together by rough but 
 kindly hands already familiar with the handling 
 of her children. I have a very vivid recollection 
 of Jim Carter trampling into a saloon, after a five- 
 mile walk through a snowdrift, with an Amplach 
 twin in his pocket. ' Suthin' ought to be done,' 
 
6 4 
 
 A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 he growled, ' to make Meary a little more careful 
 o' them Ampl ich children ; I picked up one outer 
 the snow a mile beyond Big Bend.' ' God bless 
 my soul ! ' said a casual passenger, looking up 
 
 JIM CARTER TRAMPLING INTO A SALOON 
 
 hastily ; ' I didn't know Mr. Amplach was mar- 
 ried.' Jim winked diabolically at us over his 
 glass. ' No more did I,' he responded gloomily, 
 ' but you can't tell anything about the ways o' 
 them respectable, psalm-singing jay birds.' Hav- 
 
A MOTHER OF FIVE 65 
 
 ing thus disposed of Amplach's character, later on, 
 when he was alone with Mary, or * Meary,' as she 
 chose to pronounce it, the rascal worked upon her 
 feelings with an account of the infant Amplach's 
 sufferings in the snowdrift and its agonised whis- 
 perings for ' Meary ! Meary ! ' until real tears 
 stood in Mary's blue eyes. ' Let this be a lesson to 
 you,' he concluded, drawing the ninepin dexter- 
 ously from his pocket, ' for it took nigh a quart of 
 the best forty-rod whisky to bring that child to.' 
 Not only did Mary firmly believe him, but for 
 weeks afterwards ' Julian Amplach ' this unhappy 
 twin was kept in a somnolent attitude in the 
 cart, and was believed to have contracted dissipated 
 habits from the effects of his heroic treatment. 
 
 Her numerous family was achieved in only 
 two years, and succeeded her first child, which was 
 brought from Sacramento at considerable expense 
 by a Mr. William Dodd, also a teamster, on her 
 seventh birthday. This, by one of those rare 
 inventions known only to a child's vocabulary, 
 she at once called ' Misery ' probably a combina- 
 tion of ' Missy,' as she herself was formerly termed 
 by strangers, and ' Missouri,' her native State. It 
 was an excessively large doll at first Mr. Dodd 
 wishing to get the worth of his money but time, 
 and perhaps an excess of maternal care, remedied 
 the defect, and it lost flesh and certain unem- 
 
66 A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 ployed parts of its limbs very rapidly. It was 
 further reduced in bulk by falling under the 
 waggon and having the whole train pass over it, 
 but singularly enough its greatest attenuation was 
 in the head and shoulders the complexion peel- 
 ing off as a solid layer, followed by the disappear- 
 ance of distinct strata of its extraordinary com- 
 position. This continued until the head and 
 shoulders were much too small for even its 
 reduced frame, and all the devices of childish 
 millinery a shawl secured with tacks and well 
 hammered in, and a hat which tilted backwards 
 and forwards and never appeared at the same 
 angle failed to restore symmetry. Until one 
 dreadful morning, after an imprudent bath, the 
 whole upper structure disappeared, leaving two 
 hideous iron prongs standing erect from the spinal 
 column. Even an imaginative child like Mary 
 could not accept this sort of thing as a head. 
 Later in the day Jack Roper, the blacksmith at 
 the * Crossing,' was concerned at the plaintive 
 appearance, before his forge, of a little girl, clad 
 in a bright blue pinafore of the same colour as her 
 eyes, carrying her monstrous offspring in her arms. 
 Jack recognised her and instantly divined the 
 situation. * You haven't,' he suggested kindly, 
 1 got another head at home suthin' left over ? ' 
 Mary shook her head sadly ; even her prolific 
 
'YOU HAVEN'T,' HE SUGGESTED KINDLY, 'GOT ANOTHER HEAD 
 AT HOME-SUTHIN' LEFT OVER?' 
 
 F 2 
 
68 A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 maternity was not equal to the creation of children 
 in detail. ' Nor anythin' like a head ? ' he per- 
 sisted sympathetically. Mary's loving eyes filled 
 with tears. 'No, nuffen!' 'You couldn't,' he 
 continued thoughtfully, * use her the other side 
 up ? we might get a fine pair o' legs outer them 
 irons,' he added, touching the two prongs with 
 artistic suggestion. * Now look here -' ; he 
 was about to tilt the doll over when a small cry 
 of feminine distress and a swift movement of a 
 matronly little arm arrested the evident indis- 
 cretion. 'I see,' he said gravely. 'Well, you 
 come here to-morrow, and we'll fix up suthin' to 
 work her.' Jack was thoughtful the rest of the 
 day, more than usually impatient with certain 
 stubborn mules to be shod, and even knocked off 
 work an hour earlier to walk to Big Bend and a 
 rival shop. But the next morning when the trust- 
 ful and anxious mother appeared at the forge she 
 uttered a scream of delight. Jack had neatly 
 joined a hollow iron globe, taken from the newel 
 post of some old iron staircase railing, to the two 
 prongs, and covered it with a coat of red fire-proof 
 paint. It was true that its complexion was rather 
 high, that it was inclined to be top heavy, and 
 that in the long run the other dolls suffered con- 
 siderably by enforced association with this un- 
 yielding and implacable head and shoulders, but 
 
A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 69 
 
 this did not diminish Mary's joy over her restored 
 first-born. Even its utter absence of features 
 was no defect in a family where features were 
 
 IT WAS A PRETTY SIGHT TO SEK HER ON A SUMMER AFTER- 
 NOON SITTING UPON A WAYSIDE STUMP, HER OTHER CHIL- 
 DREN DUTIFULLY RANGED AROUND HER 
 
 as evanescent as in hers, and the most ordinary 
 student of evolution could see that the ' Amplach * 
 ninepins were in legitimate succession to the 
 
70 A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 globular-headed ' Misery.' For a time I think 
 that Mary even preferred her to the others. 
 Howbeit it was a pretty sight to see her on a 
 summer afternoon sitting- upon a wayside stump, 
 her other children dutifully ranged around her, 
 and the hard, unfeeling head of Misery pressed 
 deep down into her loving little heart, as she swayed 
 from side to side, crooning her plaintive lullaby. 
 Small wonder that the bees took up the song and 
 droned a slumberous accompaniment, or that high 
 above her head the enormous pines, stirred 
 through their depths by the soft Sierran air or 
 Heaven knows what let slip flickering lights and 
 shadows to play over that cast-iron face, until the 
 child, looking down upon it with the quick, trans- 
 forming power of love, thought that it smiled. 
 
 The two remaining members of the family 
 were less distinctive. ' Gloriana '--pronounced 
 as two words: ' Glory Anna ' being the work 
 of her father, who also named it, was simply a 
 cylindrical roll of canvas waggon-covering, girt 
 so as to define a neck and waist, with a rudely 
 inked face altogether a weak, pitiable, man-like 
 invention ; and 'Johnny Dear,' alleged to be the 
 representative of John Doremus, a young store- 
 keeper who occasionally supplied Mary with 
 gratuitous sweets. Mary never admitted this, and, 
 as we were all gentlemen along that road, we 
 
A MOTHER OF FIVE 71 
 
 were blind to the suggestion. * Johnny Dear ' 
 was originally a small, plaster phrenological cast 
 of a head and bust, begged from some shop win- 
 dow in the county town, with a body clearly con- 
 structed by Mary herself. It was an ominous 
 fact that it was always dressed as a boy, and was 
 distinctly the most tinman-looking of all her 
 progeny. Indeed, in spite of the faculties that 
 were legibly printed all over its smooth, white, 
 hairless head, it was appallingly life-like. Left 
 sometimes by Mary astride of the branch of a 
 wayside tree, horsemen had been known to 
 dismount hurriedly and examine it, returning with 
 a mystified smile, and it was on record that Yuba 
 Bill had once pulled up the Pioneer Coach at the 
 request of curious and imploring passengers, and 
 then grimly installed 'Johnny Dear' beside him 
 on the box seat, publicly delivering him to 
 Mary at Big Bend, to her wide-eyed confusion 
 and the first blush we had ever seen on her round, 
 chubby, sunburnt cheeks. It may seem strange 
 that, with her great popularity and her w r ell-known 
 maternal instincts, she had not been kept fully 
 supplied with proper and more conventional dolls ; 
 but it was soon recognised that she did not care 
 for them left their waxen faces, rolling eyes, and 
 abundant hair in ditches, or stripped them to help 
 clothe the more extravagant creatures of her fancy. 
 
HORSEMEN HAD BEEN KNOWN TO EXAMINE IT 
 
A MOTHER, OF FIVE 73 
 
 So it came that 'Johnny Dear's ' strictly classical 
 profile looked out from under a girl's fashionable 
 straw sailor hat, to the utter obliteration of his 
 prominent intellectual faculties ; the Amplach twins 
 wore bonnets on their ninepin heads, and even 
 an attempt was made to fit a flaxen scalp on the 
 iron-headed Misery. But her dolls were always 
 a creation of her own her affection for them 
 increasing with the demand upon her imagination. 
 This may seem somewhat inconsistent with her 
 habit of occasionally abandoning them in the 
 woods or in the ditches. But she had an un- 
 bounded confidence in the kindly maternity of 
 Nature, and trusted her children to the breast of 
 the Great Mother as freely as she did herself in 
 her own motherlessness. And this confidence 
 was rarely betrayed. Rats, mice, snails, wild cats, 
 panther and bear never touched her lost waifs. 
 Even the elements were kindly ; an Amplach twin 
 buried under a snowdrift in high altitudes reap- 
 peared smilingly in the spring in all its wooden 
 and painted integrity. We were all Pantheists 
 then and believed this implicitly. It was only 
 when exposed to the milder forces of civilisation 
 that Mary had anything to fear. Yet even then, 
 when Patsey O'Connor's domestic goat had once 
 tried to ' sample ' the lost Misery, he had retreated 
 with the loss of three front teeth, and Thompson's 
 
74 A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 mule came out of an encounter with that iron- 
 headed prodigy with a sprained hind leg and a 
 cut and swollen pastern. 
 
 But these were the simple Arcadian days of 
 the road between Big Bend and Reno, and pro- 
 gress and prosperity, alas ! brought changes in 
 their wake. It was already whispered that Mary 
 ought to be going to school, and Mr. Amplach 
 still happily oblivious of the liberties taken with 
 his name as trustee of the public school at Dock- 
 ville, had intimated that Mary's Bohemian wan- 
 derings were a scandal to the county. She was 
 growing up in ignorance, a dreadful ignorance 
 of everything but the chivalry, the deep tender- 
 ness, the delicacy and unselfishness of the rude 
 men around her, and obliviousness of faith in any- 
 thing but the immeasurable bounty of Nature 
 towards her and her children. Of course there 
 was a fierce discussion between ' the boys ' of the 
 road and the few married families of the settle- 
 ment on this point, but, of course, progress and 
 4 snivelisation ' as the boys chose to call it- 
 triumphed. The projection of a railroad settled 
 it ; Robert Foulkes, promoted to a foremanship 
 of a division of the line, was made to understand 
 that his daughter must be educated. But the 
 terrible question of Mary's family remained. No 
 school would open its doors to that heterogeneous 
 
A MOTHER OF FIVE 75 
 
 collection, and Mary's little heart would have broken 
 over the rude dispersal or heroic burning of her 
 children. The ingenuity of Jack Roper suggested 
 a compromise. She was allowed to select one to 
 take to school with her ; the others were adopted 
 by certain of her friends, and she was to be per- 
 mitted to visit them every Saturday afternoon. 
 The selection was a cruel trial, so cruel that, 
 knowing her undoubted preference for her first- 
 born, Misery, we would not have interfered for 
 worlds, but in her unexpected choice of ' Johnny 
 Dear ' the most unworldly of us knew that it was 
 the first glimmering of feminine tact her first sub- 
 mission to the world of propriety that she was now 
 entering. ' Johnny Dear ' was undoubtedly the 
 most presentable ; even more, there was an educa- 
 tional suggestion in its prominent, mapped-out 
 phrenological organs. The adopted fathers were 
 loyal to their trust. Indeed, for years afterwards 
 the blacksmith kept the iron-headed Misery on a 
 rucle shelf, like a shrine, near his bunk ; nobody 
 but himself and Meary ever knew the secret, stolen, 
 and thrilling interviews that took place during the 
 first days of their separation. Certain facts, how- 
 ever, transpired concerning Mary's equal faithful- 
 ness to another of her children. It is said that 
 one Saturday afternoon, when the road manager 
 of the new line was seated in his office at Reno in 
 
76 A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 private business discussion with two directors, a 
 gentle tap was heard at the door. It was opened 
 to an eager little face, a pair of blue eyes, and a 
 blue pinafore. To the astonishment of the direc- 
 tors, a change came over the face of the manager. 
 Taking the child gently by the hand, he walked 
 to his desk, on which the papers of the new line 
 were scattered, and drew open a drawer from 
 which he took a large ninepin extraordinarily 
 dressed as doll. The astonishment of the two 
 gentlemen was increased at the following quaint 
 colloquy between the manager and the child. 
 
 4 She's doing remarkably well in spite of the try- 
 ing weather, but I have had to keep her very quiet,' 
 said the manager, regarding the ninepin critically. 
 
 4 Ess,' said Mary quickly. ' It's just the same 
 with Johnny Dear ; his cough is f ightful at nights. 
 But Misery's all right. I've just been to see her.' 
 
 4 There's a good deal of scarlet fever around,' 
 continued the manager with quiet concern, ' and 
 we can't be too careful. But I shall take her for 
 a little run down the line to-morrow.' 
 
 The eyes of Mary sparkled and overflowed 
 like blue water. Then there was a kiss, a little 
 lau^h, a shy glance at the two curious strangers, 
 
 O ' J O O 
 
 the blue pinafore fluttered away, and the colloquy 
 ended. She was equally attentive in her care of 
 the others, but the rag baby ' Gloriana,' who had 
 
A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 77 
 
 found a home in Jim Carter's cabin at the Ridge, 
 living too far for daily visits, was brought clown 
 regularly on Saturday afternoon to Mary's house 
 by Jim, tucked in asleep in his saddle bags or 
 riding gallantly before 
 him on the horn of his 
 saddle. On Sunday 
 there was a dress par- 
 ade of all the dolls, 
 which kept Mary 
 in heart for the next 
 week's desolation. 
 
 But there came one 
 Saturday and Sunday 
 when Mary did not ap- 
 pear, and it was known 
 along the road that 
 she had been called 
 to San Francisco to 
 meet an aunt who had 
 
 GLORIANA 
 
 just arrived from ' the 
 
 States.' It was a vacant Sunday to ' the boys,' 
 a very hollow, unsanctified Sunday, somehow, 
 without that little figure. But the next Sunday, 
 and the next, were still worse, and then it was 
 known that the dreadful aunt was making much 
 of Mary, and was sending her to a grand 
 school a convent at Santa Clara where it was 
 
7 8 A MOTHER OF FIVE 
 
 rumoured girls were turned out so accomplished 
 that their own parents did not know them. But 
 we knew that was impossible to our Mary ; and a 
 letter which came from her at the end of the 
 month, and before the convent had closed upon 
 the blue pinafore, satisfied us, and was balm to 
 our anxious hearts. It was characteristic of 
 Mary ; it was addressed to nobody in particular, 
 and would but for the prudence of the aunt- 
 have been entrusted to the Post Office open and 
 undirected. It was a single sheet, handed to us 
 without a word by her father ; but, as we passed it 
 from hand to hand, we understood it as if we had 
 heard our lost playfellow's voice. 
 
 4 Thers more houses in 'Frisco than you kin 
 shake a stick at and wimmens till you kant rest, 
 but mules and jakasses aint got no sho, nor 
 blacksmiffs shops, wich is not to be seen no wear. 
 Rapits and Skwirls also bares and panfers is 
 on-noun and unforgotten on account of the streets 
 and Sunday skoles. Jim Roper you orter be 
 very good to Mizzery on a kount of my not bein 
 here, and not harten your hart to her bekos she 
 is top heavy which is ontroo and simptly an 
 imptient lie like you allus make. I have a kinary 
 bird wot sings deliteful but isnt a yellerhamer 
 sutch as I know, as youd think. Dear Mister 
 Montgommery, dont keep Gulan Amplak to 
 
A MOTHER OF FIVE 79 
 
 mutch shet up in office drors ; it isn't good for his 
 lungs and chest. And dont you ink his head 
 nother ! youre as bad as the rest. Johnny Dear, 
 you must be very kind to your attopted father, 
 and you, Glory Anna, must lov your kind Jimmy 
 Carter verry mutch for taking you hossback so 
 offen. I has been buggy ridin with an orficer 
 who has killed injuns real ! I am comin back 
 soon with grate affeckshun, so luke out and mind.' 
 But it was three years before she returned, 
 and this was her last and only letter. The 
 4 adopted fathers ' of her children were faithful, 
 however, and when the new line was opened, and 
 it was understood that she was to be present with 
 her father at the ceremony, they came, with a 
 common understanding, to the station to meet 
 their old playmate. They were ranged along the 
 platform poor Jack Roper a little overweighted 
 with a bundle he was carrying on his left arm. 
 And then a young girl in the freshness of her 
 teens and the spotless purity of a muslin frock, 
 that although brief in skirt was perfect in fit, fault- 
 lessly booted and gloved, tripped from the train, 
 and offered a delicate hand in turn to each of her 
 old friends. Nothing could be prettier than the 
 smile on the cheeks that were no lono-er sunburnt ; 
 
 o 
 
 nothing could be clearer than the blue eyes lifted 
 frankly to theirs. And yet, as she gracefully 
 
OFFERED A DELICATE HAND TO EACH OF HER OLD FRIENDS 
 
A MOTHER OF FIVE 81 
 
 turned away with her father, the faces of the four 
 adopted parents were found to be as red and 
 embarrassed as her own on the day that Yuba 
 Bill drove up publicly with ' Johnny Dear' on the 
 box seat. 
 
 'You weren't such a fool,' said Jack Mont- 
 gomery to Roper, ' as to bring " Misery " here with 
 you ? ' 
 
 ' I was,' said Roper with a constrained laugh, 
 ' and you ? ' He had just caught sight of the 
 head of a ninepin peeping from the manager's 
 pocket. The man laughed, and then the four 
 turned silently away. 
 
 * Mary ' had indeed come back to them ; but 
 not ' The Mother of Five ! ' 
 
 G 
 
WE all remembered very distinctly Bulger's 
 advent in Rattlesnake Camp. It was during the 
 rainy season a season singularly inducive to 
 settled reflective impressions as we sat and 
 smoked around the stove in Mosby's grocery. 
 Like older and more civilised communities, we 
 had our periodic waves of sentiment and opinion, 
 with the exception that they were more evan- 
 escent with us, and, as we had just passed through 
 a fortnight of dissipation and extravagance, owing 
 to a visit from some gamblers and speculators, 
 we were now undergoing a severe moral revulsion, 
 partly induced by reduced finances and partly by 
 the arrival of two families with grown-up daughters 
 on the hill. It was raining, with occasional warm 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 83 
 
 breaths, through the open window, of the south- 
 west trades, redolent of the saturated spices of 
 the woods and springing grasses, which perhaps 
 were slightly inconsistent with the hot stove 
 around w r hich we had congregated. But the 
 stove was only an excuse for our listless, gregari- 
 ous gathering ; warmth and idleness went well 
 together, and it was currently accepted that we 
 had caught from the particular reptile which gave 
 its name to our camp much of its pathetic, life- 
 long search for warmth, and its habits of indolently 
 basking in it. 
 
 A few of us still went through the affectation 
 of attempting to dry our damp clothes by the 
 stove, and sizzling our wet boots against it ; but 
 as the same individuals calmly permitted the rain 
 to drive in upon them through the open window 
 without moving, and seemed to take infinite 
 delight in the amount of steam they generated, 
 even that pretence dropped. Cro talus himself, 
 with his tail in a muddy ditch, and the sun 
 striking cold fire from his slit eyes as he basked 
 his head on a warm stone beside it, could not 
 have typified us better. 
 
 Percy Briggs took his pipe from his mouth at 
 last and said, with reflective severity : 
 
 ' Well, gentlemen, if we can't get the waggon 
 
 G 2 
 
84 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 road over here, and if we're going to be left out 
 by the stage coach company, we can at least 
 straighten up the camp, and not have it look like 
 a cross between a tenement alley and a broken- 
 down circus. I declare I was just sick when 
 these two Baker girls started to make a short cut 
 through the camp. Darned if they didn't turn 
 round and take to the woods and the Rattler's 
 again afore they got half-way. And that be- 
 nighted idiot, Tom Rollins, standin' there in the 
 ditch, spattered all over with slumgullion 'til he 
 looked like a spotted tarrypin, wavin' his fins and 
 sashaying backwards and forrards and say in', 
 " This way, ladies ; this way ! " 
 
 ( /didn't,' returned Tom Rollins, quite casually, 
 without looking up from his steaming boots ; 
 '/didn't start in night afore last to dance "The 
 Green Corn Dance" outer "Hiawatha," with 
 feathers in my hair and a red blanket on my 
 shoulders, round that family's new potato patch, 
 in order that it might ''increase and multiply." I 
 didn't sing "Sabbath Morning Bells" with an 
 anvil accompaniment until twelve o'clock at 
 night over at the Crossing, so that they might 
 dream of their Happy Childhood's Home. It 
 seems to me that it wasn't vie did it. I might be 
 mistaken it was late but I have the impression 
 that it wasn't vie.' 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 From the silence that followed this would 
 seem to have been clearly a recent performance 
 of the previous speaker, who, however, responded 
 quite cheerfully : 
 
 'WE'VE GOT TO START IN AGAIN FAIR' 
 
 An evenin' o' simple, childish gaiety don't 
 count. We've got to start in again fair. What 
 
86 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 we want here is to clear up and encourage decent 
 immigration, and get rid o' gamblers and blather- 
 skites that are makin' this yer camp their happy 
 hunting-ground. We don't want any more 
 permiskus shootinV We don't want any more 
 paintin' the town red. We don't want any more 
 swaggerin' galloots ridin' up to this grocery and 
 emptyin' their six-shooters in the air afore they 
 'light. We want to put a stop to it peacefully 
 and without a row and we kin. We ain't got 
 no bullies of our own to fight back, and they 
 know it, so they know they won't get no credit 
 bullyin' us ; they'll leave, if we're only firm. It's 
 all along of our cussed fool good-nature ; they see 
 it amuses us, and they'll keep it up as long as the 
 whisky's free. What we want to do is, when the 
 next man comes waltzin' along 
 
 A distant clatter from the rocky hillside here 
 mingled with the puff of damp air through the 
 window. 
 
 ' Looks as ef we might hev a show even now,' 
 said Tom Rollins, removing his feet from the stove 
 as we all instinctively faced towards the window. 
 
 ' I reckon you're in with us in this, Mosby ?' 
 said Briggs, turning towards the proprietor of the 
 grocery, who had been leaning listlessly against 
 the wall behind his bar. 
 
 ' Arter the man's had a fair show,' said Mosby, 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 87 
 
 cautiously. He deprecated the prevailing con- 
 dition of things, but it was still an open question 
 whether the families would prove as valuable 
 customers as his present clients. ' Everything in 
 moderation, gentlemen.' 
 
 The sound of galloping hoofs came nearer, 
 now swishing in the soft mud of the highway, 
 until the unseen rider pulled up before the 
 door. There was no shouting, however, nor 
 did he announce himself with the usual salvo 
 of fire-arms. But when, after a singularly heavy- 
 tread and the jingle of spurs on the platform, the 
 door flew open to the new-comer, he seemed a 
 realisation of our worst expectations. Tall, broacl, 
 and muscular, he carried in one hand a shot-gun, 
 while from his hip dangled a heavy navy revolver. 
 His long hair, unkempt but oiled, swept a greasy 
 circle around his shoulders ; his enormous mous- 
 tache, dripping with wet, completely concealed his 
 mouth. His costume of fringed buckskin was wild 
 and outr^even for our frontier camp. But what was 
 more confirmative of our suspicions was that he was 
 evidently in the habit of making an impression, 
 and after a distinct pause at the doorway, with only 
 a side glance at us, he strode towards the bar. 
 
 ' As there don't seem to be no hotel hereabouts, 
 I reckon I kin put up my mustang here and have 
 a shakedown somewhere behind that counter,' he 
 
88 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 said. His voice seemed to have added to its natural 
 depth the hoarseness of frequent over-straining. 
 
 ' Ye ain't got no bunk to spare, you boys, hev 
 ye ? ' asked Mosby, evasively, glancing at Percy 
 Briggs, without looking at the stranger. We all 
 looked at Briggs also ; it was his affair after all 
 he had originated this opposition. To our surprise 
 he said nothing. 
 
 The stranger leaned heavily on the counter. 
 
 ' I was speaking to you,' he said, with his eyes 
 on Mosby, and slightly accenting the pronoun with 
 a tap of his revolver-butt on the bar. ' Ye don't 
 seem to catch on.' 
 
 Mosby smiled feebly, and again cast an im- 
 ploring glance at Briggs. To our greater astonish- 
 ment, Briggs said, quietly : ' Why don't you answer 
 the stranger, Mosby ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said Mosby, suavely, to the new- 
 comer, while an angry flush crossed his cheek as 
 he recognised the position in which Briggs had 
 placed him. ' Of course, you're welcome to what 
 doings / hev here, but I reckoned these gentlemen 
 over there,' with a vicious glance at Briggs, ' might 
 fix ye up suthin' better ; they're so pow'ful kind to 
 your sort.' 
 
 The stranger threw clown a gold piece on the 
 counter and said : ' Fork out your whisky, then,' 
 waited until his glass was filled, took it in his hand, 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 89 
 
 and then, drawing an empty chair to the stove, sat 
 down beside Briggs. ' Seein' as you're that kind,' 
 he said, placing his heavy hand on Briggs's knee, 
 ' mebbe ye kin tell me ef thar's a shanty or a cabin 
 at Rattlesnake that I kin get for a couple o' weeks. 
 I saw an empty one at the head o' the hill. You 
 see, gennelmen,' he added confidentially as he 
 swept the drops of whisky from his long moustache 
 with his fingers and glanced around our group, 
 ' I've got some business over at Bigwood ' (our 
 nearest town), ' but ez a place to slay at it ain't my 
 style.' 
 
 ' What's the matter with Bigwood ? ' said 
 Briggs, abruptly. 
 
 ' It's too howlin', too festive, too rough ; thar's 
 too much yellin' and shootin' goin' clay and night. 
 Thar's too many card sharps and gay gamboleirs 
 cavortin' about the town to please me. Too much 
 permiskus soakin' at the bar and free jim-jams. 
 What I want is a quiet place whar a man kin give 
 his mind and elbow a rest from betwixt grippin' 
 his shootin'- irons and crookin' in his whisky. A 
 sort o' slow, quiet, easy place like this! 
 
 We all stared at him, Percy Briggs as fixedly 
 as any. But there was not the slightest trace of 
 irony, sarcasm, or peculiar significance in his man- 
 ner. He went on slowly : 
 
 ' W T hen I struck this yer camp a minit ago ; 
 
90 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 when I seed that thar ditch meanderin' peaceful 
 like through the street, without a hotel or free 
 saloon or express office on either side ; with the 
 smoke just a curlin' over the chimbley of that log 
 shanty, and the bresh just set fire to and a smoulder- 
 in' in that potato patch with a kind o' old-time 
 stingin' in your eyes and nose, and a few women's 
 duds just a flutterin' on a line by the fence, I says 
 to myself: " Bulger this is peace ! This is wot 
 you're lookin' for, Bulger this is wot you're 
 wantin' this is wot you '// hev ! " 
 
 ' You say you've business over at Bigwoocl. 
 What business ? ' said Briggs. 
 
 ' It's a peculiar business, young fellow,' returned 
 the strano-er, gravely. 4 Thar's different men ez 
 
 O ' O J 
 
 has different opinions about it. Some allows it's 
 an easy business, some allows it's a rough business ; 
 some says it's a sad business, others says it's gay 
 and festive. Some wonders ez how I've got into 
 it, and others wonder how I'll ever get out of it. 
 It's a pay in' business it's a peaceful sort o' busi- 
 ness when left to itself. It's a peculiar business 
 a business that sort o' b'longs to me, though I ain't 
 got no patent from Washington for it. It's 
 my own business.' He paused, rose, and saying, 
 ' Let's meander over and take a look at that empty 
 cabin, and ef she suits me, why, I'll plank down a 
 slug for her on the spot, and move in to-morrow,' 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 walked towards the door. ' I'll pick up suthin' in 
 the way o' boxes and blankets from the grocery,' 
 
 BULGER 
 
 he added, looking at Mosby, * and ef thar's a 
 corner whar I kin stand my gun and a nail to hang 
 up my revolver why, I'm all thar ! ' 
 
92 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 By this time we were no longer astonished 
 when Briggs rose also, and not only accompanied 
 the sinister-looking stranger to the empty cabin, 
 but assisted him in negotiating with its owner for 
 a fortnight's occupancy. Nevertheless, we eagerly 
 assailed Briggs on his return for some explanation 
 of this singular change in his attitude towards the 
 stranger. He coolly reminded us, however, that 
 while his intention of excluding ruffianly adven- 
 turers from the camp remained the same, he had 
 no right to go back on the stranger's sentiments, 
 which were evidently in accord with our own, and 
 although Mr. Bulger's appearance was inconsistent 
 with them, that was only an additional reason why 
 we should substitute a mild firmness for that vio- 
 lence which we all deprecated, but which might 
 attend his abrupt dismissal. We were all satisfied 
 except Mosby, who had not yet recovered from 
 Briggs' s change of front, which he was pleased to 
 call ' craw-fishing.' ' Seemed to me his account 
 of his business was extraordinary satisfactory. 
 Sorter filled the bill all round no mistake thar ' 
 he suggested, with a malicious irony. * I like a 
 man that's outspoken.' 
 
 ' I understand him very well,' said Briggs, 
 quietly. 
 
 ' In course you did. Only when you've settled 
 in your mind whether he was describing horse- 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 93 
 
 stealing or tract-distributing, mebbe you'll let me 
 know.' 
 
 It would seem, however, that Briggs did not 
 interrogate the stranger again regarding it, nor 
 did we, who w r ere quite content to leave matters 
 in Briggs's hands. Enough that Mr. Bulger 
 moved into the empty cabin the next day, and, 
 with the aid of a few old boxes from the grocery, 
 which he quickly extemporised into tables and 
 chairs, and the purchase of some necessary cooking 
 utensils, soon made himself at home. The rest of 
 the camp, now T thoroughly aroused, made a point 
 of leaving their work in the ditches, whenever they 
 could, to stroll carelessly around Bulger's tenement 
 in the vague hope of satisfying a curiosity that had 
 become tormenting. But they could not find that 
 he was doing anything of a suspicious character 
 except, perhaps, from the fact that it was not 
 outwardly suspicious, which I grieve to say did 
 not lull them to security. He seemed to be either 
 fixing up his cabin or smoking in his doorway. 
 On the second day he checked this itinerant 
 curiosity by taking the initiative himself, and 
 quietly walking from claim to claim and from cabin 
 to cabin with a pacific but by no means a satisfying 
 interest. The shadow of his tall figure carrying 
 his inseparable gun, which had not yet apparently 
 ' stood in the corner,' falling upon an excavated 
 
94 
 
 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 bank beside the delving miners, gave them a sense 
 of uneasiness they could not explain ; a few charac- 
 teristic yells of boisterous hilarity from their noon- 
 
 WALKING FROM CLAIM TO CLAIM 
 
 tide gathering under a cotton wood somehow ceased 
 when Mr. Bulger was seen gravely approaching, 
 and his casual stopping before a poker party in 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 95 
 
 the gulch actually caused one of the most reckless 
 gamblers to weakly recede from ' a bluff ' and allow 
 his adversary to sweep the board. After this it 
 was felt that matters were becoming serious. There 
 was no subsequent patrolling of the camp before 
 the stranger's cabin. Their curiosity was singularly 
 abated. A general feeling of repulsion, kept 
 within bounds partly by the absence of any overt 
 act from Bulger, and partly by an inconsistent 
 over-consciousness of his shot-gun, took its place. 
 But an unexpected occurrence revived it. 
 
 One evening, as the usual social circle were 
 drawn around Mosby's stove, the lazy silence was 
 broken by the familiar sounds of pistol-shots and 
 a series of more familiar shrieks and yells from the 
 rocky hill road. The circle quickly recognised 
 the voices of their old friends the roysterers and 
 gamblers from Sawyer's Dam ; they as quickly 
 recognised the returning shouts here and there 
 from a few companions who were welcoming 
 them. I grieve to say that in spite of their pre- 
 vious attitude of reformation a smile of gratified 
 
 o 
 
 expectancy lit up the faces of the younger mem- 
 bers, and even the older ones glanced dubiously 
 at Briggs. Mosby made no attempt to conceal a 
 sigh of relief as he carefully laid out an extra 
 supply of glasses in his bar. Suddenly the on- 
 coming yells ceased, the wild gallop of hoofs 
 
96 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 slackened into a trot, and finally halted, and even 
 the responsive shouts of the camp stopped also. 
 We all looked vacantly at each other ; Mosby 
 leaped over his counter and went to the door ; 
 Briggs followed with the rest of us. The night 
 was dark, and it was a few minutes before we 
 could distinguish a straggling, vague, but silent 
 procession moving through the moist, heavy air 
 on the hill. But, to our surprise, it was moving 
 away from us absolutely leaving the camp ! We 
 were still staring in expectancy when out of the 
 darkness slowly emerged a figure which we recog- 
 nised at once as Captain Jim, one of the most 
 reckless members of our camp. Pushing us back 
 into the grocery he entered without a word, closed 
 the door behind him, and threw himself vacantly 
 into a chair. We at once pressed around him. 
 He looked up at us dazed, drew a long breath, 
 and said slowly : 
 
 ' It's no use, gentlemen ! Suthin's got to be 
 done with that Bulger ; and mighty quick.' 
 
 ' What's the matter ? ' we asked eagerly. 
 
 ' Matter ! ' he repeated, passing his hand 
 across his forehead. * Matter ! Look yere ! Ye 
 all of you heard them boys from Sawyer's Dam 
 coming over the hill ? Ye heard their music 
 mebbe ye heard us join in the chorus ? Well, on 
 they came waltzing down the hill, like old times, 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 97 
 
 and we waitin' for 'em. Then, jest as they 
 passed the old cabin, who do you think they ran 
 right into shooting-iron, long- hair and moustache, 
 
 Q/ 
 
 'SUTHIN'S GOT TO HE DONE WITH THAT UULGKR' 
 
 II 
 
98 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 and all that standing there plump in the road ? 
 why, Bulger ! ' 
 
 ' Well ? ' 
 
 ' Well ! Whatever it was don't ask me 
 but, dern my skin, ef after a word or two from 
 him them boys just stopped yellin', turned round 
 like lambs, and rode away, peaceful-like, along 
 with him. We ran after them a spell, still yellin', 
 when that thar Bulger faced around, said to us 
 that he'd " come down here for quiet," and ef he 
 couldn't hev it he'd have to leave with these 
 gentlemen who wanted it too ! And I'm gosh 
 darned ef those gentlemen you know 'em all 
 Patsey Carpenter, Snap-shot Harry, and the 
 others ever said a darned word, but kinder nod- 
 ded " So long " and went away ! ' 
 
 Our astonishment and mystification were com- 
 plete ; and, I regret to say, the indignation of 
 Captain Jim and Mosby equally so. 'If we're 
 going to be bossed by the first new-comer,' said 
 the former, gloomily, ( I reckon we might as well 
 take our chances with the Sawyer's Dam boys, 
 whom we know.' 
 
 ' Ef we are going to hev the legitimate trade 
 of Rattlesnake interfered with by the cranks of 
 some hidin' horse-thief or retired road agent,' said 
 Mosby, ' we might as well invite the hull of 
 Joaquin Murietta's gang here at once ! But I 
 
BULGER'S REPUTATION 99 
 
 suppose this is part o' Bulger's particular " busi- 
 ness," he added, with a withering glance at 
 Briggs. 
 
 ' I understand it all,' said Briggs, quietly. ' You 
 know I told you that bullies couldn't live in the same 
 camp together. That's human nature and that's 
 how plain men like you and me manage to scud 
 along without getting plugged. You see, Bulger 
 wasn't going to hev any of his own kind jumpin' 
 his claim here. And I reckon he was pow'ful 
 enough to back down Sawyer's Dam. Anyhow, 
 the bluff told and here we are in peace and quiet- 
 ness.' 
 
 ' Until he lets us know what /^his little game,' 
 sneered Mosby. 
 
 Nevertheless, such is the force of mysterious 
 power that, although it was exercised against what 
 we firmly believed was the independence of the 
 camp, it extorted a certain respect from us. A 
 few thought it was not a bad thing to have a 
 professional bully, and even took care to relate 
 the discomfiture of the wicked youth of Sawyer's 
 Dam for the benefit of a certain adjacent and 
 powerful camp who had looked clown upon us. 
 He, himself, returning the same evening from his 
 self-imposed escort, vouchsafed no other reason 
 than the one he had already given. Preposterous 
 as it seemed, we were obliged to accept it, and 
 
 H 2 
 
ioo BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 the still more preposterous inference that he had 
 sought Rattlesnake Camp solely for the purpose 
 of acquiring and securing its peace and quietness. 
 Certainly he had no other occupation ; the little 
 work he did upon the tailings or the abandoned 
 claim which went with his little cabin was scarcely 
 a pretence. He rode over on certain days to 
 Bigwood on account of his business, but no one 
 had ever seen him there, nor could the descrip- 
 tion of his manner and appearance evoke any in- 
 formation from the Bigwooclians. It remained 
 a mystery. 
 
 It had also been feared that the advent of 
 Bulger would intensify that fear and dislike of 
 riotous Rattlesnake which the two families had 
 shown, and which was the origin of Briggs's futile 
 attempt at reformation. But it \\as discovered 
 that since his arrival the young girls had shown 
 less timidity in entering the camp, and had even 
 exchanged some polite conversation and good- 
 humoured badinage with its younger and more 
 impressible members. Perhaps this tended to 
 make these youths more observant, for a few days 
 later, when the vexed question of Bulger's business 
 was again under discussion, one of them remarked, 
 gloomily : 
 
 ' I reckon there ain't no doubt what he's here 
 for ! ' 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 101 
 
 The youthful prophet was instantly sat upon 
 after the fashion of all elderly critics since Job's. 
 Nevertheless, after a pause he was permitted to 
 explain. 
 
 ' Only this morning, when Lance Forester and 
 me were chirping with them gals out on the hill, 
 who should we see hanging around in the bush 
 but that cussed Bulger ! We allowed at first that 
 it might be only a new style of his interfering so we 
 took no notice, except to pass a few remarks about 
 listeners and that sort o' thing, and perhaps to 
 bedevil the girls a little more than we'd hev done 
 if we'd been alone. Well, they laughed, and we 
 laughed and that was the end of it. But this after- 
 noon, as Lance and me were meandering down by 
 their cabin, we sorter turned into the woods to wait 
 till they'd come out. Then all of a sucklent Lance 
 stopped as rigid as a pointer that's flushed 
 somethin', and says, " B'gosh ! " And thar, under 
 a big redwood, sat that slimy hypocrite Bulger, 
 twisting his long moustaches and smiling like 
 clockwork alongside o' little Meely Baker you 
 know her, the pootiest of the two sisters and she 
 smilin' back on him. Think of it ! that unknown, 
 unwashed, long-haired tramp and bully, who must 
 be forty if a day, and that innocent gal of sixteen. 
 It was simply disgustin' ! ' 
 
 I need not say that the older cynics and critics 
 
102 
 
 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 already alluded to at once improved the occasion. 
 What more could be expected ? Women, the 
 
 'ALONGSIDE O' LITTLE MEELY P.AKER' 
 
 world over, were noted for this sort of thing ! 
 This long-haired, swaggering bully, with his air of 
 
BULGER'S REPUTATION 103 
 
 mystery, had captivated them, as he always had 
 done since the days of Homer. Simple merit, 
 which sat lowly in bar-rooms, and conceived 
 projects for the public good around the humble, 
 unostentatious stove, was nowhere ! Youth could 
 not too soon learn this bitter lesson. And in this 
 case youth too, perhaps, was right in its conjec- 
 tures, for this was, no doubt, the little game of the 
 perfidious Bulger. We recalled the fact that his 
 unhallowed appearance in camp was almost 
 coincident with the arrival of the two families. 
 We glanced at Briggs ; to our amazement, for the 
 first time he looked seriously concerned. But 
 Mosby in the meantime leaned his elbows lazily 
 over the counter and, in a slow voice, added fuel 
 to the flame. 
 
 ' I wouldn't hev spoken of it before,' he said, 
 with a sidelong glance at Briggs, ' for it might be 
 all in the line o' Bulger's "business," but suthin' 
 happened the other night that, for a minit, got me ! 
 I was passin' the Bakers' shanty, and I heard one 
 of them gals a-singing a camp-meeting hymn. I 
 don't calkilate to run agin you young fellers in any 
 sparkin' or canoodlin' that's goin' on, but her voice 
 sounded so pow'ful soothin' and pretty thet I jest 
 stood there and listened. Then the old woman 
 old Mother Baker she joined in, and I listened 
 too. And then dern my skin ! but a man's 
 
io 4 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 voice joined in jest belching outer that cabin ! 
 and I sorter lifted myself up and kem away. 
 That voice, gentlemen,' said Mosby, lingering 
 artistically as he took up a glass and professionally 
 eyed it before wiping it with his towel, ' that 
 voice, cumfbly fixed thar in thet cabin among 
 them wimen folks, was Bulger's ! ' 
 
 Briggs got up, with his eyes looking the 
 darker for his flushed face. ' Gentlemen,' he 
 said huskily, ' thar's only one thing to be done. 
 A lot of us have got to ride over to Sawyer's Dam 
 to-morrow morning and pick up as many square 
 men as we can muster ; there's a big camp meet- 
 ing goin' on there, and there won't be no difficulty 
 in that. When we've got a big enough crowd to 
 show we mean business we must march back 
 here and ride Bulger out of this camp ! I don't 
 hanker arter Vigilance Committees, as a rule it's 
 a rough remedy it's like drinkin' a quart o' 
 whisky agin rattlesnake poison but it's got to be 
 done ! We don't mind being sold ourselves but 
 when it comes to our standin' by and seein' the 
 only innocent people in Rattlesnake given away 
 we kick ! Bulger's got to be fired outer this 
 camp ! And he will be ! ' 
 
 But he was not. 
 
 For when, the next morning, a determined 
 and thoughtful procession of the best and most 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 105 
 
 characteristic citizens of Rattlesnake Camp filed 
 into Sawyer's Dam they found that their mys- 
 terious friends had disappeared, although they 
 met with a fraternal but subdued welcome from 
 the general camp. But any approach to the 
 subject of their visit, however, was received with 
 a chilling disapproval. Did they not know that 
 lawlessness of any kind, even under the rude 
 mantle of frontier justice, was to be deprecated 
 and scouted when a ' means of salvation, a power 
 of regeneration,' such as was now sweeping over 
 Sawyer's Dam, was at hand ? Could they not 
 induce this man who was to be violently deported 
 to accompany them willingly to Sawyer's Dam 
 and subject himself to the powerful influence of 
 the ' revival ' then in full swing ? 
 
 The Rattlesnake boys laughed bitterly, and 
 described the man of whom they talked so lightly ; 
 but in vain. ' It's no use, gentlemen,' said a 
 more worldly bystander, in a lower voice, 4 the 
 camp meetin's got a strong grip here, and betwixt 
 you and me there ain't no wonder. For the man 
 that runs it the big preacher has got new ways 
 and methods that fetches the boys every time. 
 He don't preach no cut-and-driecl gospel ; he 
 don't carry around no slop-shop robes and clap 
 'em on you whether they fit or not ; but he samples 
 and measures the camp afore he wades into it. 
 
io6 BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 He scouts and examines ; he ain't no mere Sunday 
 preacher with a comfortable house and once-a- 
 week church, but he gives up his days and nights to 
 it, and makes his family work with him, and even 
 sends 'em forward to explore the field. And he 
 ain't no white choker shadbelly either, but fits 
 himself, like his gospel, to the men he works among. 
 Ye ought to hear him afore you go. His tent 
 is just out your way. I'll go with you.' 
 
 Too dejected to offer any opposition, and 
 perhaps a little curious to see this man who had 
 unwittingly frustrated their design of lynching 
 Bulger, they halted at the outer fringe of wor- 
 shippers who packed the huge inclosure. They 
 had not time to indulge their cynicisms over this 
 swaying mass of emotional, half-thinking, and 
 almost irresponsible beings, nor to detect any 
 similarity between their extreme methods and 
 the scheme of redemption they themselves were 
 seeking, for in a few moments, apparently lifted 
 to his feet on a wave of religious exaltation, the 
 famous preacher arose. The men of Rattlesnake 
 gasped for breath. 
 
 It was Bulger ! 
 
 But Briggs quickly recovered himself. ' By 
 what name,' said he, turning passionately towards 
 his guide, 'does this man this impostor call 
 himself here ? ' 
 
BULGERS REPUTATION 
 
 107 
 
 1 Baker.' 
 
 ' Baker ? ' echoed the Rattlesnake contingent. 
 ' Baker ? ' repeated Lance Forester, with a 
 ghastly smile. 
 
 IT WAS BULGER ! 
 
 'Yes,' returned their guide. ' You oughter 
 know it too ! For he sent his wife and daughters 
 over, after his usual style, to sample your camp, a 
 week ago ! Come, now, what are you givin' us ? ' 
 
HE had never seen a steamboat in his life. Born 
 and reared in one of the Western Territories, far 
 from a navigable river, he had only known the 
 ' dug-out ' or canoe as a means of conveyance 
 across the scant streams whose fordable waters 
 made even those scarcely a necessity. The long, 
 narrow, hooded waggon, drawn by swaying oxen, 
 known familiarly as a ' prairie schooner,' in which 
 he journeyed across the plains to California in '53, 
 did not help his conception by that nautical figure. 
 And when at last he dropped upon the land of 
 promise through one of the Southern mountain 
 passes, he halted all unconsciously upon the low 
 banks of a great yellow river amidst a tangled 
 
IN THE TULES 109 
 
 brake of strange, reecl-like grasses that were un- 
 known to him. The river, broadening as it 
 debouched through many channels into a lordly 
 bay, seemed to him the ultima th^de of his 
 journey ings. Unyoking his oxen on the edge of 
 the luxuriant meadows which blended with 
 scarcely any line of demarcation into the great 
 stream itself, he found the prospect ' good ' 
 according to his lights and prairial experiences, 
 and, converting his halted waggon into a tempo- 
 rary cabin, he resolved to rest here and 4 settle.' 
 
 There was little difficulty in so doing. The 
 cultivated clearings he had passed were few and 
 far between ; the land would be his by discovery 
 and occupation ; his habits of loneliness and self- 
 reliance made him independent of neighbours. 
 He took his first meal in his new solitude under a 
 spreading willow, but so near his natural boundary 
 that the waters gurgled and oozed in the reeds 
 but a few feet from him. The sun sank, deepen- 
 ing the gold of the river until it might have been 
 the stream of Pactolus itself. But Martin Morse 
 had no imagination ; he was not even a gold- 
 seeker ; he had simply obeyed the roving instincts 
 of the frontier-man in coming hither. The land 
 was virgin and unoccupied ; it was his ; he was 
 alone. These questions settled, he smoked his 
 pipe with less concern over his three thousand 
 
i io IN THE TULES 
 
 miles' transference of habitation than the man of 
 cities who had moved into a next street. When 
 the sun sank he rolled himself in his blankets in 
 the waggon bed and went quietly to sleep. 
 
 But he was presently awakened by something 
 which at first he could not determine to be a 
 noise or an intangible sensation. It was a deep 
 throbbing through the silence of the night a 
 pulsation that seemed even to be communicated 
 to the rude bed whereon he lay. As it came 
 nearer it separated itself into a laboured, monoto- 
 nous panting, continuous, but distinct from an 
 equally monotonous but fainter beating of the 
 waters, as if the whole track of the river were 
 being coursed and trodden by a multitude of 
 swiftly-trampling feet. A strange feeling took 
 possession of him half of fear, half of curious 
 expectation. It was coming nearer. He rose, 
 leaped hurriedly from the waggon, and ran to the 
 bank. The nitrht was dark ; at first he saw no- 
 
 o 
 
 thing before him but the steel-black sky pierced 
 with far-spaced, irregularly scattered stars. Then 
 there seemed to be approaching him, from the 
 left, another and more symmetrical constellation 
 a few red and blue stars high above the river, 
 with three compact lines of larger planetary lights 
 flashing towards him and apparently on his own 
 level. It was almost upon him ; he involuntarily 
 
IN THE TULES in 
 
 drew back as the strange phenomenon swept 
 abreast of where he stood, and resolved itself into 
 a dark yet airy bulk, whose vagueness, topped 
 by enormous towers, was yet illuminated by those 
 open squares of light that he had taken for stars, 
 but which he saw now were brilliantly-lit win- 
 dows. 
 
 Their vivid rays shot through the reeds and 
 sent broad bands across the meadow, the station- 
 ary waggon, and the slumbering oxen. But all 
 this was nothing to the inner life they disclosed 
 through lifted curtains and open blinds, which 
 was the crowning revelation of this strange and 
 wonderful spectacle. Elegantly-dressed men and 
 women moved through brilliantly-lit and elabo- 
 rately-gilt saloons ; in one a banquet seemed to 
 be spread, served by white-jacketed servants ; in 
 another were men playing cards around marble- 
 topped tables ; in another the light flashed back 
 a^ain from the mirrors and (^listenin^ glasses and 
 
 o o o o 
 
 decanters of a gorgeous refreshment saloon ; in 
 smaller openings there was the shy disclosure of 
 dainty white curtains and velvet lounges of more 
 intimate apartments. 
 
 Martin Morse stood enthralled and mystified. 
 It was as if some invisible Asmodeus had revealed 
 to this simple frontier-man a world of which he 
 had never dreamed. It was the world a world 
 
ii2 nV THE TULES 
 
 of which he knew nothing in his simple, rustic 
 habits and profound Western isolation sweeping 
 by him with the rush of an unknown planet. In 
 another moment it was gone ; a shower of sparks 
 shot up from one of the towers and fell all around 
 him, and then vanished, even as he remembered 
 the set piece of ' Fourth of July ' fireworks had 
 vanished in his own rural town when he was a 
 boy. The darkness fell with it too. But such 
 was his utter absorption and breathless preoccu- 
 pation that only a cold chill recalled him to him- 
 self, and he found he was standing mid-leg deep 
 in the surge cast over the low banks by this 
 passage of the first steam-boat he had ever 
 seen ! 
 
 He waited for it the next night, when it 
 appeared a little later from the opposite direction 
 on its return trip. He watched it the next night 
 and the next. Hereafter he never missed it, 
 coming or going whatever the hard and weary 
 preoccupations of his new and lonely life. He 
 felt he could not have slept without seeing it go 
 by. Oddly enough, his interest and desire did 
 not go further. Even had he the time and money 
 to spend in a passage on the boat, and thus 
 actively realise the great world of which he had 
 only these rare glimpses, a certain proud, rustic 
 shyness kept him from it. It was not his world ; 
 
IN THE TUI.ES 
 
 he could not affront the snubs that his ignorance 
 and inexperience would have provoked, and he 
 was dimly conscious, as so many of us are in 
 our ignorance, that in mingling with it he would 
 
 HE WAS STANDING MID-LEG DEEP IN THE SURGE 
 
 simply lose the easy privileges of alien criticism. 
 For there was much that he did not understand 
 and some things that grated upon his lonely inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 i 
 
ii 4 1N THE TULES 
 
 One night, a lighter one than those previous, 
 he lingered a little longer in the moonlight to 
 watch the phosphorescent wake of the retreating 
 boat. Suddenly it struck him that there was a 
 certain irregular splashing in the water, quite dif- 
 ferent from the regular, diagonally crossing surges 
 that the boat swept upon the bank. Looking at it 
 more intently, he saw a black object turning in the 
 water like a porpoise, and then the unmistakable 
 uplifting of a black arm in an unskilful swimmer's 
 overhand stroke. It was a struggling man. But 
 it was quickly evident that the current was too 
 strong and the turbulence of the shallow water too 
 great for his efforts. Without a moment's hesita- 
 tion, clad as he was in only his shirt and trousers, 
 Morse strode into the reeds, and the next moment, 
 with a call of warning, was swimming towards the 
 now wildly struggling figure. But, from some un- 
 known reason, as Morse approached him nearer 
 the man uttered some incoherent protest and 
 desperately turned away, throwing off Morse's 
 extended arm. 
 
 Attributing this only to the vague convulsions 
 of a drowning man, Morse, a skilled swimmer, 
 managed to clutch his shoulder, and propelled him 
 at arm's length, still struggling, apparently with as 
 much reluctance as incapacity, towards the bank. 
 As their feet touched the reeds and slimy bottom 
 
JN THE TULES 
 
 the man's resistance ceased, and he lapsed quite 
 listlessly in Morse's arms. Half lifting, half 
 dragging" his burden, he succeeded at last in gain- 
 
 HALF LIFTING, HALF DRAGGING HIS BURDEN 
 
 ing the strip of meadow, and deposited the un- 
 conscious man beneath the willow tree. Then he 
 ran to his waggon for whisky. 
 
 I 2 
 
ii6 IN THE TULES 
 
 But, to his surprise, on his return the man was 
 already sitting up and wringing the water from 
 his clothes. He then saw for the first time, by 
 the clear moonlight, that the stranger was ele- 
 gantly dressed and of striking appearance, and 
 was clearly a part of that bright and fascinating 
 world which Morse had been contemplating in his 
 solitude. He eagerly took the proffered tin cup 
 and drank the whisky. Then he rose to his feet, 
 staggered a few steps forward, and glanced 
 curiously around him at the still motionless wag- 
 gon, the few felled trees and evidence of ' clearing,' 
 and even at the rude cabin of logs and canvas just 
 beginning to rise from the ground a few paces 
 distant, and said, impatiently : 
 ' Where the devil am I ? ' 
 Morse hesitated. He was unable to name 
 the locality of his clwelling-place. He answered 
 briefly : 
 
 ' On the right bank of the Sacramento.' 
 The stranger turned upon him a look of sus- 
 picion not unmingled with resentment. ' Oh ! ' 
 he said, with ironical gravity, ' and I suppose that 
 this water you picked me out of was the Sacra- 
 mento River. Thank you ! ' 
 
 Morse, with slow Western patience, explained 
 that he had only settled there three weeks ago, 
 and the place had no name. 
 
IN THE TULES 117 
 
 ' What's your nearest town, then ? ' 
 
 ' Thar ain't any. Thar's a blacksmith's shop 
 and grocery at the cross-roads, twenty miles further 
 on, but it's got no name as I've heard on.' 
 
 The stranger's look of suspicion passed. 
 ' Well,' he said, in an imperative fashion, which, 
 however, seemed as much the result of habit as 
 the occasion, ' I want a horse, and mighty quick, 
 too/ 
 
 ' H'ain't got any.' 
 
 ' No horse ? How did you get to this place ? ' 
 
 Morse pointed to the slumbering oxen. 
 
 The stranger again stared curiously at him. 
 After a pause he said, with a half pitying, half 
 humorous smile : ' Pike aren't you ? ' 
 
 Whether Morse did or did not know that this 
 current Californian slang for a denizen of the 
 bucolic West implied a certain contempt, he replied 
 simply : 
 
 ' I'm from Pike County, Mizzouri.' 
 
 'Well,' said the stranger, resuming his im- 
 patient manner, ' you must beg or steal a horse 
 from your neighbours.' 
 
 ' Thar ain't any neighbour nearer than fifteen 
 miles.' 
 
 ' Then send fifteen miles ! Stop.' He opened 
 his still clinging shirt and drew out a belt pouch, 
 which he threw to Morse. ' There ! there's one 
 
ii8 IN THE TULES 
 
 hundred and fifty dollars in that. Now, I want a 
 horse. Sabe ? ' 
 
 4 Thar ain't anyone to send,' said Morse, 
 quietly. 
 
 ' Do you mean to say you are all alone 
 here ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' And you fished me out all by yourself ? ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 The stranger again examined him curiously. 
 Then he suddenly stretched out his hand and 
 grasped his companion's. 
 
 'All right ; if you can't send, I reckon I can 
 manage to walk over there to-morrow.' 
 
 ' I was goin' on to say,' said Morse, simply, 
 that if you'll lie by to-night, I'll start over sun 
 up, after puttin' out the cattle, and fetch you back 
 a horse afore noon.' 
 
 'That's enough.' He, however, remained 
 looking curiously at Morse. ' Did you never 
 hear,' he said, with a singular smile, ' that it was 
 about the meanest kind of luck that could happen 
 to you to save a drowning man ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Morse, simply. ' I reckon it orter 
 be the meanest if you didrit' 
 
 'That depends upon the man you save,' 
 said the stranger, with the same ambiguous smile, 
 ' and whether the savtn^him is only putting things 
 
IN THE TULES 119 
 
 off. Look here,' he added, with an abrupt return 
 to his imperative style, ' can't you give me some 
 dry clothes ? ' 
 
 Morse brought him a pair of overalls and a . 
 ' hickory shirt,' well worn, but smelling strongly 
 of a recent wash with coarse soap. The stranger 
 put them on while his companion busied himself 
 in collecting a pile of sticks and dry leaves. 
 
 1 What's that for ? ' said the stranger, suddenly. 
 
 ' A fire to dry your clothes.' 
 
 The stranger calmly kicked the pile aside. 
 
 ' Not any fire to-night if I know it,' he said, 
 brusquely. Before Morse could resent his quickly 
 changing moods he continued, in another tone, 
 dropping to an easy reclining position beneath the 
 tree, ' Now, tell me all about yourself, and what 
 you are doing here.' 
 
 Thus commanded, Morse patiently repeated 
 his story from the time he had left his backwoods 
 cabin to his selection of the river bank for a 
 ' location.' He pointed out the rich quality of 
 this alluvial bottom and its adaptability for the 
 raising of stock, which he hoped soon to acquire. 
 The stranger smiled grimly, raised himself to a 
 sitting position, and, taking a penknife from his 
 damp clothes, began to clean his nails in the bright 
 moonlight an occupation which made the simple 
 Morse wander vaguely in his narration. 
 
120 IN THE TULES 
 
 ' And you don't know that this hole will give 
 you chills and fever till you'll shake yourself out 
 of your boots ? ' 
 
 Morse had lived before in aguish districts, and 
 had no fear. 
 
 4 And you never heard that some night the 
 whole river will rise up and walk over you and 
 your cabin and your stock ? ' 
 
 ' No. For I reckon to move my shanty 
 farther back.' 
 
 The man shut up his penknife with a click and 
 rose. 
 
 ' If you've got to get up at sunrise, we'd better 
 be turning in. I suppose you can give me a pair 
 of blankets ? ' 
 
 Morse pointed to the waggon. ' Thar's a 
 shakedown in the waggon bed ; you kin lie there.' 
 Nevertheless he hesitated, and, with the inconse- 
 quence and abruptness of a shy man, continued 
 the previous conversation. 
 
 ' I shouldn't like to move far away, for them 
 steamboats is pow'ful kempany o' nights. I never 
 seed one afore I kem here,' and then, with the in- 
 consistency of a reserved man, and without a word 
 of further preliminary, he launched into a con- 
 fidential disclosure of his late experiences. The 
 stranger listened with a singular interest and a 
 quietly searching eye. 
 
IN THE TULES 121 
 
 ' Then you were watching the boat very closely 
 just now when you saw me. What else clicl you 
 see ? Anything before that before you saw me 
 in the water ? ' 
 
 . ' No the boat had got well off before I saw 
 you at all.' 
 
 'Ah,' said the stranger. 'Well, I'm going 
 to turn in.' He walked to the waggon, mounted 
 it, and by the time that Morse had reached it with 
 his wet clothes he was already wrapped in the 
 blankets. A moment later he seemed to be in a 
 profound slumber. 
 
 It was only then, when his guest was lying 
 helplessly at his mercy, that he began to realise 
 his strange experiences. The domination of this 
 man had been so complete that Morse, although 
 by nature independent and self-reliant, had not 
 permitted himself to question his right or to 
 resent his rudeness. He had accepted his guest's 
 careless or premeditated silence regarding the 
 particulars of his accident as a matter of course, 
 and had never dreamed of questioning him. 
 That it was a natural accident of that great world 
 so apart from his own experiences he clicl not 
 doubt, and thought no more about it. The 
 advent of the man himself was greater to him 
 than the causes which brought him there. He 
 was as yet quite unconscious of the complete 
 
122 IN THE TULES 
 
 fascination this mysterious stranger held over 
 him, but he found himself shyly pleased with 
 even the slight interest he had displayed in his 
 affairs, and his hand felt yet warm and tingling 
 from his sudden soft but expressive grasp, as 
 if it had been a woman's. There is a simple 
 intuition of friendship in some lonely, self-ab- 
 stracted natures that is nearly akin to love at first 
 sight. Even the audacities and insolence of this 
 stranger affected Morse as he might have been 
 touched and captivated by the coquetries or 
 imperiousness of some bucolic virgin. And this 
 reserved and shy frontier-man found himself that 
 night sleepless, and hovering with an abashed 
 timidity and consciousness around the waggon 
 that sheltered his guest as if he had been a very 
 Corydon watching the moonlit couch of some 
 slumbering Amaryllis. 
 
 He was off by daylight after having placed 
 a rude breakfast by the side of the still sleeping 
 guest and before mid-day he had returned with 
 a horse. When he handed the stranger his 
 pouch, less the amount he had paid for the horse, 
 the man said curtly 
 
 ' What's that for ? ' 
 
 ' Your change. I paid only fifty dollars for 
 the horse.' 
 
 The stranger regarded him with his peculiar 
 
IN THE TULES 
 
 123 
 
 smile. Then, replacing- the pouch in his belt, he 
 shook Morse's hand again and mounted the horse. 
 
 r: 
 
 'WELL GOOD-DYE, MORSEY ' 
 
 ' So your name's Martin Morse ! Well- 
 good-bye, Morsey ! ' 
 
 Morse hesitated. A blush rose to his dark 
 
i2 4 IN THE TULES 
 
 cheek. ' You didn't tell me your name,' he said. 
 ' In case 
 
 'In case I'm wanted^. Well, you can call 
 me Captain Jack.' He smiled, and, nodding his 
 head, put spurs to his mustang and cantered 
 away. 
 
 Morse did not do much work that day, falling 
 into abstracted moods and living over his experi- 
 ences of the previous night, until he fancied he 
 could almost see his strange guest again. The 
 narrow strip of meadow was haunted by him. 
 There was the tree under which he had first 
 placed him, and that was where he had seen him 
 sitting up in his dripping but well-fitting clothes. 
 In the rough garments he had worn and returned 
 lingered a new scent of some delicate soap, over- 
 powering the strong alkali flavour of his own. 
 He was early by the river side, having a vague 
 hope, he knew not why, that he should again see 
 him and recognise him among the passengers. 
 He was wading out among the reeds, in the faint 
 light of the rising moon, recalling the exact spot 
 where he had first seen the stranger, when he 
 was suddenly startled by the rolling over in the 
 water of some black object that had caught 
 against the bank, but had been dislodged by his 
 movements. To his horror it bore a faint resem- 
 blance to his first vision of the preceding night. 
 
IN THE TULES 125 
 
 But a second glance at the helplessly Boating hair 
 and bloated outline showed him that it was a 
 dead man, and of a type and build far different 
 from his former companion. There was a bruise 
 upon his matted forehead and an enormous 
 wound in his throat already washed bloodless, 
 white, and waxen. An inexplicable fear came 
 upon him, not at the sight of the corpse, for 
 he had been in Indian massacres and had res- 
 cued bodies mutilated beyond recognition ; but 
 from some moral dread that, strangely enough, 
 quickened and deepened with the far-off pant of 
 the advancing steamboat. Scarcely knowing 
 why, he dragged the body hurriedly ashore, 
 concealing it in the reeds, as if he were disposing 
 of the evidence of his own crime. Then, to his 
 preposterous terror, he noticed that the panting 
 of the steamboat and the beat of its paddles were 
 ' slowing ' as the vague bulk came in sight, until 
 a huge wave from the suddenly arrested wheels 
 sent a surge like an enormous heart-beat pulsating 
 through the sedge that half submerged him. The 
 flashing of three or four lanterns on deck and the 
 motionless line of lights abreast of him dazzled 
 his eyes, but he knew that the low fringe of 
 willows hid his house and waggon completely 
 from view. A vague murmur of voices from the 
 deck was suddenly over-ridden by a sharp order, 
 
IN THE TULES 
 
 and to his relief the slowly revolving wheels 
 again sent a pulsation through the water, and the 
 great fabric moved solemnly away. A sense of 
 relief came over him, he knew not why, and he 
 
 HE EXAMINED THE BODY 
 
 was conscious that for the first time he had not 
 cared to look at the boat. 
 
 When the moon arose he again examined the 
 body, and took from its clothing a few articles of 
 identification and some papers of formality and 
 precision, which he vaguely conjectured to be 
 
IN THE TULES 127 
 
 some law papers from their resemblance to the 
 phrasing of sheriffs' and electors' notices which 
 he had seen in the papers. He then buried 
 the corpse in a shallow trench, which he dug by 
 the light of the moon. He had no question of 
 responsibility ; his pioneer training had not in- 
 cluded coroners' inquests in its experience ; in 
 giving the body a speedy and secure burial from 
 predatory animals he did what one frontier-man 
 would do for another what he hoped might be 
 done for him. If his previous unaccountable feel- 
 ings returned occasionally, it was not from that ; 
 but rather from some uneasiness in regard to his 
 late guest's possible feelings, and a regret that he 
 had not been here at the finding of the body. 
 That it would in some way have explained his 
 own accident he did not doubt. 
 
 The boat did not ' slow up ' the next night, 
 but passed as usual ; yet three or four days 
 elapsed before he could look forward to its coming 
 with his old extravagant and half-exalted curiosity 
 which was his nearest approach to imagination. 
 He was then able to examine it more closely for 
 the appearance of the stranger whom he now 
 began to call ' his friend ' in his verbal commun- 
 ings with himself, but whom he did not seem 
 destined to again discover ; until one day, to his 
 astonishment, a couple of fine horses were brought 
 
128 IN THE TULES 
 
 to his clearing by a stock-drover. They hacl been 
 'ordered' to be left there. In vain Morse ex- 
 postulated and questioned. 
 
 ' Your name's Martin Morse, ain't it ? ' said 
 the clrover, with business brusqueness ; ' and I 
 reckon there ain't no other man o' that name 
 around here ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Morse. 
 
 ' Well, then, they're yours.' 
 
 1 But who sent them ? ' insisted Morse. 
 ' What was his name, and where does he live ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't know ez I was called upon to give 
 the pedigree o' buyers,' said the clrover drily ; 
 'but the horses is " Morgan," you can bet your 
 life.' He grinned as he rode away. 
 
 That Captain Jack sent them, and that it was 
 a natural prelude to his again visiting him, Morse 
 did not doubt, and for a few days he lived in that 
 dream. But Captain Jack did not come. The 
 animals were of great service to him in ' rounding 
 up ' the stock he now easily took in for pasturage, 
 and saved him the necessity of having a partner or 
 a hired man. The idea that this superior gentle- 
 man in fine clothes might ever appear to him in 
 the former capacity had even flitted through his 
 brain, but he had rejected it with a sigh. But the 
 thought that, with luck and industry, he himself 
 might, in course of time, approximate to Captain 
 
IN THE TULES 129 
 
 Jack's evident station, did occur to him, and was 
 an incentive to energy. Yet it was quite distinct 
 from the ordinary working-man's ambition of 
 wealth and state. It was only that it might make 
 him more worthy of his friend. The great world 
 was still as it had appeared to him in the passing- 
 boat a thing to wonder at to be above and to 
 criticise. 
 
 For all that, he prospered in his occupation. 
 But one clay he woke with listless limbs and 
 feet that scarcely carried him through his daily 
 labours. At night his listlessness changed to 
 active pain and a feverishness that seemed to 
 impel him towards the fateful river, as if his one 
 aim in life was to drink up its waters and bathe 
 in its yellow stream. But whenever he seemed 
 to attempt it strange dreams assailed him of dead 
 bodies arising with swollen and distorted lips to 
 touch his own as he strove to drink, or of his 
 mysterious guest battling with him in its current, 
 and driving him ashore. Again, when he essayed 
 to bathe his parched and crackling limbs in its 
 flood, he would be confronted with the dazzling 
 lights of the motionless steamboat and the glare of 
 stony eyes until he fled in aimless terror. How 
 long this lasted he knew not, until one morning 
 he awoke in his new cabin with a strange man 
 
 o 
 
 sitting by his bed and a negress in the doorway. 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 IN THE TULES 
 
 1 You've had a sharp attack of " tule fever," 
 said the stranger, dropping Morse's listless 
 
 WHO ARE YOU ?' 
 
 wrist and answering his questioning eyes ; * but 
 you're all right now, and will pull through.' 
 
 ' Who are you ? ' stammered Morse feebly. 
 
 * Dr. Duchesne, of Sacramento.' 
 
IN THE TULES 131 
 
 ' How did you come here ? ' 
 
 ' 1 was ordered to come to you and bring a 
 nurse, as you were alone. There she is.' He 
 pointed to the smiling negress: 
 
 ' Who ordered you ? ' 
 
 The doctor smiled with professional tolerance. 
 ' One of your friends, of course.' 
 
 ' But what was his name ? ' 
 
 ' Really I don't remember. But don't distress 
 yourself. He has settled for everything right 
 royally. You have only to get strong now. My 
 duty is ended, and I can safely leave you with 
 the nurse. Only when you are strong again, I 
 say and he says keep back farther from the 
 river.' 
 
 And that was all he knew. For even the 
 nurse who attended him through the first days of 
 his brief convalescence would tell him nothing- 
 more. He quickly got rid of her and resumed 
 his work, for a new and strange phase of his 
 simple, childish affection for his benefactor, partly 
 superinduced by his illness, was affecting him. 
 He was beginning to feel the pain of an unequal 
 friendship ; he was dimly conscious that his 
 mysterious guest was only coldly returning his 
 hospitality and benefits, while holding aloof from 
 any association with him and indicating the im- 
 measurable distance that separated their future 
 
 K 2 
 
1 32 IN THE TULES 
 
 intercourse. He had withheld any kind message 
 or sympathetic greeting- ; he had kept back even 
 his name. The shy, proud, ignorant heart of the 
 frontiersman swelled beneath the fancied slight, 
 which left him helpless alike of reproach or resent- 
 ment. He could not return the horses, although 
 in a fit of childish indignation he had resolved 
 not to use them ; he could not reimburse him for 
 the doctor's bill, although he had sent away the 
 nurse. 
 
 He took a foolish satisfaction in not moving 
 back from the river, with a faint hope that his 
 ignoring of Captain Jack's advice might mysteri- 
 ously be conveyed to him. He even thought of 
 selling out his location and abandoning it, that he 
 might escape the cold surveillance of his heartless 
 friend. All this was undoubtedly childish but 
 there is an irrepressible simplicity of youth in all 
 deep feeling, and the worldly inexperience of the 
 frontiersman left him as innocent as a child. In 
 this phase of his unrequited affection he even 
 went so far as to seek some news of Captain Jack 
 at Sacramento, and, following out his foolish 
 quest, to even take the steamboat from thence to 
 Stockton. 
 
 What happened to him then was perhaps the 
 common experience of such natures. Once upon 
 the boat the illusion of the great world it con- 
 
IN THE TULES 133 
 
 tained for him utterly vanished. He found it 
 noisy, formal, insincere, and had he ever under- 
 stood or used the word in his limited vocabulary 
 vulgar. Rather, perhaps, it seemed to him 
 that the prevailing sentiment and action of those 
 who frequented it and for whom it was built 
 were of a lower i>Tacle than his own. And, 
 
 o 
 
 strangely enough, this gave him none of his 
 former sense of critical superiority, but only of his 
 own utter and complete isolation. He wandered 
 in his rough frontiersman's clothes from deck to 
 cabin, from airy galleries to long saloons, alone, 
 unchallenged, unrecognised, as if he were again 
 haunting it only in spirit, as he had so often done 
 in his dreams. 
 
 His presence on the fringe of some voluble 
 crowd caused no interruption ; to him their speech 
 was almost foreign in its allusions to things he 
 did not understand, or, worse, seemed inconsistent 
 with their eagerness and excitement. How 
 different from all this was his old recollections of the 
 slowly oncoming teams, uplifted above the level 
 horizon of the plains in his former wanderings ; 
 the few sauntering figures that met him as man to 
 man, and exchanged the chronicle of the road ; 
 the record of Indian tracks ; the finding of a 
 spring ; the discovery of pasturage, with the lazy, 
 restful hospitality of the night ! And how fierce 
 
i 3 4 IN THE TULES 
 
 here this continual struggle for dominance and 
 existence, even in this lull of passage. For 
 above all and through all he was conscious of the 
 feverish haste of speed and exertion. 
 
 The boat trembled, vibrated, and shook with 
 every stroke of the ponderous piston. The 
 laughter of the crowd, the exchange of gossip and 
 news, the banquet at the long table, the news- 
 papers and books in the reading-room, even the 
 luxurious couches in the state-rooms, were all 
 dominated, thrilled, and pulsating with the per- 
 petual throb of the demon of hurry and unrest. 
 And when at last a horrible fascination dragged 
 him into the engine-room, and he saw the cruel 
 relentless machinery at work, he seemed to recog- 
 nise and understand some intelligent but pitiless 
 Moloch, who was dragging this feverish world at 
 its heels. 
 
 Later he was seated in a corner of the hurri- 
 cane deck, whence he could view the monotonous 
 banks of the river ; yet, perhaps by certain signs 
 unobservable to others, he knew he was approach- 
 ing his own locality. He knew that his cabin and 
 clearing would be undiscernible behind the fringe 
 of willows on the bank, but he already dis- 
 tinguished the points where a few cottonwoocls 
 struggled into a promontory of lighter foliage 
 beyond them. Here voices fell upon his ear, and 
 
IN THE TULES 
 
 135 
 
 he was suddenly aware that two men had lazily 
 crossed over from the other side of the boat, and 
 were standing before him looking upon the bank. 
 
 'IT WAS ABOUT HKRK, I RECKON' 
 
 ' It was about here, I reckon,' said one, list- 
 lessly, as if continuing a previous lagging conversa- 
 tion, ' that it must have happened. For it was 
 
136 IN THE TULES 
 
 after we were making for the bencl we've just 
 passed that the deputy, goin' to the state room 
 below us, found the door locked and the window 
 open. But both men Jack Despard and Seth 
 Hall, the sheriff weren't to be found. Not a 
 trace of 'em. The boat was searched, but all for 
 nothing. The idea is that the sheriff, arter getting 
 his prisoner comf'ble in the state-room, took off 
 Jack's handcuffs and locked the door ; that Jack, 
 who was mighty desp'rate, bolted through the 
 window into the river, and the sheriff, who was 
 no slouch, arter him. Others allow for the chairs 
 and things was all tossed about in the state-room 
 that the two men clinched thar, and Jack choked 
 Hall and chucked him out, and then slipped 
 cl'ar into the water himself, for the state-room 
 window was just ahead of the paddle-box, and the 
 cap'n allows that no man or men could fall afore 
 the paddles and live. Anyhow, that was all they 
 ever knew of it.' 
 
 ' And there wasn't no trace of them found ? ' 
 said the second man, after a long pause. 
 
 ' No. Cap'n says them paddles would hev' 
 just snatched 'em and slung 'em round and round 
 and buried 'em 'way down in the ooze of the river 
 bed, with all the silt of the current atop of 'em, and 
 they mightn't come up for ages ; or else the wheels 
 might have waltzed 'em 'way up to Sacramento 
 
IN THE TULES 137 
 
 until there wasn't enough left of 'em to float, and 
 dropped 'em when the boat stopped.' 
 
 ' It was a mighty fool risk for a man like 
 Desparcl to take,' resumed the second speaker as 
 he turned away with a slight yawn. 
 
 ' Bet your life ! but he was clesp'rate, and the 
 sheriff had got him sure ! And they do say that 
 he was superstitious, like all them gamblers, and 
 allowed that a man who was fixed to die by a 
 rope or a pistol wasn't to be washed out of life by 
 water.' 
 
 The two figures drifted lazily away, but Morse 
 sat rigid and motionless. Yet, strange to say, 
 only one idea came to him clearly out of this awful 
 revelation the thought that his friend was still 
 true to him and that his strange absence and 
 mysterious silence were fully accounted for and 
 explained. And with it came the more thrilling 
 fancy that this man was alive now to him alone. 
 
 He was the sole custodian of his secret. The 
 morality of the question, while it profoundly 
 disturbed him, was rather in reference to its effect 
 upon the chances of Captain Jack and the power 
 it gave his enemies than his own conscience. He 
 would rather that his friend should have proven 
 the prescribed outlaw who retained an unselfish 
 interest in him than the superior gentleman who 
 was coldly wiping out his gratitude. Rethought 
 
138 IN THE TULES 
 
 he understood now the reason of his visitor's 
 strange and varying moods even his bitter super- 
 stitious warning in regard to the probable curse 
 entailed upon one who should save a drowning man. 
 Of this he recked little ; enough that he fancied 
 
 ' O 
 
 that Captain Jack's concern in his illness was 
 heightened by that fear, and this assurance of his 
 protecting friendship thrilled him with pleasure. 
 
 There was no reason now why he should 
 not at once go back to his farm, where, at least, 
 Captain Jack would always find him ; and he did 
 so, returning on the same boat. He was now 
 fully recovered from his illness, and calmer in 
 mind ; he redoubled his labours to put himself in 
 a position to help the mysterious fugitive when 
 the time should come. The remote farm should 
 always be a haven of refuge for him, and in this 
 hope he forbore to take any outside help, remain- 
 ing solitary and alone that Captain Jack's retreat 
 should be inviolate. And so the long, dry 
 season passed, the hay was gathered, the pasturing 
 herds sent home, and the first rains, dimpling like 
 shot the broadening surface of the river, were all 
 that broke his unending solitude. In this enforced 
 attitude of waiting and expectancy he was exalted 
 and strengthened by a new idea. He was not a 
 religious man, but dimly remembering the exhorta- 
 tions of some camp meeting of his boyhood, he 
 
IN THE TULES 139 
 
 conceived the idea that he might have been 
 selected to work out the regeneration of Captain 
 Jack. What might not come of this meeting and 
 communing together in this lonely spot ? That 
 anything was clue to the memory of the murdered 
 sheriff, whose bones were rotting in the trench that 
 he daily but unconcernedly passed, did not occur to 
 him. Perhaps his mind was not large enough for 
 the double consideration. Friendship and love 
 and, for the matter of that, religion are eminently 
 one-ideaed. 
 
 But one night he awakened with a start. His 
 hand, which was hanging out of his bunk, was 
 dabbling idly in water. He had barely time to 
 spring to his middle in what seemed to be a slowly 
 filling tank before the door fell out as from that 
 inward pressure, and his whole shanty collapsed 
 like a pack of cards. But it fell outwards, the 
 roof sliding from over his head like a withdrawn 
 canopy ; and he was swept from his feet against it, 
 and thence out into what might have been another 
 world ! For the rain had ceased, and the full moon 
 revealed only one vast, illimitable expanse of 
 water ! It was not an overflow, but the whole 
 rushing river magnified and repeated a thousand 
 times, which, even as he gasped for breath and 
 clung to the roof, was bearing him away he knew 
 not whither. But it was bearing him away upon 
 
1 40 IN THE TULES 
 
 its centre, for as he cast one swift glance towards 
 his meadows he saw they were covered by the 
 same sweeping torrent, dotted with his sailing 
 hay-ricks and reaching to the wooded foothills. 
 It was the great flood of '54. In its awe-inspiring 
 completeness it might have seemed to him the 
 primeval Deluge. 
 
 As his frail raft swept under a cottonwood he 
 caught at one of the overhanging limbs, and, 
 working his way desperately along the bough, at 
 last reached a secure position in the fork of the 
 tree. Here he was for the moment safe. But 
 the devastation viewed from this height was only 
 the more appalling. Every sign of his clearing, all 
 evidence of his past year's industry, had disap- 
 peared. He was now conscious for the first time 
 of the lowing of the few cattle he had kept as, 
 huddled together on a slight eminence, they one 
 by one slipped over struggling into the flood. The 
 shining bodies of his dead horses rolled by him as 
 he gazed. The lower-lying limbs of the sycamore 
 near him were bending with the burden of the 
 lighter articles from his overturned waggon and 
 cabin which they had caught and retained, and 
 a rake was securely lodged in a bough. The 
 habitual solitude of his locality was now strangely 
 invaded by drifting sheds, agricultural implements 
 and fence rails from unknown and remote neigh- 
 
IN THE TULES 
 
 141 
 
 hours, and he could faintly hear the far-off calling 
 of some unhappy farmer adrift upon a spar of his 
 
 r 
 
 HE REACHED A SECURE POSITION IN THE FORK 
 OF THE TREE 
 
 wrecked and shattered house. When clay broke 
 he was cold and hungry. 
 
142 IN THE TULES 
 
 Hours passed in hopeless monotony, with no 
 slackening or diminution of the waters. Even 
 the drifts became less, and a vacant sea at last 
 spread before him on which nothing moved. An 
 awful silence impressed him. In the afternoon 
 rain again began to fall on this grey, nebulous 
 expanse, until the whole world seemed made of 
 aqueous vapour. He had but one idea now the 
 coming of the evening boat, and he would reserve 
 his strength to swim to it. He did not know until 
 later that it could no longer follow the old 
 channel of the river, and passed far beyond his 
 sight and hearing. With his disappointment and 
 exposure that night came a return of his old fever. 
 His limbs were alternately racked with pain or 
 benumbed and lifeless. He could scarcely retain 
 his position at times he scarcely cared to and 
 speculated upon ending his sufferings by a quick 
 plunge downwards. In other moments of lucid 
 misery he was conscious of having wandered in 
 his mind ; of having seen the dead face of the 
 murdered sheriff, washed out of his shallow grave 
 by the flood, staring at him from the water ; to 
 this was added the hallucination of noises. He 
 heard voices, his own name called by a voice he 
 knew Captain Jack's ! 
 
 Suddenly he started, but in that fatal move- 
 ment lost his balance and plunged downwards. 
 
IN THE TULES 143 
 
 But before the water closed above his head he 
 had had a cruel glimpse of help near him ; of a 
 flashing light of the black hull of a tug not many 
 yards away of moving figures the sensation of 
 a sudden plunge following his own, the grip of 
 a strong hand upon his collar, and unconscious- 
 ness ! 
 
 When he came to he was being lifted in a 
 boat from the tug and rowed through the deserted 
 streets of a large city, until he was taken in 
 through the second-story window of a half-sub- 
 merged hotel and cared for. But all his questions 
 yielded only the information that the tug a 
 privately procured one, not belonging to the 
 Public Relief Association had been despatched 
 for him with special directions, by a man who 
 acted as one of the crew, and who was the one 
 who had plunged in for him at the last moment. 
 The man had left the boat at Stockton. There 
 was nothing more ? Yes ! he had left a letter. 
 Morse seized it feverishly. It contained only a 
 few lines : 
 
 ' We are quits now. You are all right. I 
 have saved you from drowning, and shifted the 
 curse to my own shoulders. Good-bye. 
 
 " CAPTAIN JACK." 
 
 The astounded man attempted to rise to 
 utter an exclamation but fell back, unconscious. 
 
144 IN THE TULES 
 
 Weeks passed before he was able to leave his 
 bed and then only as an impoverished and phy- 
 sically shattered man. He had no means to re- 
 stock the farm left bare by the subsiding water. 
 A kindly train-packer offered him a situation as 
 muleteer in a pack-train going to the mountains 
 for he knew tracks and passes and could ride. 
 The mountains gave him back a little of the 
 vigour he had lost in the river valley, but none of 
 its dreams and ambitions. One clay, while track- 
 ing a lost mule, he stopped to slake his thirst in a 
 water-hole all that the summer had left of a 
 lonely mountain torrent. Enlarging the hole to give 
 drink to his beast also, he was obliged to dislodge 
 and throw out with the red soil some bits of 
 honeycomb rock, which were so queer-looking 
 and so heavy as to attract his attention. Two of 
 the largest he took back to camp with him. They 
 were gold. From the locality he took out a 
 fortune. Nobody wondered. To the Californian's 
 superstition it was perfectly natural. It was 
 ' nigger luck ' the luck of the stupid, the ignorant, 
 the inexperienced, the non-seeker the irony of 
 the gods ! 
 
 But the simple, bucolic nature that had sus- 
 tained itself against temptation with patient in- 
 dustry and lonely self-concentration succumbed 
 to rapidly acquired wealth. So it chanced that 
 
IN THE TULES 145 
 
 one day, with a crowd of excitement-loving spend- 
 thrifts and companions, he found himself on the 
 outskirts of a lawless mountain town. An eager 
 frantic crowd had already assembled there a 
 desperado was to be lynched ! Pushing his way 
 through the crowd for a nearer view of the 
 exciting spectacle, the changed and reckless 
 Morse was stopped by armed men only at the 
 foot of a cart, which upheld a quiet, determined 
 man, who, with a rope around his neck, was 
 scornfully surveying the mob, that held the other 
 end of the rope drawn across the limb of a tree 
 above him. The eyes of the doomed man caught 
 those of Morse his expression changed a kindly 
 smile lit his face he bowed his proud head for 
 the first time, with an easy gesture of farewell. 
 
 And then, with a cry, Morse threw himself 
 upon the nearest armed guard, and a fierce 
 struggle began. He had overpowered one 
 adversary and seized another in his hopeless fight 
 towards the cart when the half-astonished crowd 
 felt that something must be done. It was clone 
 with a sharp report, the upward curl of smoke and 
 the falling back of the guard as Morse staggered 
 forward free with a bullet in his heart. Yet 
 even then he did not fall until he reached the cart, 
 when he lapsed forward, dead, with his arms out- 
 
 L 
 
i 4 6 
 
 IN THE TULES 
 
 stretched and his head at the doomed man's 
 feet. 
 
 There was something- so supreme and all- 
 powerful in this hopeless act of devotion that the 
 
 MORbE STAGGERED FORWARD 
 
 heart of the multitude thrilled and then recoiled 
 aghast at its work, and a single word or a gesture 
 from the doomed man himself would have set him 
 
IN THE TULES 147 
 
 free. But they say and it is credibly recorded 
 that as Captain Jack Despard looked down upon 
 the hopeless sacrifice at his feet his eyes blazed, 
 and he flung upon the crowd a curse so awful and 
 sweeping that, hardened as they were, their blood 
 ran cold, and then leaped furiously to their 
 cheeks. 
 
 ' And now,' he said, coolly tightening- the rope 
 around his neck with a jerk of his head ' Go on, 
 and be cl cl to you ! I'm ready.' 
 
 They did not hesitate this time. And Martin 
 Morse and Captain Jack Desparcl were buried in 
 the same grave. 
 
 L 2 
 
148 
 
 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 HE largest tent of the 
 Tasajara Camp meeting 
 was crowded to its utmost 
 extent. The excitement of 
 that dense mass was at 
 its highest pitch. The 
 Reverend Stephen Mas- 
 terton, the single erect, 
 passionate figure of that 
 
 confused medley of kneeling worshippers, had 
 reached the culminating pitch of his irresistible 
 exhortatory power. Sighs and groans were 
 beginning to respond to his appeals when the 
 reverend brother was seen to lurch heavily 
 forward and fall to the ground. 
 
 At first the effect was that of a part of his 
 performance ; the groans redoubled, and twenty 
 or thirty brethren threw themselves prostrate 
 in humble imitation of the preacher. But Sister 
 Deborah Stokes, perhaps through some special 
 revelation of feminine intuition, grasped the fallen 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 149 
 
 man, tore loose his black silk necktie, and dragged 
 him free of the struggling, frantic crowd whose 
 paroxysms he had just evoked. Howbeit he was 
 pale and unconscious, and unable to continue 
 the service. Even the next day, when he had 
 
 
 STEPHEN MASTERTON 
 
 slightly recovered, it was found that any attempt 
 to renew his fervid exhortations produced the 
 same disastrous result. 
 
 A council was hurriedly held by the elders. 
 
ico A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 In spite of the energetic protests of Sister Stokes, 
 it was held that the Lord ' was wrestlin' with his 
 sperrit,' and he was subjected to the same extra- 
 ordinary treatment from the whole congregation 
 that he himself had applied to them. Propped up 
 pale and trembling in the 'Mourners' Bench' by 
 two Brethren, he was ' striven with,' exhorted, 
 prayed over, and admonished, until insensibility 
 mercifully succeeded convulsions. Spiritual thera- 
 peutics having failed, he was turned over to the 
 weak and carnal nursing of ' women folk.' But 
 after a month of incapacity he was obliged to 
 yield to 'the flesh,' and, in the local dialect, 'to 
 use a doctor.' 
 
 It so chanced that the medical practitioner of 
 the district was a man of large experience, of 
 military training, and plain speech. When, there- 
 fore, he one clay found in his surgery a man 
 of rude Western type, strong limbed and sun- 
 burned, but trembling, hesitating and neurotic in 
 movement, after listening to his symptoms 
 gravely, he asked, abruptly : ' And how much 
 are you drinking now ? ' 
 
 ' I am a life-long abstainer,' stammered his 
 patient in quivering indignation. But this was 
 followed by another question so frankly appalling 
 to the hearer that he staggered to his feet. 
 
 'I'm Stephen Masterton known of men as 
 
A CONVERT OF THP2 MISSION 151 
 
 a Circuit Preacher, of the Northern California 
 district,' he thundered 'and an enemy of the 
 flesh in all its forms.' 
 
 k I beg your pardon/ responded Dr. Duchesne, 
 grimly, l but as you are suffering from excessive 
 and repeated excitation of the nervous system, 
 and the depression following prolonged artificial 
 exaltation it makes little difference whether the 
 cause be spiritual, as long as there is a certain 
 physical effect upon your body, which I believe 
 you have brought to me to cure. Now as to 
 diet ? you look all wrong there.' 
 
 1 My food is of the simplest I have no 
 hankering for flesh-pots,' responded the patient. 
 
 1 I suppose you call Saleratus bread and salt 
 pork and flap jacks simple ? ' said the doctor, 
 coolly ; ' they are common enough, and if you 
 were working with your muscles instead of your 
 nerves in that frame of yours they might not hurt 
 you ; but you are suffering as much from eating 
 more than you can digest as the veriest gourmand. 
 You must stop all that. Go clown to a quiet 
 watering place for two months. . . .' 
 
 ' / go to a watering place ? ' interrupted 
 Masterton ; ' to the haunt of the idle, the frivolous 
 and wanton never ! ' 
 
 'Well, I'm not particular about a "watering- 
 place," ' said the doctor, with a shrug, 'although a 
 
152 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 little idleness and frivolity with different food 
 wouldn't hurt you but you must go somewhere 
 and change your habits and mode of life com- 
 pletely. I will find you some sleepy old Spanish 
 town in the Southern county where you can rest 
 and diet. If this is distasteful to you,' he con- 
 tinued, grimly, 'you can always call it " a trial." 
 
 Stephen Masterton may have thought it so 
 when, a week later, he found himself issuing from a 
 rocky gorge into a rough, badly paved, hilly street, 
 which seemed to be only a continuation of the 
 mountain road itself. It broadened suddenly into 
 a square or plaza, flanked on each side by an 
 irregular row of yellowing adobe houses, with the 
 inevitable verandahecl tienda in each corner, and 
 the solitary, galleried fonda, with a half Moorish 
 archway leading into an inner patio or courtyard 
 in the centre. 
 
 The whole street stopped as usual at the very 
 door of the Mission Church, a few hundred yards 
 further on, and under the shadow of the tw r o 
 belfry towers at each angle of the facade, as if 
 this were the iiltima tlmle of every traveller. 
 But all that the eye rested on was ruined, worn, 
 and crumbling. The adobe houses were cracked 
 by the incessant sunshine of the half-year long 
 summer, or the more intermittent earthquake 
 shock ; the paved courtyard of the fonda was so 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 153 
 
 uneven and sunken in the centre that the lumber- 
 mo- wao-o-on and faded diligencia stood on an 
 
 o oo o 
 
 incline, and the mules with difficulty kept their 
 footing while being unladen ; the whitened plaster 
 had fallen from the feet of the two pillars that 
 flanked the Mission doorway, like bandages from 
 a gouty limb, leaving the reddish core of adobe 
 visible ; there were apparently as many broken 
 tiles in the streets and alleys as there were on 
 the heavy red roofs that everywhere asserted 
 themselves and even seemed to slide down the 
 crumbling walls to the Around. There were 
 
 o < 
 
 hopeless gaps in grille and grating of doorways 
 and windows, where the iron bars had dropped 
 helplessly out, or were bent at different angles. 
 The walls of the peaceful Mission garden and the 
 warlike Presidio were alike lost in the escalacling 
 vines or levelled by the pushing boughs of 
 gnarled pear and olive trees that now surmounted 
 them. The dust lay thick and impalpable in 
 hollow and gutter, and rose in little vapoury 
 clouds with a soft detonation at every stroke of 
 his horse's hoofs. Over all this dust and ruin idle- 
 ness seemed to reign supreme. From the velvet- 
 jacketed figures lounging motionless in the shadows 
 of the open doorways so motionless that only 
 the lazy drift of cigarette smoke betokened their 
 breathing to the reclining peons in the shade of 
 
15* A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 a catalpa, or the squatting- Indians in the arroyo 
 all was sloth and dirt. 
 
 The Rev. Stephen Masterton felt his throat 
 swell with his old exhortative indignation. A 
 gaudy yellow fan waved languidly in front of a 
 black rose-crested head at a white-curtained 
 window. He knew he was stifling with righteous 
 wrath, and clapped his spurs to his horse. 
 
 Nevertheless in a few days, by the aid of a 
 letter to the innkeeper, he was installed in a 
 dilapidated adobe house, not unlike those he had 
 seen, but situated in the outskirts, and overlook- 
 ing the garden and part of the refectory of the 
 old Mission. It had even a small garden of its 
 own if a strip of hot wall, overburdened with 
 yellow and white roses, a dozen straggling callas, 
 a bank of heliotrope, and an almond tree could 
 be called a garden. It had an open doorway, 
 but so heavily recessed in the thick walls that it 
 preserved seclusion, a sitting-room, and an alcoved 
 bed-room with deep embrasured windows, that, 
 how r ever, excluded the unwinking sunlight and 
 kept an even monotone of shade. 
 
 Strange to say, he found it cool, restful, and, 
 in spite of the dust, absolutely clean, and, but for 
 the scent of heliotrope, entirely inodorous. The 
 dry air seemed to dissipate all noxious emanations 
 and decay the very dust itself in its fine im- 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 155 
 
 palpability was volatile with a spice-like piquancy, 
 and left no stain. 
 
 A wrinkled Indian woman, brown and veined 
 like a tobacco leaf, ministered to his simple wants. 
 But these wants had also been regulated by Dr. 
 Duchesne. He found himself, with some grave 
 doubts of his effeminacy, breakfasting on a single 
 cup of chocolate instead of his usual bowl of 
 molasses-sweetened coffee ; crumbling a crisp 
 tortilla instead of the heavy Saleratus bread, 
 greasy flap-jack, or the lard-fried steak, and, 
 more wonderful still, completing his repast with 
 purple grapes from the Mission wall. He could 
 not deny that it was simple that it was even 
 refreshing and consistent with the climate and his 
 surroundings. On the other hand, it was the 
 frugal diet of the commonest peasant and were 
 not those peons slothful idolaters ? 
 
 At the end of the week his correspondence 
 being also restricted by his doctor to a few lines 
 to himself regarding his progress he wrote to 
 that adviser : 
 
 'The trembling and unquiet have almost 
 ceased; I have less nightly turmoil and visions ; 
 my carnal appetite seems to be amply mollified and 
 soothed by these viands, whatever may be their 
 ultimate effect upon the weakness of our common 
 sinful nature, But I should not be truthful to 
 
156 
 
 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 you if I did not warn you that I am viewing with 
 the deepest spiritual concern a decided tendency 
 
 COMPLETING 
 
 [S REPAST WITH PURPLE GRAPES FROM 
 THE MISSION WALL 
 
 towards sloth, and a folding of the hands over 
 matters that often, I fear, are spiritual as well as 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 157 
 
 temporal. I would ask you to consider, in a 
 spirit of love, if it be not wise to rouse my 
 apathetic flesh, so as to strive, even with the 
 feeblest exhortations against this sloth in others 
 if only to keep oneself from falling" into the pit 
 of easy indulgence.' 
 
 What answer he received is not known, but it 
 is to be presumed that he kept loyal faith with 
 his physician, and gave himself up to simple walks 
 and rides and occasional meditation. His soli- 
 tude was not broken upon ; curiosity was too 
 active a vice, and induced too much exertion for 
 his indolent neighbours, and the Americano s 
 basking seclusion, though unlike the habits of his 
 countrymen, did not affect them. The shop- 
 keeper and innkeeper saluted him always with a 
 profound courtesy which awakened his slight 
 resentment, partly because he was conscious that 
 it was grateful to him, and partly that he felt he 
 ought to have provoked in them a less satisfied 
 condition. 
 
 Once, when he had unwittingly passed the 
 confines of his own garden, through a gap in the 
 Mission orchard, a lissome, black-coated shadow 
 slipped past him with an obeisance so profound 
 and gentle that he was startled at first into an 
 awkward imitation of it himself, and then into an 
 angry self-examination. He knew that he loathed 
 
158 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 that long-skirted, woman-like garment, that 
 dangling, ostentatious symbol, that air of secrecy 
 and mystery, and he inflated his chest above his 
 loosely tied cravat and unbuttoned waistcoat with 
 a contrasted sense of freedom. But he was con- 
 scious the next day of weakly avoiding a recur- 
 rence of this meeting, and in his self-examination 
 put it down to his self-disciplined observance 
 of his doctor's orders. But when he was strong 
 again, and fitted for his Master's work, how 
 strenuously he should improve the occasion this 
 gave him of attacking the Scarlet Woman among 
 her slaves and worshippers ! 
 
 His afternoon meditations and the perusal of 
 his only book the Bible were regularly broken 
 in upon at about sunset by two or three strokes 
 from the cracked bell that hung in the open belfry 
 which reared itself beyond the gnarled pear trees. 
 He could not say that it was aggressive or persis- 
 tent, like his own church bells, nor that it even 
 expressed to him any religious sentiment. More- 
 over, it was not a ' Sabbath ' bell, but a daily one, 
 and even then seemed to be only a signal to ears 
 easily responsive, rather than a stern reminder. 
 And the hour was always a singularly witching 
 one. 
 
 It was when the sun had slipped from the 
 glaring red roofs, and the yellowing adobe of the 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 159 
 
 Mission walls and the tall ranks of wild oats on 
 the hillside were all of the one colour of old gold. 
 It was when the quivering" heat of the arroyo and 
 dusty expanse of plaza were blending with the soft 
 breath of the sea fog that crept through the clefts 
 of the coast range, until a refreshing balm seemed 
 to fall like a benediction on all nature. It was 
 when the trade-wincl-swept and irritated surfaces 
 of the rocky gorge beyond were soothed with 
 clinging vapours ; when the pines above no longer 
 rocked monotonously, and the great undulating- 
 sea of the wild oat plains had gone down and was 
 at rest. It was at this hour, one afternoon, that, 
 with the released scents of the garden, there came 
 to him a strange and subtle perfume that was 
 new to his senses. He laid aside his book, went 
 into the garden, and, half-unconscious of his 
 trespass, passed through the Mission orchard and 
 thence into the little churchyard beside the 
 church. 
 
 Looking at the strange inscriptions in an 
 unfamiliar tongue, he was singularly touched with 
 the few cheap memorials lying upon the graves- 
 like childish toys and for the moment overlooked 
 the papistic emblems that accompanied them. It 
 struck him vaguely that Death, the common 
 leveller, had made even the symbols of a faith 
 eternal, inferior to those simple records of undying 
 
i6o A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 memory and affection, and he was for a moment 
 startled into doubt. 
 
 He walked to the door of the church : to 
 his surprise it was open. Standing upon the 
 threshold he glanced inside, and stood for a mo- 
 ment utterly bewildered. In a man of refined taste 
 and education that bizarre and highly coloured 
 interior would have only provoked a smile or 
 shrug ; to Stephen Masterton's highly emotional 
 nature, but artistic inexperience, strangely enough 
 it was profoundly impressive. The heavily 
 timbered roughly hewn roof, barred with alternate 
 bands of blue and Indian red, the crimson hang- 
 ings, the gold and black draperies, affected this 
 religious backwoodsman exactly as they were 
 designed to affect the heathen and acolytes for 
 whose conversion the temple had been reared. 
 He could scarcely take his eyes from the tinsel- 
 crowned Mother of Heaven, resplendent in white 
 and gold and glittering with jewels ; the radiant 
 shield before the Host, illuminated by tall spectral 
 candles in the mysterious obscurity of the altar, 
 dazzled him like the rayed disc of the setting 
 sun. 
 
 A gentle murmur, as of the distant sea, came 
 from the altar. In his naive bewilderment he had 
 not seen the few kneeling figures in the shadow 
 of column and aisle ; it was not until a man, whom 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 161 
 
 he recognised as a muleteer he had seen that 
 afternoon gambling and drinking in the fonda, 
 slipped by him like a shadow and sank upon his 
 knees in the centre of the aisle that he realised 
 the overpowering truth. 
 
 He, Stephen Masterton, was looking upon 
 some rite of Popish idolatry ! He was turning 
 quickly away when the keeper of the tienda a 
 man of sloth and sin gently approached him from 
 the shadow of a column with a mute gesture, 
 which he took to be one of invitation. A fierce 
 protest of scorn and indignation swelled to his 
 throat, but died upon his lips. Yet he had 
 strength enough to erect his gaunt emaciated 
 figure, throwing out his long arms and extended 
 palms in the attitude of defiant exorcism, and then 
 rush swiftly from the church. As he did so he 
 thought he saw a faint smile cross the shop- 
 keeper's face, and a whispered exchange of 
 words with a neighbouring worshipper of more 
 exalted appearance came to his ears. But it was 
 not intelligible to his comprehension. 
 
 The next day he wrote to his doctor in that 
 quaint grandiloquence of written speech with 
 which the half-educated man balances the slips of 
 his colloquial phrasing : 
 
 ' Do not let the purgation of my flesh be 
 unduly protracted. What with the sloth and 
 
 M 
 
162 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 idolatries of Baal and Ashtaroth, which I see 
 daily around me, I feel that without a protest not 
 only the flesh but the spirit is mortified. But my 
 bodily strength is mercifully returning, and I 
 found myself yesterday able to take a long ride at 
 that hour which they here keep sacred for an 
 idolatrous rite, under the beautiful name of " The 
 Angelus." Thus clo they bear false witness to 
 Him! Can you tell me the meaning of the 
 Spanish words, " Don Keyhotter ? " I am igno- 
 rant of these sensuous Southern languages, and 
 am aware that this is not the correct spelling, but 
 I have striven to give the phonetic equivalent. 
 It was used, I am inclined to think, in reference 
 to myself, by an idolater. 
 
 ' P.S. You need not trouble yourself. I have 
 just ascertained that the words in question were 
 simply the title of an idle novel, and, of course, 
 could not possibly refer to me' 
 
 Howbeit it was as ' Don Quixote ' i.e., the 
 common Spaniard's conception of the Knight of 
 La Mancha, merely the simple fanatic and mad- 
 man that Mr. Stephen Masterton ever after 
 rode all unconsciously through the streets of the 
 Mission, amid the half-pitying, half-smiling glances 
 of the people. 
 
 In spite of his meditations, his single volume, 
 and his habit of retiring early, he found his even- 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 163 
 
 ings were growing lonely and tedious. He missed 
 the prayer meeting, and, above all, the hymns. 
 He had a fine baritone voice, sympathetic, as may 
 be imagined, but not cultivated. One night, in 
 the seclusion of his garden, and secure in his 
 distance from other dwellings, he raised his voice 
 in a familiar camp meeting hymn with a strong 
 Covenanter's ring in the chorus. Growing bolder 
 as he went on, he at last filled the quiet night with 
 the strenuous sweep of his chant. Surprised at 
 his own fervour, he paused for a moment, listen- 
 ing, half frightened, half ashamed of his outbreak. 
 But there was only the trilling of the night wind 
 in the leaves, or the far-off yelp of a coyote. 
 
 For a moment he thought he heard the metallic 
 twang of a stringed instrument in the Mission 
 garden beyond his own, and remembered his 
 contiguity to the Church with a stir of defiance. 
 But he was relieved, nevertheless. His pent-up 
 emotion had found vent, and without the nervous 
 excitement that had followed his old exaltation. 
 That night he slept better. He had found the 
 Lord again with Psalmody ! 
 
 The next evening he chanced upon a softer 
 hymn of the same simplicity, but with a vein of 
 human tenderness in its aspirations, which his more 
 hopeful mood gently rendered. At the conclusion 
 of the first verse he was, however, distinctly con- 
 
 M2 
 
1 64 A CONVERT OF THE MISSIO N 
 
 scious of beino; followed by the same twanging 
 
 O J <"> O 
 
 sound he had heard on the previous night, and 
 which even his untutored ear could recognise as 
 an attempt to accompany him. But before he had 
 finished the second verse the unknown player, 
 after an ingenious but ineffectual essay to grasp 
 the right chord, abandoned it with an impatient 
 and almost pettish flourish, and a loud bang upon 
 the sounding board of the unseen instrument. 
 Masterton finished it alone. 
 
 With his curiosity excited, however, he tried 
 to discover the locality of the hidden player. The 
 sound evidently came from the Mission garden ; 
 but in his ignorance of the language he could not 
 even interrogate his Indian housekeeper. On the 
 third night, however, his hymn was uninterrupted 
 by any sound from the former musician. A sense 
 of disappointment, he knew not why, came over 
 him. The kindly overture of the unseen player 
 had been a relief to his loneliness. Yet he had 
 barely concluded the hymn when the familiar sound 
 again struck his ears. But this time the musician 
 played boldly, confidently, and with a singular skill 
 on the instrument. 
 
 The brilliant prelude over, to his entire surprise 
 and some confusion, a soprano voice, high, childish, 
 but infinitely quaint and fascinating, was mis- 
 chievously uplifted. But alas ! even to his ears, 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 165 
 
 ignorant of the language, it was very clearly a song 
 of levity and wantonness, of freedom and license, 
 of coquetry and incitement ! Yet such was its 
 fascination that he fancied it was reclaimed by the 
 delightfully childlike and innocent expression of 
 the singer. 
 
 Enough that this tall, gaunt, broad-shouldered 
 man arose, and, overcome by a curiosity almost as 
 childlike, slipped into the garden and glided with 
 an Indian softness of tread towards the voice. 
 The moon shone full upon the ruined Mission wall 
 tipped with clusters of dark foliage. Half hiding, 
 half mingling with one of them an indistinct bulk 
 of light-coloured huddled fleeces like an extra- 
 vagant bird's nest hung the unknown musician. 
 So intent was the performer's preoccupation that 
 Masterton actually reached the base of the wall 
 immediately below the figure without attracting 
 its attention. But his foot slipped on the crumbling 
 debris with a snapping of dry twigs. There was 
 a quick little cry from above. He had barely time 
 to recover his position before the singer, impul- 
 sively leaning over the parapet, had lost hers, and 
 fell outwards. But Masterton was tall, alert, and 
 self-possessed, and threw out his long arms. The 
 next moment they were full of soft flounces, a 
 struggling figure was against his breast, and a 
 woman's frightened little hands around his neck. 
 
1 66 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 But he had broken her fall, and almost instantly, 
 yet with infinite gentleness, he released her un- 
 harmed, with hardly her crisp flounces crumpled, 
 in an upright position against the wall. Even her 
 guitar, still hanging from her shoulder by a yellow 
 ribbon, had bounded elastic and resounding against 
 the wall, but lay intact at her satin-slippered feet. 
 She caught it up with another quick little cry, but 
 this time more of sauciness than fear, and drew her 
 little hand across its strings, half defiantly. 
 
 ' I hope you are not hurt ? ' said the Circuit 
 Preacher, gravely. 
 
 She broke into a laugh so silvery that he 
 thought it no extravagance to liken it to the moon- 
 beams that played over her made audible. She 
 was lithe, yet plump ; barred with black and yellow 
 and small waisted like a pretty wasp. Her com- 
 plexion in that light was a sheen of pearl satin that 
 made her eyes blacker and her little mouth redder 
 than any other colour could. She was small, but, 
 remembering the fourteen-year-old wife of the 
 shopkeeper, he felt that, for all her childish voice 
 and features, she was a grown woman, and a sudden 
 shyness took hold of him. 
 
 But she looked pertly in his face, stood her 
 guitar upright before her, and put her hands behind 
 her back as she leaned saucily against the wall and 
 shrugged her shoulders. 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 167 
 
 ' It was the fault of you,' she said, in a broken 
 English that seemed as much infantine as foreign. 
 ' What for you not remain to yourself in your own 
 casa ? So it come. You creep so in the dark 
 and shake my wall, and I fall. And she,' pointing 
 to the guitar, * is a'most broke ! And for all thees, 
 I have only make to you a serenade. Ingrate ! ' 
 
 ( I beg your pardon,' said Masterton quickly, 
 ' but I was curious. I thought I might help you, 
 and ' 
 
 ' Make yourself another cat on the wall, eh ? 
 No ; one is enough, thank you ! ' 
 
 A frown lowered on Masterton's brow. ' You 
 don't understand me,' he said, bluntly. ' I did not 
 know who was here.' 
 
 ' Ah, biteno ! Then it is Pepita Ramirez, you 
 see,' she said, tapping her bodice with one little 
 finger, ' all the same ; the niece from Manuel 
 Garcia, who keeps the Mission garden and lif there. 
 And you ? ' 
 
 ' My name is Masterton.' 
 
 ' How mooch ? ' 
 
 ' Masterton,' he repeated. 
 
 She tried to pronounce it once or twice des- 
 perately, and then shook her little head so violently 
 that a yellow rose fastened over her ear fell to the 
 ground. But she did not heed it, nor the fact that 
 Masterton had picked it up. 
 
1 68 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 ' Ah, I cannot ! ' she said, poutingly. ' It is as 
 deefeecult to make go as my guitar with your 
 serenade.' 
 
 ' Can you not say " Stephen Masterton ? " ' he 
 asked, more gently, with a returning and forgiving 
 sense of her childishness. 
 
 ' Es-stefen ? Ah, Esteban \ Yes ; Don 
 Esteban ! Bueno \ Then, Don Esteban, what 
 for you sink so melank-olly one night, and one 
 night so fierce ? The melank-olly, he ees not so 
 bad ; but the fierce ah ! he is weeked ! Ess it 
 how the Americano make always his serenade ? ' 
 
 Masterton's brow again darkened. And his 
 hymn of exaltation had been mistaken by these 
 people by this this wanton child ! 
 
 ' It was no serenade,' he replied, curtly ; ' it was 
 in praise of the Lord ! ' 
 
 ' Of how mooch ? ' 
 
 ' Of the Lord of Hosts of the Almighty in 
 Heaven.' He lifted his long arms reverently on 
 high. 
 
 ' Oh ! ' she said, with a frightened look, slightly 
 edging away from the wall. At a secure distance 
 she stopped. * Then you are a soldier, Don 
 Esteban ? ' 
 
 'No!' 
 
 ' Then what for you sink "I am a soldier of 
 the Lord," and you will make die " in His army ? " 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 169 
 
 Oh, yes ; you have said.' She gathered up her 
 guitar tightly under her arm, shook her small finger 
 at him gravely, and said, ' You are a hoombog, 
 Don Esteban ; good a' night,' and began to glide 
 away. 
 
 ' One moment, Miss Miss Ramirez,' called 
 Masterton. ' I that is you you have forgotten 
 your rose,' he added, feebly, holding up the flower. 
 She halted. 
 
 ' Ah, yes ; he have drop, you have pick him 
 up, he is yours. / have drop, you have pick me 
 up, but I am not yours. Good a' night, Coman- 
 dante Don Esteban ! ' 
 
 With a light laugh she ran along beside the 
 wall for a little distance, suddenly leaped up and 
 disappeared in one of the largest gaps in its ruined 
 and helpless structure. Stephen Masterton gazed 
 after her stupidly, still holding the rose in his 
 hand. Then he threw it away and re-entered his 
 home. 
 
 Lighting his candle he undressed himself, 
 prayed fervently so fervently that all remem- 
 brance of the idle, foolish incident was wiped from 
 his mind and went to bed. He slept well and 
 dreamlessly. 
 
 The next morning, when his thoughts recurred 
 to the previous night, this seemed to him a token 
 that he had not deviated from his spiritual in- 
 
1 70 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 tegrity ; it did not occur to him that the thought 
 itself was a tacit suspicion. 
 
 So his feet quite easily sought the garden again 
 in the early sunshine, even to the wall where she 
 had stood. But he had not taken into account the 
 vivifying freshness of the morning, the renewed 
 promise of life and resurrection in the pulsing air 
 and potent sunlight, and as he stood there he 
 seemed to see the figure of the young girl again 
 leaning against the wall in all the charm of her 
 irrepressible and innocent youth. More than that, 
 he found the whole scene re-enacting itself before 
 him ; the nebulous drapery half hidden in the 
 foliage, the cry and the fall ; the momentary soft 
 contact of the girl's figure against his own, the 
 clinging arms around his neck, the brush and 
 fragrance of her flounces all this came back to 
 him with a strength he had not felt when it oc- 
 curred. 
 
 He was turning hurriedly away when his eyes 
 fell upon the yellow rose still lying in the debris 
 where he had thrown it but still pure, fresh, and 
 unfaded. He picked it up again, with a singular 
 fancy that it was the girl herself, and carried it into 
 the house. 
 
 As he placed it half shyly in a glass on his 
 table a wonderful thought occurred to him. Was 
 not the episode of last night a special providence ? 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 171 
 
 Was not that young girl, wayward and childlike, 
 a mere neophyte in her idolatrous religion, as yet 
 unsteeped in sloth and ignorance, presented to him 
 as a brand to be snatched from the burning ? Was 
 not this the opportunity of conversion he had 
 longed for ; this the chance of exercising his gifts of 
 exhortation, that he had been hiding in the napkin 
 of solitude and seclusion ? Nay, was not all this 
 predestined^. His illness, his consequent exile to 
 this land of false gods this contiguity to the Mis- 
 sion was not all this part of a supremely ordered 
 plan for the girl's salvation and was he not elected 
 and ordained for that service ? Nay, more, was 
 not the girl herself a mere unconscious instru- 
 ment in the hands of a higher power ; was not 
 her voluntary attempt to accompany him in his 
 devotional exercise a vague stirring of that pre- 
 destined force within her ? Was not even that 
 wantonness and frivolity contrasted with her 
 childishness which he had at first misunderstood 
 the stirrings of the flesh and the spirit, and was 
 he to abandon her in that struggle of good and 
 evil ? 
 
 He lifted his bowed head, that had been resting 
 on his arm before the little flower on the table as 
 if it were a shrine with a flash of resolve in his 
 blue eyes. The wrinkled Concepcion coming to 
 her duties in the morning scarcely recognised her 
 
172 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 gloomily abstracted master in this transfigured 
 man. He looked ten years younger. 
 
 She met his greeting, and the few direct in- 
 quiries that his new resolve enabled him to make 
 more freely, with some information which a later 
 talk with the shopkeeper, who had a fuller English 
 vocabulary, confirmed in detail. 
 
 ' Yes ! truly this was a niece of the Mission 
 gardener, who lived with her uncle in the ruined 
 wing of the old Presidio. She had taken her first 
 communion four years ago. Ah, yes, she was a 
 great musician, and could play on the organ. And 
 the guitar, ah, yes of a certainty. She was gay, 
 and flirted with the Caballeros, young and old, 
 but she cared not for any.' 
 
 Whatever satisfaction this latter statement 
 gave Masterton, he believed it was because the 
 absence of any disturbing worldly affection would 
 make her an easier convert. 
 
 But how continue this chance acquaintance 
 and effect her conversion ? For the first time 
 Masterton realised the value of expediency ; while 
 his whole nature impelled him to frankly and 
 publicly seek her society and openly exhort her, 
 he knew that this was impossible ; still more, he 
 remembered her unmistakable fright at his first 
 expression of faith ; he must ' be wise as the 
 serpent and harmless as the dove.' He must 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 173 
 
 work upon her soul alone, and secretly. He, who 
 would have shrunk from any clandestine associa- 
 tion with a girl from mere human affection, saw 
 no wrong in a covert intimacy for the purpose of 
 religious salvation. Ignorant as he was of the 
 ways of the world, and inexperienced in the usages 
 of society, he began to plan methods of secretly 
 meeting her with all the intrigue of a gallant. 
 The perspicacity as well as the intuition of a true 
 lover had descended upon him in this effort of 
 mere spiritual conquest. 
 
 Armed with his information and a few Spanish 
 words, he took the yellow Concepcion aside and 
 gravely suborned her to carry a note to be 
 delivered secretly to Miss Ramirez. To his great 
 relief and some surprise the old woman grinned 
 with intelligence, and her withered hand closed 
 with a certain familiar dexterity over the epistle 
 and the accompanying gratuity. To a man less 
 naively one-ideaed it might have awakened some 
 suspicion ; but to the more sanguine hopefulness 
 of Masterton it only suggested the fancy that 
 Concepcion herself might prove to be open to 
 conversion, and that he should in due season 
 attempt her salvation also. But that would be 
 later, For Concepcion was always with him and 
 accessible ; the girl was not. 
 
 The note, which had cost him some labour of 
 
174 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 composition, simple and almost business-like as 
 was the result, ran as follows : 
 
 ' I wish to see you upon some matter of grave 
 concern to yourself. Will you oblige me by 
 coming again to the wall of the Mission to-night 
 at early candle light ? It would avert worldly 
 suspicion if you brought also your guitar.' 
 
 The afternoon dragged slowly on ; Concepcion 
 returned ; she had, with great difficulty, managed 
 to see the Senorita, but not alone ; she had, how- 
 ever, slipped the note into her hand, not daring 
 to wait for an answer. 
 
 In his first hopefulness Masterton did not 
 doubt what the answer would be, but as evening 
 approached he grew concerned as to the girl's 
 opportunities of coming, and regretted that he had 
 not o-iven her a choice of time. 
 
 o 
 
 Before his evening meal was finished he 
 began to fear for her willingness, and doubt the 
 potency of his note. He was accustomed to ex- 
 hort orally perhaps he ought to have waited 
 for the chance of speaking to her directly without 
 
 wrtng. 
 
 When the moon rose he was already in the 
 garden. Lingering at first in the shadow of an 
 olive tree, he waited until the moonbeams fell 
 on the wall and its crests of foliage. But nothing 
 moved among that ebony tracery ; his ear was 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 175 
 
 strained for the familiar tinkle of the guitar all 
 was silent. As the moon rose higher he at last 
 boldly walked to the wall, and listened for any 
 movement on the other side of it. But nothing 
 stirred. She was evidently not coming his note 
 had failed. 
 
 He was turning away sadly, but as he faced 
 his home again he heard a light laugh beside him. 
 He stopped. A black shadow stepped out from 
 beneath his own almond tree. He started, when, 
 with a gesture that seemed familiar to him, the 
 upper part of the shadow seemed to fall away 
 with a long black mantilla and the face of the 
 young girl was revealed. 
 
 He could see now that she was clad in black 
 lace from head to foot. She looked taller, older, 
 and he fancied even prettier than before. A 
 sudden doubt of his ability to impress her, a swift 
 realisation of all the difficulties of the attempt, 
 and, for the first time, perhaps, a dim perception 
 of the incongruity of the situation came over 
 him. 
 
 ' I was looking for you on the wall,' he stam- 
 mered. 
 
 * Madre de Dios / ' she retorted, with a laugh 
 and her old audacity, ' you would that I shall 
 always hang there, and drop upon you like a pear 
 when you shake the tree ? No ! ' 
 
SHE LOOKED TALLER, OLDER, AND HE FANCIED EVEN 
 PRETTIER THAN BEFORE 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MJSSION 177 
 
 ' You haven't brought your guitar,' he con- 
 tinued, still more awkwardly, as he noticed that 
 she held only a long black fan in her hand. 
 
 ' For why ? You would that I play it, and 
 when my uncle say " Where go Pepita ? She is 
 loss," some one shall say, " Oh ! I have hear her 
 tink-a-tink in the garden of the Americano, who 
 lif alone." And then it ess finish ! ' 
 
 Masterton began to feel exceedingly uncom- 
 fortable. There was something in this situation 
 that he had not dreamed of. But with the per- 
 sistency of an awkward man he went on. 
 
 ( But you played on the wall the other night, 
 and tried to accompany me.' 
 
 ' But that was lass night and on the wall. I 
 had not speak to you, you had not speak to 
 me. You had not sent me the leetle note by 
 your peon' She stopped, and suddenly opening 
 her fan before her face, so that only her mischievous 
 eyes were visible, added : ' You had not asked me 
 then to come to hear you make lof to me, Don 
 Esteban. That is the difference.' 
 
 The Circuit Preacher felt the blood rush to 
 his face. Ano-er, shame, mortification, remorse, 
 
 o 
 
 and fear alternately strove with him, but above 
 all and through all he was conscious of a sharp, 
 exquisite pleasure that frightened him still more. 
 Yet he managed to exclaim : 
 
 N 
 
i ;8 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 ' No ! no ! You cannot think me capable of 
 such a cowardly trick ? ' 
 
 The girl started, more at the unmistakable 
 sincerity of his utterance than at the words, whose 
 full meaning she may have only imperfectly 
 caught. 
 
 ( A treek ? A treek ? ' she slowly and wonder- 
 ingly repeated. Then suddenly, as if comprehend- 
 ing him, she turned her round black eyes full 
 upon him and dropped her fan from her face. 
 
 ' And what for you ask me to come here 
 then ? ' 
 
 ' I wanted to talk with you,' he began, ' on far 
 
 more serious matters. I wished to ' but he 
 
 stopped. He could not address this quaint child- 
 woman, staring at him in black-eyed wonder, in 
 either the measured or the impetuous terms with 
 which he would have exhorted a maturer respon- 
 sible being. He made a step towards her; she 
 drew back, striking at his extended hand half 
 impatiently, half mischievously with her fan. 
 
 He flushed and then burst out bluntly, ' I 
 want to talk with you about your soul.' 
 
 ' My what ? ' 
 
 'Your immortal soul, unhappy girl.' 
 
 ' What have you to make with that ? Are you 
 a devil ? ' Her eyes grew rounder though she 
 faced him boldly. 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 179 
 
 I am a Minister of the Gospel,' he said, in 
 hurried entreaty. ' You must hear me for a 
 moment. I would save your soul.' 
 
 ' My immortal soul lif with the Paclre at the 
 Mission you moost seek her there ! My mortal 
 body,' she added, with a mischievous smile, ' say 
 to you, "good a' night, Don Esteban." She 
 dropped him a little curtsey and ran away. 
 
 ' One moment, Miss Ramirez.' said Masterton, 
 eagerly ; but she had already slipped beyond his 
 reach. He saw her little black figure passing 
 swiftly beside the moonlit wall, saw it suddenly 
 slide into a shadowy fissure, and vanish. 
 
 In his blank disappointment, he could not bear 
 to re-enter the house he had left so sanguinely a 
 few moments before, but walked moodily in the 
 garden. His discomfiture was the more complete 
 since he felt that his defeat was owing to some 
 mistake in his methods, and not the incorrigibility 
 of his subject. 
 
 Was it not a spiritual weakness in him to have 
 resented so sharply the girl's imputation that he 
 wished to make love to her? He should have 
 borne it as Christians had even before now 
 borne slander and false testimony fort heir faith ! 
 He might even have accepted it, and let the 
 triumph of her conversion in the end prove his 
 innocence. Or was his purpose incompatible with 
 
 N 2 
 
i8o A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 that sisterly affection he had so often preached to 
 the women of his flock ? He might have taken 
 her hand, and called her 'Sister Pepita,' even as 
 he had called Deborah 'Sister.' He recalled 
 the fact that he had for an instant held her 
 struggling in his arms : he remembered the thrill 
 that the recollection had caused him, and somehow 
 it now sent a burning blush across his face. He 
 hurried back into the house. 
 
 The next day a thousand wild ideas took 
 the place of his former settled resolution. He 
 would seek the Padre, this custodian of the young 
 girl's soul ; he would convince him of his error, 
 or beseech him to give him an equal access to her 
 spirit ! He would seek the uncle of the girl, and 
 work upon his feelings. 
 
 Then for three or four days he resolved to 
 put the young girl from his mind, trusting after 
 the fashion of his kind for some special revelation 
 from a supreme source as an indication for his 
 conduct. This revelation presently occurred, as 
 it is apt to occur when wanted. 
 
 One evening his heart leaped at the familiar 
 sound of Pepita's guitar in the distance. What- 
 ever his ultimate intention now, he hurriedly ran 
 into the garden. The sound came from the 
 former direction, but as he unhesitatingly ap- 
 proached the Mission wall, he could see that she 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 181 
 
 was not upon it, and as the notes of her guitar 
 were struck again, he knew that they came from 
 the other side. But the chords were a prelude to 
 one of his own hymns, and he stood entranced as 
 her sweet, child-like voice rose with the very 
 words that he had sung. The few defects were 
 those of purely oral imitation, the accents, even 
 the slight reiteration of the 's,' were Pepita's 
 
 own : 
 
 Cheeldren oof the Heavenly King, 
 As ye journey essweetly ssing ; 
 Essing your great Redeemer's praise, 
 Glorioos in Hees works and ways. 
 
 He was astounded. Her recollection of the 
 air and words was the more wonderful, for he 
 remembered now that he had only sung that 
 particular hymn once. But to his still greater 
 delight and surprise, her voice rose again in the 
 second verse, with a touch of plaintiveness that 
 swelled his throat : 
 
 We are travelling home to God, 
 In the way our farzers trod ; 
 They are happy now, and we 
 Soon their happiness shall see. 
 
 The simple, almost childish words so childish 
 that they might have been the fitting creation of 
 her own childish lips here died away with a 
 
1 82 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 sweep and crash of the whole strings. Breathless 
 silence followed, in which Stephen Masterton 
 could feel the beatings of his own heart. 
 
 ' Miss Ramirez,' he called, in a voice that 
 scarcely seemed his own. There was no reply. 
 ' Pepita ! ' he repeated ; it was strangely like the 
 accent of a lover, but he no longer cared. Still 
 the singer's voice was silent. 
 
 Then he ran swiftly beside the wall, as he had 
 seen her run, until he came to the fissure. It was 
 overgrown with vines and brambles almost as 
 impenetrable as an abattis, but if she had pierced 
 it in her delicate crape dress, so could he ! He 
 brushed roughly through, and found himself in a 
 glimmering aisle of pear trees close by the white 
 wall of the Mission church. 
 
 For a moment in that intricate tracing of 
 ebony and ivory made by the rising moon, he was 
 dazzled, but evidently his irruption into the 
 orchard had not been as lithe and silent as 
 her own, for a figure in a parti-coloured dress 
 suddenly started into activity, and running from 
 the wall, began to course through the trees until 
 it became apparently a part of that involved 
 pattern. Nothing daunted, however, Stephen 
 Masterton pursued ; his speed increased as he 
 recognised the tlounces of Pepita's barred dress, 
 but the young girl had the advantage of knowing 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 183 
 
 the locality, and could evade her pursuer by 
 unsuspected turns and doubles. 
 
 For some moments this fanciful sylvan chase 
 was kept up in perfect silence ; it might have been 
 
 A FIGURE IN A PARTI-COLOURED DRESS SUDDENLY 
 STARTED INTO ACTIVITY 
 
 a woodland nymph pursued by a wandering shep- 
 herd. Masterton presently saw that she was 
 making towards a tiled roof that was now visible 
 as projecting over the Presidio wall, and was 
 evidently her goal of refuge He redoubled his 
 
1 84 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 speed ; with skilful audacity and sheer strength of 
 his broad shoulders he broke through a dense 
 Ceanothus hedge which Pepita was swiftly skirting, 
 and suddenly appeared between her and her house. 
 
 With her first cry, the young girl turned and 
 tried to bury herself in the hedge ; but in another 
 stride the Circuit Preacher was at her side, and 
 caught her panting figure in his arms. 
 
 While he had been running he had swiftly 
 formulated what he should do and what he 
 should say to her. To his simple appeal for her 
 companionship and willing ear he would acid a 
 brotherly tenderness, that should invite her trust- 
 fulness in him ; he would confess his wrong 
 and ask her forgiveness of his abrupt solici- 
 tations ; he would propose to teach her more 
 hymns, they would practise psalmody together ; 
 even this priest, the custodian of her soul, could 
 not object to that ; but chiefly he would thank 
 her : he would tell her how she had pleased him, 
 and this would lead to more serious and thought- 
 ful converse. All this was in his mind while he 
 ran, was upon his lips as he caught her, and for 
 an instant she lapsed, exhausted, in his arms. 
 But, alas ! even in that moment he suddenly drew 
 her towards him, and kissed her as only a lover 
 could ! 
 
A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 185 
 
 The wire grass was already yellowing on the 
 Tasajasa plains with the clusty decay of the long, 
 dry summer, when Doctor Duchesne returned to 
 Tasajasa. He came to see the wife of Deacon 
 Sanderson, who, having for the twelfth time 
 added to the population of the settlement, was 
 not ' doing as well ' as everybody except, 
 possibly, Doctor Duchesne expected. After he 
 had made this hollow-eyed, over-burdened, under- 
 nourished woman as comfortable as he could in 
 her rude, neglected surroundings, to change the 
 dreary chronicle of suffering, he turned to the 
 husband, and said, ' And what has become of Mr. 
 Masterton, who used to be in your vocation ? ' 
 A long groan came from the Deacon. 
 
 ' Hallo ! I hope he has not had a relapse/ 
 said the Doctor, earnestly. ' I thought I'd 
 knocked all that nonsense out of him I beg your 
 pardon I mean,' he added, hurriedly, 'he wrote 
 to me only a few weeks ago that he was picking 
 up his strength again and doing well ! ' 
 
 ' In his weak, gross, sinful flesh yes, no 
 doubt,' returned the Deacon, scornfully, 'and, 
 perhaps, even in a worldly sense, for those who 
 value the vanities of life ; but he is lost to us, for 
 all time, and lost to eternal life for ever. Not,' 
 he continued in sanctimonious vindictiveness, 
 ' but that I often had my doubts of Brother 
 
1 86 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 Masterton's steadfastness. He was too much 
 given to imagery and song.' 
 
 ' But what has he done ? ' persisted Doctor 
 Duchesne. 
 
 'Done! He has embraced the Scarlet 
 Woman ! ' 
 
 ' Dear me ! ' said the Doctor, ' so soon ? Is it 
 anybody you knew here ? not anybody's wife ? 
 Eh?' 
 
 ' He has entered the Church of Rome,' said 
 the Deacon, indignantly ; ' he has forsaken the 
 God of his fathers for the tents of the idolaters ; 
 he is the consort of Papists and the slave of the 
 Pope ! ' 
 
 ' But are you sure ? ' said Doctor Duchesne, 
 with perhaps less concern than before. 
 
 'Sure,' returned the Deacon angrily, 'didn't 
 Brother Bulkley, on account of warning reports 
 made by a God-fearing and soul-seeking teamster, 
 make a special pilgrimage to this land of Sodom 
 to enquire and spy out its wickedness ? Didn't he 
 find Stephen Masterton steeped in the iniquity of 
 practising on an organ he that scorned even a 
 violin or harmonium in the tents of the Lord in 
 an idolatrous chapel, with a foreign female Papist 
 for a teacher ? Didn't he find him a guest at the 
 board of a Jesuit priest, visiting the schools of 
 the Mission where this young Jezebel of a singer 
 
'DIDN'T HE FIND MASTERTON STEEPED IN THE INIQUITY OF 
 PRACTISING ON AN ORGAN?' 
 
1 88 A CONVERT OF THE MISSION 
 
 teaches the children to chant in unknown tongues ? 
 Didn't he find him living with a wrinkled Indian 
 witch who called him ' Padrone,' and speaking 
 her gibberish ? Didn't they find him, who left 
 here a man mortified in flesh and spirit and pale 
 with striving with sinners, fat and rosy from 
 native wines and flesh pots, and even vain and 
 gaucly in coloured apparel ? And last of all, 
 didn't Brother Bulkley hear that a rumour was 
 spread far and wide that this miserable backslider 
 was to take to himself a wife in one of these 
 strange women that very Jezebel who seduced 
 him ? What do you call that ? ' 
 
 ' It looks a good deal like human nature,' said 
 the Doctor, musingly, ' but / call it a cure ! ' 
 
1 89 
 
 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 THE American paused. He had evidently lost 
 his way. For the last half-hour he had been 
 wandering in a mediaeval town, in a profound 
 mediaeval dream. Only a few days had elapsed 
 since he had left the steamship that carried him 
 hither ; and the accents of his own tongue, the 
 idioms of his own people and the sympathetic 
 community of New World tastes and expressions 
 still filled his mind, until he woke up, or rather, 
 as it seemed to him, was falling asleep in the 
 past of this Old World town which had once 
 held his ancestors. Although a republican, he 
 had liked to think of them in quaint distinctive 
 garb, representing State and importance perhaps 
 even aristocratic pre-eminence content to let the 
 responsibility of such ' bad eminence ' rest with 
 them entirely, but a habit of conscientiousness 
 and love for historic truth eventually led him also 
 to regard an honest Bauer standing beside his 
 cattle in the quaint market-place, or a kindly-faced 
 black-eyed Dienstmddchen in a doorway, with a 
 
190 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 timid, respectful interest, as a possible type of his 
 progenitors. For, unlike some of his travelling 
 countrymen in Europe, he was not a snob, and 
 it struck him as an American that it was, 
 perhaps, better to think of his race as having 
 improved than as having degenerated. In these 
 ingenuous meditations he had passed the long rows 
 of quaint, high houses, whose sagging roofs and 
 unpatchecl dilapidations were yet far removed from 
 squalor, until he had reached the road bordered by 
 poplars, all so unlike his own country's waysides 
 and knew that he had wandered far from his 
 hotel. 
 
 He did not care, however, to retrace his steps 
 and return by the way he had come. There was, 
 he reasoned, some other street or turning that 
 would eventually bring him to the market-place 
 and his hotel, and yet extend his experience of the 
 town. He turned at right angles into a narrow 
 grass lane, which was, however, as neatly kept 
 and apparently as public as the highway. A few 
 moments' walking convinced him that it was not a 
 thoroughfare and that it led to the open gates 
 of a park. This had something of a public look, 
 which suggested that his intrusion might be, at 
 least, a pardonable trespass, and he relied, like 
 most strangers, on the exonerating quality of a 
 stranger's ignorance. The park lay in the 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 191 
 
 direction he wished to go, and yet it struck him 
 as singular that a park of such extent should be 
 allowed to still occupy such valuable urban space. 
 Indeed, its length seemed to be illimitable as he 
 wandered on, until he became conscious that he 
 must have again lost his way, and he diverged 
 toward the only boundary, a high, thickset hedge 
 to the right, whose line he had been following. 
 
 As he neared it he heard the sound of voices 
 on the other side, speaking in German, with which 
 he was unfamiliar. Having, as yet, met no one, 
 and being now impressed with the fact that for a 
 public place the park was singularly deserted, he 
 was conscious that his position was getting serious, 
 and he determined to take this only chance of 
 enquiring his way. The hedge was thinner in some 
 places than in others, and at times he could see 
 not only the light through it but even the moving- 
 figures of the speakers, and the occasional white 
 flash of a summer .gown. At last he determined 
 to penetrate it, and with little difficulty emerged 
 on the other side. But here he paused motionless. 
 He found himself behind a somewhat formal and 
 symmetrical group of figures with their backs 
 toward him, but all stiffened into attitudes as 
 motionless as his own, and all gazing with a mono- 
 tonous intensity in the direction of a handsome 
 building, which had been invisible above the hedge, 
 
192 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 but which now seemed to arise suddenly before 
 him. Some of the figures were in uniform. 
 Immediately before him, but so slightly separated 
 from the others that he was enabled to see the 
 house between her and her companions, he was 
 confronted by the pretty back, shoulders and 
 blonde braids of a young girl of twenty. Con- 
 vinced that he had unwittingly intruded upon some 
 august ceremonial, he instantly slipped back into 
 the hedge, but so silently that his momentary 
 presence was evidently undetected. When he 
 regained the park side he glanced back through 
 the interstices ; there was no movement of the 
 figures nor break in the silence to indicate that 
 his intrusion had been observed. With a long- 
 breath of relief he hurried from the park. 
 
 It was late when he finally got back to his 
 hotel. But his little modern adventure had, I 
 fear, quite outrun his previous mediaeval reflections, 
 and almost his first enquiry of the silver-chained 
 porter in the courtyard was in regard to the park. 
 There was no public park in Alstaclt ! The Herr 
 possibly alluded to the Hof Gardens the Schloss, 
 which was in the direction he indicated. The 
 Schloss was the residency of the hereditary Grand 
 Duke. Ja wokl f He was stopping there with 
 several Hoheiten. There was naturally a party 
 there a family reunion. But it was a private 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 193 
 
 enclosure. At times, when the Grand Duke was 
 not ' in residence,' it was open to the public. In 
 point of fact, at such times tickets of admission 
 were to be had at the hotel for fifty Pfennige each. 
 There was not, of truth, much to see except a 
 model farm and dairy the pretty toy of a previous 
 Grand Duchess. 
 
 But he seemed destined to come into closer 
 collision with the modern life of Alstadt. On 
 entering the hotel, wearied by his long walk, he 
 passed the landlord and a man in half-military 
 uniform on the landing near his room. As he 
 entered his apartment he had a vague impression, 
 without exactly knowing why, that the landlord 
 and the military stranger had just left it. This 
 feeling was deepened by the evident disarrange- 
 ment of certain articles in his unlocked portman- 
 teau and the disorganisation of his writing-case. 
 A wave of indignation passed over him. It was 
 followed by a knock at the cloor, and the landlord 
 blandly appeared with the stranger. 
 
 ' A thousand pardons,' said the former smilingly, 
 1 but Herr Sanderman, the Ober- Inspector of 
 Police, wishes to speak with you. I hope we are 
 not intruding ? ' 
 
 ' Not now,' said the American drily. 
 
 The two exchanged a vacant and deprecating 
 smile. 
 
i 9 4 THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 
 
 1 I have to ask only a few formal questions,' 
 said the Ober- Inspector in excellent but somewhat 
 precise English, ' to supplement the report which, 
 as a stranger, you may not know is required by 
 the police from the landlord in regard to the 
 names and quality of his guests who are foreign to 
 the town. You have a passport ? ' 
 
 ' I have,' said the American still more drily. 
 ' But I do not keep it in an unlocked portmanteau 
 or an open writing-case.' 
 
 ' An admirable precaution,' said Sanderman 
 with unmoved politeness. * May I see it ? 
 Thanks,' he added, glancing over the document 
 which the American produced from his pocket. 
 ' I see that you are a born American citizen and 
 an earlier knowledge of that fact would have 
 prevented this little contretemps. You are aware, 
 Mr. Hoffman, that your name is German ? ' 
 
 ' It was borne by my ancestors, who came 
 from this country two centuries ago,' said Hoff- 
 man curtly. 
 
 ' We are indeed honoured by your return to 
 it,' returned Sanderman suavely, ' but it was the 
 circumstance of your name being a local one, and 
 the possibility of your still being a German citizen 
 liable to unperformed military duty, which has 
 caused the trouble.' His manner was clearly 
 civil and courteous, but Hoffman felt that all the 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 195 
 
 time his own face and features were undergoing a 
 profound scrutiny from the speaker. 
 
 ' And you are making sure that you will know 
 me again ?' said Hoffman with a smile. 
 
 * I trust, indeed, both,' returned Sanderman 
 with a bow, * although you will permit me to say 
 that your description here,' pointing to the pass- 
 port, * scarcely does you justice. Ach Gott ! it is 
 the same in all countries ; the official eye is not 
 that of the young Damen! 
 
 Hoffman, though not conceited, had not lived 
 twenty years without knowing that he was very 
 good-looking, yet there was something in the 
 remark that caused him to colour with a new 
 uneasiness. The Ober-Inspector rose with another 
 bow, and moved toward the door. ' I hope you 
 will let me make amends for this intrusion by 
 doing anything I can to render your visit here a 
 pleasant one. Perhaps,' he added, ' it is not for 
 long ? ' 
 
 But Hoffman evaded the evident question 
 as he resented what he imagined was a possible 
 sneer. 
 
 ' I have not yet determined my movements,' 
 he said. 
 
 The Ober-Inspector brought his heels together 
 in a somewhat stiffer military salute and de- 
 parted. 
 
 o 2 
 
196 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 Nothing, however, could have exceeded the 
 later almost servile urbanity of the landlord, who 
 seemed to have been proud of the official visit to 
 his guest. He was profuse in his attentions, and 
 even introduced him to a singularly artistic-look- 
 ing man of middle age, wearing an order in his 
 buttonhole, whom he met casually in the hall. 
 
 ' Our Court photographer,' explained the land- 
 lord with some fervour, ' at whose studio, only a 
 few houses distant, most of the Hoheiten and 
 Prinze ssinnen of Germany have sat for their like- 
 nesses.' 
 
 ' I should feel honoured if the distinguished 
 
 o 
 
 American Herr would give me a visit,' said the 
 stranger gravely, as he gazed at Hoffman with an 
 intensity which recalled the previous scrutiny of 
 the Police-Inspector, * and I would be charmed if 
 he would avail himself of my poor skill to trans- 
 mit his picturesque features to my unique collec- 
 tion.' 
 
 Hoffman returned a polite evasion to this 
 invitation, although he was conscious of being 
 struck with this second examination of his face, 
 and the allusion to his personality. 
 
 The next morning the porter met him with a 
 mysterious air. The Herr would still like to see 
 the Schloss ? Hoffman, who had quite forgotten 
 his adventure in the park, looked vacant. Ja wo/il 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 197 
 
 the Hof authorities had no doubt heard of his 
 visit and had intimated to the hotel proprietor 
 that he might have permission to visit the model 
 farm and dairy. As the American still looked 
 indifferent the porter pointed out with some 
 importance that it was a Ducal courtesy not to be 
 lightly treated ; that few, indeed, of the burghers 
 themselves had ever been admitted to this eccentric 
 whim of the late Grand Duchess. He would, of 
 course, be silent about it ; the Court would not 
 like it known that they had made an exception to 
 their rules in favour of a foreigner ; he would enter 
 quickly and boldly alone. There would be a 
 housekeeper or a dairymaid to show him over the 
 place. 
 
 More amused at this important mystery over 
 what he, as an American, was inclined to classify 
 as a ' free pass ' to a somewhat heavy ' side show,' 
 he gravely accepted the permission, and the next 
 morning after breakfast set out to visit the model 
 farm and dairy. Dismissing his driver, as he had 
 been instructed, Hoffman entered the gateway 
 with a mingling of expectancy and a certain 
 amusement over the ' boldness ' which the porter 
 had suggested should characterise his entrance. 
 Before him was a beautifully kept lane bordered 
 by arboured and trellised roses, which seemed 
 to sink into the distance. He was instinctively 
 
198 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 following it when he became aware that he was 
 mysteriously accompanied by a man in the livery 
 of a chasseiir, who was walking among the trees 
 almost abreast of him, keeping pace with his step, 
 and after the first introductory military salute 
 preserving a ceremonious silence. There was 
 something so ludicrous in this solemn procession 
 toward a peaceful, rural industry that by the time 
 they had reached the bottom of the lane the 
 American had quite recovered his good humour. 
 But here a new astonishment awaited him. Nest- 
 ling before him in a green amphitheatre lay a little 
 wooden farmyard and outbuildings, which irresisti- 
 bly suggested that it had been recently unpacked 
 and set up from a box of Nuremberg toys. The 
 symmetrical trees, the galleried houses with 
 preternaturally glazed windows, even the spotty, 
 disproportionately sized cows in the white-fenced 
 barnyards, were all unreal, wooden and toylike. 
 
 Crossing a miniature bridge over a little stream, 
 from which he was quite prepared to hook 
 metallic fish with a magnet their own size, he 
 looked about him for some real being to dispel 
 the illusion. The mysterious chasseitr had dis- 
 appeared. But under the arch of an arbour, which 
 seemed to be composed of silk ribbons, green 
 glass and pink tissue paper, stood a quaint but 
 delightful figure. 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 199 
 
 At first it seemed as if he had only dispelled 
 one illusion for another. For the figure before 
 him might have been made of Dresden china so 
 daintily delicate and unique it was in colour and 
 arrangement. It was that of a young girl dressed 
 in some forgotten mediaeval peasant garb of velvet 
 braids, silver stay-laced corsage, lace sleeves and 
 helmeted metallic comb. But, after the Dresden 
 method, the pale yellow of her hair was repeated 
 in her bodice, the pink of her cheeks was in the 
 roses of her chintz overskirt. The blue of her 
 eyes was the blue of her petticoat ; the dazzling 
 whiteness of her neck shone again in the sleeves 
 and stockings. Nevertheless she was real and 
 human, for the pink deepened in her cheeks as 
 Hoffman's hat flew from his head, and she 
 recognised the civility with a grave little curtsey. 
 
 ' You have come to see the dairy,' she said in 
 quaintly accurate English. ' 1 will show you the 
 way.' 
 
 ' If you please,' said Hoffman gaily, ' but ' 
 
 ' But what ? ' she said, facing him suddenly 
 with absolutely astonished eyes. 
 
 Hoffman looked into them so long that their 
 frank wonder presently contracted into an omi- 
 nous mingling of restraint and resentment. No- 
 thing daunted, however, he went on : 
 
 ' Couldn't we shake all that ? ' 
 
200 THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 
 
 The look of wonder returned. ' Shake all 
 that ? ' she repeated. ' I do not understand.' 
 
 1 Well ! I'm not positively aching to see cows, 
 and you must be sick of showing them. I think, 
 too, I've about sized the whole show. Wouldn't 
 it be better if we sat down in that arbour suppos- 
 ing it won't fall down and you told me all about 
 the lot ? It would save you a heap of trouble and 
 keep your pretty frock cleaner than trapesing 
 round. Of course,' he said with a quick transition 
 to the gentlest courtesy, ' if you're conscientious 
 about this thing we'll go on and not spare a cow. 
 Consider me in it with you for the whole morn- 
 ing.' 
 
 She looked at him again and then suddenly 
 broke into a charming laugh. It revealed a set 
 of strong white teeth, as well as a certain barbaric 
 trace in its cadence which civilised restraint had 
 not entirely overlaid. 
 
 ' I suppose she really is a peasant, in spite of 
 that pretty frock,' he said to himself as he laughed 
 too. 
 
 But her face presently took a shade of reserve, 
 and with a gentle but singular significance she 
 said : 
 
 ' I think you must see the dairy.' 
 
 Hoffman's hat was in his hand with a vivacity 
 that tumbled the brown curls on his forehead. 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 201 
 
 ' By all means,' he said instantly, and began 
 walking by her side in modest but easy silence. 
 Now that he thought her a conscientious peasant 
 he was quiet and respectful. 
 
 Presently she lifted her eyes, which, despite 
 her gravity, had not entirely lost their previous 
 mirthfulness, and said : 
 
 ' But you Americans in your rich and pros- 
 perous country, with your large lands and your 
 great harvests you must know all about farm- 
 ing.' 
 
 ' Never was in a dairy in my life,' said Hoff- 
 man gravely. * I'm from the city of New York, 
 where the cows give swill milk and are kept in 
 cellars.' 
 
 Her eyebrows contracted prettily in an effort 
 to understand. Then she apparently gave it up 
 and said with a slanting glint of mischief in her 
 eyes : 
 
 ' Then you come here like the other Americans 
 in hope to see the Grand Duke and Duchess and 
 the Princesses ? ' 
 
 ' No. The fact is I almost tumbled into a 
 lot of 'em standing like wax figures the other 
 side of the park lodge, the other day and got 
 away as soon as I could. I think I prefer the 
 cows.' 
 
 Her head was slightly turned away. He had 
 
202 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 to content himself with looking down upon the 
 strong feet in their serviceable but smartly buckled 
 shoes that uplifted her upright figure as she 
 moved beside him. 
 
 ' Of course,' he added with boyish but unmis- 
 takable courtesy, * if it's part of your show to trot 
 out the family, why I'm in that too. I dare say 
 you could make them interesting.' 
 
 ' But why,' she said with her head still slightly 
 turned away toward a figure a sturdy-looking 
 woman, which, for the first time, Hoffman per- 
 ceived was walking in a line with them as the 
 chasseur had done * why did you come here at 
 all?' 
 
 * The first time was a fool accident,' he 
 returned frankly. ' I was making a short cut 
 through what I thought was a public park. The 
 second time was because I had been rude to a 
 Police- Inspector whom I found going through my 
 things, but who apologised as I suppose by 
 getting me an invitation from the Grand Duke to 
 come here, and I thought it only the square thing 
 to both of 'em to accept it. But I'm mighty glad 
 I came ; I wouldn't have missed you for a thou- 
 sand dollars. You see I haven't struck any one I 
 cared to talk to since.' Here he suddenly re- 
 marked that she hadn't looked at him, and that 
 the delicate whiteness of her neck was quite suf- 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 203 
 
 fused with pink, and stopped instantly. Presently 
 he said quite easily : 
 
 1 Who's the chorus ? ' 
 
 1 The lady ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. She's watching us as if she didn't quite 
 approve, you know as if she didn't catch on.' 
 
 ' She's the head housekeeper of the farm. 
 Perhaps you would prefer to have her show you 
 the dairy ; shall I call her ? ' 
 
 The figure in question was very short and 
 stout, with voluminous petticoats. 
 
 'Please don't; I'll stay without your setting 
 that paper-weight on me. But here's the dairy. 
 Don't let her come inside among those pans of 
 fresh milk with that smile, or there'll be trouble. 
 
 The young girl paused too, made a slight 
 gesture with her hand, and the figure passed on 
 as they entered the dairy. It was beautifully 
 clean and fresh. With a persistence that he 
 quickly recognised as mischievous and ironical, 
 and with his characteristic adaptability accepted 
 with even greater gravity and assumption of 
 interest, she showed him all the details. Thence 
 they passed to the farmyard, where he hung 
 with breathless attention over the names of the 
 cows and made her repeat them. Although she 
 was evidently familiar with the subject, he could 
 see that her zeal was fitful and impatient. 
 
204 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 t Suppose we sit down,' he said, pointing to 
 an ostentatious rustic seat in the centre of the 
 green. 
 
 ' Sit down ? ' she repeated wonderingly. 
 'What for?' 
 
 1 To talk. We'll knock off and call it half a 
 day.' 
 
 * But if you are not looking at the farm you 
 are, of course, going,' she said quickly. 
 
 ' Am I ? I don't think these particulars were 
 in my invitation.' 
 
 She again broke into a fit of laughter, and, 
 at the same time, cast a bright eye around the 
 field. 
 
 ' Come,' he said gently, ' there are no other 
 sightseers waiting and your conscience is clear,' 
 and he moved toward the rustic seat. 
 
 ' Certainly not there,' she added in a low 
 voice. 
 
 They moved on slowly together to a copse of 
 willows which overhung the miniature stream. 
 
 * You are not staying long in Alstadt ? ' she 
 said. 
 
 ' No ; I only came to see the old town that 
 my ancestors came from.' 
 
 They were walking so close together that her 
 skirt brushed his trousers, but she suddenly drew 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 205 
 
 away from him, and looking him fixedly in the 
 eye said : 
 
 ' Ah, you have relations here ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, but they are dead two hundred years.' 
 
 She laughed again with a slight expression 
 of relief. They had entered the copse and were 
 walking in dense shadow when she suddenly 
 stopped and sat down upon a rustic bench. To 
 his surprise he found that they were quite alone. 
 
 ' Tell me about these relatives,' she said, slightly 
 drawing aside her skirt to make room for him on 
 the seat. 
 
 He did not require a second invitation. He 
 not only told her all about his ancestral pro- 
 genitors, but, I fear, even about those more recent 
 and more nearly related to him ; about his own 
 life, his vocation he was a clever newspaper 
 correspondent with a roving commission his 
 ambitions, his beliefs and his romance. 
 
 ' And then, perhaps, of this visit you will also 
 make "copy " ? ' 
 
 He smiled at her quick adaptation of his pro- 
 fessional slang, but shook his head. 
 
 'No,' he said gravely. ' No this is you. 
 The " Chicago Interviewer " is big pay and is rich, 
 but it hasn't capital enough to buy you from 
 me.' 
 
206 THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 
 
 He gently slid his hand toward hers and 
 slipped his fingers softly around it. She made a 
 slight movement of withdrawal, but even then 
 as if in forgetfulness or indifference permitted 
 her hand to rest unresponsively in his. It was 
 scarcely an encouragement to gallantry, neither 
 was it a rejection of an unconscious familiarity. 
 
 ' But you haven't told me about yourself,' he 
 said. 
 
 ' Oh, I ' she returned, with her first approach 
 to coquetry in a laugh and a sidelong glance, * of 
 what importance is that to you ? It is the Grand 
 Duchess and Her Highness the Princess that 
 you Americans seek to know. I am what I am 
 as you see.' 
 
 ' You bet,' said Hoffman with charming 
 decision. 
 
 ' I wJiat ? ' 
 
 ' You are, you know, and that's good enough 
 for me, but I don't even know your name.' 
 
 She laughed again and after a pause said : 
 ' Elsbeth.' 
 
 ' But I couldn't call you by your first name on 
 our first meeting, you know.' 
 
 ' Then you Americans are really so very formal 
 eh ? ' she said slyly, looking at her imprisoned 
 hand. 
 
 'Well, yes,' returned Hoffman disengaging it. 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 207 
 
 I suppose we are respectful, or mean to be. 
 But whom am I to enquire for ? To write to ? ' 
 
 ' You are neither to write nor enquire.' 
 
 ' What ? ' 
 
 She had moved in her seat so as to half face 
 him with eyes in which curiosity, mischief and a 
 certain seriousness alternated, but for the first time 
 seemed conscious of his hand, and accented her 
 words with a slight pressure. 
 
 ' You are to return to your hotel presently and 
 say to your landlord : " Pack up my luggage. I 
 have finished with this old town and my ancestors, 
 and the Grand Duke whom I do not care to see, 
 and I shall leave Alstadt to-morrow ! " 
 
 1 Thank you ! I don't catch on.' 
 
 ' Of what necessity should you ? I have said 
 it. That should be enough for a chivalrous 
 American like you.' She again significantly looked 
 down at her hand. 
 
 ' If you mean that you know the extent of the 
 favour you ask of me, I can say no more,' he 
 said seriously ; ' but give me some reason for it.' 
 
 ' Ah so ! ' she said with a slight shrug of her 
 shoulders. ' Then I must tell you. You say you 
 do not know the Grand Duke and Duchess. 
 Well ! they know you / The day before yesterday 
 you were wandering in the park, as you admit. 
 You say, also, you got through the hedge and inter- 
 
208 THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 
 
 rupted some ceremony. That ceremony was not 
 a Court function, Mr. Hoffman, but something 
 equally sacred the photographing of the Ducal 
 family before the Schloss. You say that you 
 instantly withdrew. But after the photograph 
 was taken the plate revealed a stranger standing 
 actually by the side of the Princess Alexandrine, 
 and even taking the pas of the Grand Duke 
 himself. That stranger was you ! ' 
 
 ' And the picture was spoiled,' said the 
 American with a quiet laugh. 
 
 ' I should not say that,' returned the lady with 
 a demure glance at her companion's handsome 
 face, ' and I do not believe that the Princess who 
 first saw the photograph thought so either. But 
 she is very young and wilful, and has the reputa- 
 tion of being very indiscreet, and unfortunately 
 she begged the photographer not to destroy the 
 plate, but to give it to her, and to say nothing 
 about it, except that the plate was defective, and to 
 take another. Still it would have ended there if 
 her curiosity had not led her to confide a descrip- 
 tion of the stranger to the Police- Inspector, with 
 the result you know.' 
 
 ' Then I am expected to leave town because I 
 accidentally stumbled into a family group that was 
 being photographed ? ' 
 
 ' Because a certain Princess was indiscreet 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 209 
 
 enough to show her curiosity about you,' corrected 
 the fair stranger. 
 
 ' But look here ! I'll apologise to the Princess, 
 and offer to pay for the plate.' 
 
 ' Then you do want to see the Princess ? ' said 
 the young girl smiling ; ' you are like the others.' 
 
 ' Bother the Princess ! I want to see you. 
 And I don't see how they can prevent it if I 
 choose to remain.' 
 
 ' Very easily. You will find that there is 
 something wrong with your passport, and you 
 will be sent on to Pumpernickel for examination. 
 You will unwittingly transgress some of the laws 
 of the town and be ordered to leave it. You will 
 be shadowed by the police until you quarrel with 
 them like a free American and you are con- 
 ducted to the frontier. Perhaps you will strike an 
 officer who has insulted you, and then you are 
 finished on the spot.' 
 
 The American's crest rose palpably until it 
 cocked his straw hat over his curls. 
 
 * Suppose I am content to risk it having first 
 laid the whole matter and its trivial cause before 
 the American Minister, so that he could make it 
 hot for this whole caboodle of a country if they 
 happened to " down me." By Jove ! I shouldn't 
 mind being the martyr of an international episode 
 if they'd spare me long enough to let me get the 
 
 p 
 
210 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 first " copy " over to the other side.' His eyes 
 sparkled. 
 
 ' You could expose them, but they would then 
 deny the whole story, and you have no evidence. 
 They would demand to know your informant, and 
 I should be disgraced, and the Princess, who is 
 already talked about, made a subject of scandal. 
 But no matter ! It is right that an American's 
 independence shall not be interfered with.' 
 
 She raised the hem of her handkerchief to 
 her blue eyes and slightly turned her head aside. 
 Hoffman gently drew the handkerchief away, and 
 in so doing possessed himself of her other hand. 
 
 ' Look here, Miss Miss Elsbeth. You 
 know I wouldn't give you away, whatever hap- 
 pened. But couldn't I get hold of that photo- 
 grapher I saw him, he wanted me to sit to him 
 and make him tell me ? ' 
 
 * He wanted you to sit to him,' she said 
 hurriedly, ' and did you ? ' 
 
 'No,' he replied, ' He was a little too fresh 
 and previous, though I thought he fancied some 
 resemblance in me to somebody else.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' She said something to herself in 
 German which he did not understand, and then 
 added aloud : 
 
 ' You did well ; he is a bad man, this photo- 
 grapher. Promise me you shall not sit for him.' 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 211 
 
 ' How can I if I'm fired out of the place like 
 this ?' He added ruefully, ' But I'd like to make 
 him give himself away to me somehow.' 
 
 ' He will not, and if he did he would deny it 
 afterward. Do not go near him nor see him. 
 Be careful that he does not photograph you with 
 his instantaneous instrument when you are pass- 
 ing. Now you must go. I must see the 
 Princess.' 
 
 ' Let me go, too. I will explain it to her,' said 
 Hoffman. 
 
 She stopped, looked at him keenly and 
 attempted to withdraw her hands. ' Ah, then it 
 is so. It is the Princess you wish to see. You 
 are curious you, too ; you wish to see this lady 
 who is interested in you. I ought to have known 
 it. You are all alike.' 
 
 He met her gaze with laughing frankness, 
 accepting her outburst as a charming feminine 
 weakness, half jealousy, half coquetry but re- 
 tained her hands. 
 
 ' Nonsense,' he said. ' I wish to see her that 
 I may have the right to see you that you shall 
 not lose your place here through me ; that I may 
 come again.' 
 
 ' You must never come here again.' 
 
 ' Then you must come where I am. We will 
 meet somewhere when you have an afternoon 
 
 P 2 
 
212 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 off. You shall show me the town the houses 
 of my ancestors their tombs ; possibly if the 
 Grand Duke rampages the probable site of my 
 own.' 
 
 She looked into his laughing eyes with her 
 clear, steadfast, gravely questioning blue ones. 
 * Do not you Americans know that it is not the 
 fashion here, in Germany, for the young men and 
 the young women to walk together unless they 
 are verlobt? 
 
 ' Ver which ? ' 
 
 ' Engaged.' She nodded her head thrice : 
 viciously, decidedly, mischievously. 
 
 ' So much the better.' 
 
 ' Ach Gott / ' She made a gesture of hope- 
 lessness at his incorrigibility, and again attempted 
 to withdraw her hands. 
 
 ' I must go now.' 
 
 ' Well then, good-bye.' 
 
 It was easy to draw her closer by simply 
 lowering her still captive hands. Then he 
 suddenly kissed her coldly startled lips, and 
 instantly released her. She as instantly van- 
 ished. 
 
 ' Elsbeth,' he called quickly. ' Elsbeth ! ' 
 
 Her now really frightened face reappeared 
 with a heightened colour from the dense foliage 
 quite to his astonishment. 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 213 
 
 ' Hush,' she said with her finger on her lips. 
 ' Are you mad ? ' 
 
 ' I only wanted to remind you to square me 
 with the Princess,' he laughed, as her head 
 disappeared. 
 
 He strolled back toward the gate. Scarcely 
 had he quitted the shrubbery before the same 
 Chasseur made his appearance with precisely the 
 same salute ; and, keeping exactly the same 
 distance, accompanied him to the gate. At the 
 corner of the street he hailed a drosky and was 
 driven to his hotel. 
 
 The landlord came up smiling. He trusted 
 that the Herr had greatly enjoyed himself at the 
 Schloss. It was a distinguished honour in fact, 
 quite unprecedented. Hoffman, while he deter- 
 mined not to commit himself, nor his late fair 
 companion, was, nevertheless, anxious to learn 
 something more of her relations to the Schloss. 
 So pretty, so characteristic and marked a figure 
 must be well known to sightseers. Indeed, once 
 or twice the idea had crossed his mind with a 
 slightly jealous twinge that left him more conscious 
 of the impression she had made on him than he 
 had deemed possible. He asked if the model 
 farm and dairy were always shown by the same 
 attendants. 
 
 ' Ack Gott ! no doubt, yes ; His Royal High- 
 
214 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 ness had quite a retinue when he was in resi- 
 dence.' 
 
 ' And were these attendants in costume ? ' 
 
 * There was undoubtedly a livery for the 
 servants.' 
 
 Hoffman felt a slight republican irritation at 
 the epithet he knew not why. But this costume 
 was rather an historical one ; surely it was not 
 entrusted to every-day menials and he briefly 
 described it. 
 
 His host's blank curiosity suddenly changed 
 to a look of mysterious and arch intelligence. 
 
 ' Ach Gott ! yes ! ' He remembered now (with 
 his finger on his nose) that when there was a Fest 
 at the Schloss the farm and dairy were filled with 
 shepherdesses, in quaint costume worn by the 
 ladies of the Grand Duke's own theatrical com- 
 pany, who assumed the characters with great 
 vivacity. Surely it was the same, and the Grand 
 Duke had treated the Herr to this special courtesy. 
 Yes there was one pretty, blonde young lady 
 the Fraulein Wimpfenbuttel, a most popular 
 soubrette, who would play it to the life ! And the 
 description fitted her to a hair ! Ah, there was no 
 doubt of it ; many persons, indeed, had been so 
 deceived. 
 
 But happily, now that he had given him the 
 wink, the Herr could corroborate it himself by 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 215 
 
 going to the theatre to-night. Ah, it would be a 
 great joke quite colossal! if he took a front seat 
 where she could see him. And the good man 
 rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation. 
 
 Hoffman had listened to him with a slow 
 repugnance that was only equal to his gradual 
 conviction that the explanation was a true one, 
 and that he himself had been ridiculously 
 deceived. The mystery of his fair companion's 
 costume, which he had accepted as part of the 
 ' show ' ; the inconsistency of her manner and her 
 evident occupation ; her undeniable wish to 
 terminate the whole episode with that single 
 interview ; her mingling of worldly aplomb and 
 rustic innocence ; her perfect self-control and 
 experienced acceptance of his gallantry under the 
 simulated attitude of simplicity all now struck 
 him as perfectly comprehensible. He recalled 
 the actress's inimitable touch in certain picturesque 
 realistic details in the dairy which she had not 
 spared him ; he recognized it now even in their 
 bowered confidences (how like a pretty ballet 
 scene their whole interview on the rustic bench 
 was !), and it breathed through their entire con- 
 versation to their theatrical parting at the close! 
 And the whole story of the photograph was, no 
 doubt, as pure a dramatic invention as the rest ! 
 The Princess's romantic interest in him that 
 
2i6 THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 
 
 Princess who had never appeared (why had 
 he not detected the old, well-worn, sentimental 
 situation here ?) was all a part of it. The dark, 
 mysterious hints of his persecution by the police 
 were a necessary culmination to the little farce. 
 Thank Heaven ! he had not v risen ' at the Prin- 
 cess, even if he had given himself away to the 
 clever actress in her own humble role. Then the 
 humour of the whole situation predominated and 
 he laughed until the tears came to his eyes, and 
 his forgotten ancestors might have turned over in 
 their graves without his heeding them. And with 
 this humanizing influence upon him he went to 
 the theatre. 
 
 It was capacious even for the town, and 
 although the performance was a special one, he 
 had no difficulty in getting a whole box to himself. 
 He tried to avoid this public isolation by sitting 
 close to the next box, where there was a solitary 
 occupant an officer apparently as lonely as him- 
 self. He had made up his mind that when his 
 fair deceiver appeared he would let her see by his 
 significant applause that he recognized her, but 
 bore no malice for the trick she had played on 
 him. After all, he had kissed her he had no 
 right to complain. If she should recognize him, 
 and this recognition led to a withdrawal of her 
 prohibition, and their better acquaintance, he 
 
THE INDISCRETION OF ELS BETH 217 
 
 would be a fool to cavil at her pleasant artifice. 
 Her vocation was certainly a more independent 
 and original one than that he had supposed ; for 
 its social equality and inequality he cared nothing. 
 He found himself longing for the glance of her 
 calm blue eyes, for the pleasant smile that broke 
 the seriousness of her sweetly restrained lips. 
 There was no doubt that he should know her even 
 as the heroine of the * Czar und der Zimmerman 
 on the bill before him. He was becoming impa- 
 tient. And the performance evidently was wait- 
 ing. A stir in the outer gallery, the clatter of 
 sabres, the filing of uniforms into the Royal box, 
 and a triumphant burst from the orchestra showed 
 the cause. As a few ladies and gentlemen in full 
 evening dress emerged from the background of 
 uniforms and took their places in the front of the 
 box Hoffman looked with some interest for the 
 romantic Princess. Suddenly he saw a face and 
 shoulders in a glitter of diamonds that startled 
 him, and then a glance that transfixed him. 
 
 He leaned over to his neighbour. ' Who is the 
 young lady in the box ? ' 
 
 ' The Princess Alexandrine.' 
 
 ' I mean the young lady in blue with blonde 
 hair and blue eyes.' 
 
 ' It is the Princess Alexandrine Elsbeth Marie 
 Stephanie, the daughter of the Grand Duke there 
 is none other there.' 
 
218 THE INDISCRETION OF ELSBETH 
 
 ( Thank you.' 
 
 He sat silently looking at the rising curtain 
 and the stage. Then he rose quietly, gathered 
 his hat and coat and left the box. When he 
 reached the gallery he turned instinctively and 
 looked back at the Royal box. Her eyes had 
 followed him, and as he remained a moment 
 motionless in the doorway her lips parted in a 
 grateful smile, and she waved her fan with a faint 
 but unmistakable gesture of farewell. 
 
 The next morning he left Alstadt. There was 
 some little delay at the Zoll on the frontier, and 
 when Hoffman received back his trunk it was 
 accompanied by a little sealed packet which was 
 handed to him by the Custom-house Inspector. 
 Hoffman did not open it until he was alone. 
 
 There hangs upon the wall of his modest 
 apartment in New York a narrow, irregular photo- 
 graph ingeniously framed, of himself standing side 
 by side with a young German girl, who, in the 
 estimation of his compatriots, is by no means 
 stylish and only passably good-looking. When 
 he is joked by his friends about the post of honour 
 given to this production, and questioned as to the 
 lady, he remains silent. The Princess Alexandrine 
 Elsbeth Marie Stephanie von Westphalen-Alstadt, 
 among her other Royal qualities, knew whom to 
 trust. 
 
2I 9 
 
 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 
 
 IN a previous chronicle which dealt with the 
 exploits of * Chu Chu,' a Californian mustang, 1 I 
 gave some space to the accomplishments of 
 Enriquez Saltillo, who assisted me in training her, 
 and who was also brother to Consuelo Saltillo, 
 the young lady to whom I had freely given both 
 the mustang and my youthful affections. I con- 
 sider it a proof of the superiority of masculine 
 friendship that neither the subsequent desertion 
 of the mustang nor the young lady ever made the 
 slightest difference to Enriquez or me in our 
 exalted amity. To a wondering doubt as to what 
 I ever could possibly have seen in his sister to- 
 admire he joined a tolerant scepticism of the 
 whole sex. This he was wont to express in that 
 marvellous combination of Spanish precision and 
 Californian slang for which he was justly famous. 
 ' As to thees women and their little game,' he 
 would say, ' believe me, my friend, your old Oncle 
 'Enry is not in it. No ; he will ever take a back 
 seat when lofe is around. For why ? Regard 
 
 1 See 'The Bell- Ringer of Angel's, 5 &c. 
 
220 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 me here ! If she is a horse, you shall say, " She 
 will buck-jump," " She will ess-shy," "She will not 
 arrive," or " She will arrive too quick." But if it 
 is thees women, where are you ? For when you 
 shall say, " She will ess-shy," look you, she will 
 walk straight ; or she will remain tranquil when 
 you think she buck-jump ; or else she will arrive 
 and, look you, you will not. You shall get left. It 
 is ever so. My father and the brother of my 
 father have both make court to my mother when 
 she was but a senorita. My father think she have 
 lofe his brother more. So he say to her : " It is 
 enofe ; Tranquillize yourself. I will go. I will 
 efface myself. Adios ! Shake hands ! Ta-ta ! 
 So long ! See you again in the fall." And what 
 make my mother ? Regard me ! She marry 
 my father on the instant ! Of thees women, 
 believe me, Pancho, you shall know nothing. 
 Not even if they shall make you the son of your 
 father or his nephew.' 
 
 I have recalled this characteristic speech to 
 show the general tendency of Enriquez's convic- 
 tions at the opening of this little story. It is only 
 fair to say, however, that his usual attitude toward 
 the sex he so cheerfully maligned exhibited little 
 apprehension or caution in dealing with them. 
 Among the frivolous and light-minded inter- 
 mixture of his race he moved with great freedom 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 221 
 
 and popularity. He danced well ; when we went 
 to fandangos together his agility and the audacity 
 of his figures always procured him the prettiest 
 partners, his professed sentiments, I presume, 
 shielding him from subsequent jealousies, heart- 
 burnings, or envy. I have a vivid recollection of 
 him in the mysteries of the sembicuacua, a some- 
 what corybantic dance which left much to the 
 invention of the performers, and very little to the 
 imagination of the spectator. In one of the 
 figures a gaudy handkerchief, waved more or less 
 gracefully by dancer and danseuse before the 
 dazzled eyes of each other, acted as love's signal, 
 and was used to express alternate admiration and 
 indifference, shyness and audacity, fear and trans- 
 port, coyness and coquetry, as the dance pro- 
 ceeded. I need not say that Enriquez's panto- 
 mimic illustration of these emotions was peculiarly 
 extravagant ; but it was always performed and 
 accepted with a gravity that was an essential 
 feature of the dance. At such times sighs would 
 escape him which were supposed to portray the 
 incipient stages of passion ; snorts of jealousy 
 burst from him at the suggestion of a rival ; he was 
 overtaken by a sort of St. Vitus's dance that ex- 
 pressed his timidity in making the first advances 
 of affection ; the scorn of his lady-love struck him 
 with something like a dumb ague ; and a single 
 
222 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 gesture of invitation from her produced marked 
 delirium. All this was very like Enriquez ; but 
 on the particular occasion to which I refer, I think 
 no one was prepared to see him begin the figure 
 with the waving of four handkerchiefs ! Yet this 
 he did, pirouetting, capering, brandishing his 
 silken signals like a ballerina's scarf in the lan- 
 guishment or fire of passion, until, in a final figure, 
 where the conquered and submitting fair one 
 usually sinks into the arms of her partner, need it 
 be said that the ingenious Enriquez was found in 
 the centre of the floor supporting four of the 
 dancers ! Yet he was by no means unduly ex- 
 cited either by the plaudits of the crowd or by his 
 evident success with the fair. ' Ah, believe me, 
 it is nothing,' he said quietly, rolling a fresh cigar- 
 ette as he leaned against the doorway. * Possibly 
 I shall have to offer the chocolate or the wine to 
 thees girls, or make to them a promenade in the 
 moonlight on the verandah. It is ever so. Unless, 
 my friend,' he said, suddenly turning toward me 
 in an excess of chivalrous self-abnegation, ' unless 
 you shall yourself take my place. Behold, I gif 
 them to you ! I vamos ! I vanish ! I make 
 track ! I skedaddle ! ' I think he would have 
 carried his extravagance to the point of summon- 
 ing his four gipsy witches of partners, and 
 committing them to my care, if the crowd had not 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 223 
 
 at that moment parted, before the remaining 
 dancers, and left one of the onlookers, a tall, 
 slender girl, calmly surveying them through gold- 
 rimmed eye-glasses in complete critical absorp- 
 tion. I stared in amazement and consternation ; 
 for I recognized in the fair stranger Miss Urania 
 Mannersley, the Congregational minister's niece ! 
 
 Everybody knew Rainie Mannersley through- 
 out the length and breadth of the Encinal. She 
 was at once the envy and the goad of the daugh- 
 ters of those South-western and Eastern immi- 
 grants who had settled in the valley. She was 
 correct, she was critical, she was faultless and 
 observant. She was proper, yet independent ; 
 she was highly educated ; she was suspected of 
 knowing Latin and Greek ; she even spelled 
 correctly ! She could wither the plainest field 
 nosegay in the hands of other girls by giving the 
 flowers their botanical names. She never said, 
 ' Ain't you ? ' but ' Aren't you ? ' She looked 
 upon ' Did I which ? ' as an incomplete and 
 imperfect form of ' What did 1 do ? ' She quoted 
 from Browning and Tennyson, and was believed 
 to have read them. She was from Boston. 
 What could she possibly be doing at a free-and- 
 easy fandango ? 
 
 Even if these facts were not already familiar 
 to every one there, her outward appearance would 
 
224 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 have attracted attention. Contrasted with the 
 gorgeous red, black, and yellow skirts of the 
 dancers, her plain, tightly fitting gown and hat, 
 all of one delicate grey, were sufficiently notable 
 in themselves, even had they not seemed, like the 
 girl herself, a kind of quiet protest to the glaring 
 flounces before her. Her small, straight waist 
 and flat back brought into greater relief the 
 corsetless, waistless, swaying figures of the 
 Mexican girls, and her long, slim, well-booted 
 feet, peeping from the stiff, white edges of her 
 short skirt, made their broad, low-quartered slip- 
 pers, held on by the big toe, appear more pre- 
 posterous than ever. Suddenly she seemed to 
 realize that she was standing there alone, but 
 without fear or embarrassment. She drew back 
 a little, glancing carelessly behind her as if miss- 
 ing some previous companion, and then her eyes 
 fell upon mine. She smiled an easy recognition ; 
 then, a moment later, her glance rested more 
 curiously upon Enriquez, who was still by my 
 side. I disengaged myself and instantly joined 
 her, particularly as I noticed that a few of the 
 other bystanders were beginning to stare at her 
 with little reserve. 
 
 ' Isn't it the most extraordinary thing you ever 
 saw ? ' she said quietly. Then, presently noticing 
 the look of embarrassment on my face, she went 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 225 
 
 on, more by way of conversation than of explana- 
 tion : ' I just left uncle making a call on a 
 parishioner next door, and was going" home with 
 Jocasta (a peon servant of her uncle's), when I 
 heard the music, and dropped in. I don't know 
 what has become of her,' she added, glancing 
 round the room again ; * she seemed perfectly 
 wild when she saw that creature over there 
 bounding about with his handkerchiefs. You 
 were speaking to him just now. Do tell me is 
 he real ? ' 
 
 * I should think there was little doubt of that,' 
 I said with a vague laugh. 
 
 * You know what I mean,' she said simply. 
 * Is he quite sane ? Does he do that because he 
 likes it, or is he paid for it ? ' 
 
 This was too much. I pointed out somewhat 
 hurriedly that he was a scion of one of the oldest 
 Castilian families, that the performance was a 
 national gipsy dance which he had joined in as a 
 patriot and a patron, and that he was my clearest 
 friend. At the same time I was conscious that 
 I wished she hadn't seen his last performance. 
 
 * You don't mean to say that all that he did 
 was in the dance ? ' she said. ' I don't believe it. 
 It was only like him.' As I hesitated over this 
 palpable truth, she went on : 'I do wish he'd do 
 it again. Don't you think you could make him ? ' 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE DEVOTION OF ENR1QUEZ 
 
 ' Perhaps he might if you asked him,' I said a 
 little maliciously. 
 
 ' Of course I shouldn't do that,' she returned 
 quietly. ' All the same, I do believe he is really 
 going to do it or something else. Do look ! ' 
 
 I looked, and to my horror saw that Enriquez, 
 possibly incited by the delicate gold eye-glasses 
 of Miss Mannersley, had divested himself of his 
 coat, and. was winding the four handkerchiefs, tied 
 together, picturesquely around his waist, prepara- 
 tory to some new performance. I tried furtively 
 to give him a warning look, but in vain. 
 
 ' Isn't he really too absurd for anything ? ' 
 said Miss Mannersley, yet with a certain com- 
 fortable anticipation in her voice. ' You know, I 
 never saw anything like this before. I wouldn't 
 have believed such a creature could have existed.' 
 
 Even had I succeeded in warning him, I 
 doubt if it would have been of any avail. For, 
 seizing a guitar from one of the musicians, he 
 struck a few chords, and suddenly began to zigzag 
 into the centre of the floor, swaying his body 
 languishingly from side to side in time with the 
 music and the pitch of a thin Spanish tenor. It 
 was a gipsy love-song. Possibly Miss Manners- 
 ley's lingual accomplishments did not include a 
 knowledge of Castilian, but she could not fail to 
 see that the gestures and illustrative pantomime 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 227 
 
 were addressed to her. Passionately assuring her 
 that she was the most favoured daughter of the 
 Virgin, that her eyes were like votive tapers, and 
 yet in the same breath accusing her of being a 
 ' brigand ' and ' assassin ' in her attitude toward 
 'his heart,' he balanced with quivering timidity 
 toward her, threw an imaginary cloak in front of 
 her neat boots as a carpet for her to tread on, and 
 with a final astonishing pirouette and a languish- 
 ing twang of his guitar, sank on one knee, and 
 blew, with a rose, a kiss at her feet. 
 
 If I had been seriously angry with him before for 
 his grotesque extravagance, I could have pitied him 
 now for the young girl's absolute unconsciousness 
 of anything but his utter ludicrousness. The 
 applause of dancers and bystanders was instan- 
 taneous and hearty ; her only contribution to it 
 was a slight parting of her thin reel lips in a half- 
 incredulous smile. In the silence that followed 
 the applause, as Enriquez walked pantingly away, 
 I heard her saying, half to herself, ' Certainly a 
 most extraordinary creature ! ' In my indignation 
 I could not help turning suddenly upon her and 
 looking straight into her eyes. They were brown, 
 with that peculiar velvet opacity common to the 
 pupils of near-sighted persons, and seemed to defy 
 internal scrutiny. She only repeated carelessly^ 
 ' Isn't he ? ' and added : ' Please see if you can 
 
 Q2 
 
228 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 find Jocasta. I suppose we ought to be going 
 now ; and I dare say he won't be doing it again. 
 Ah ! there she is. Good gracious child ! what 
 have you got there ? ' 
 
 It was Enriquez' rose, which Jocasta had 
 picked up, and was timidly holding out toward her 
 mistress. 
 
 ' Heavens ! I don't want it. Keep it your- 
 self.' 
 
 I walked with them to the door, as I did not 
 fancy a certain glitter in the black eyes of the 
 Senoritas Manuela and Pepita, who were watch- 
 ing her curiously. But I think she was as 
 oblivious of this as she was of Enriquez' par- 
 ticular attentions. As we reached the street I 
 felt that I ought to say something more. 
 
 ' You know,' I began casually, ' that although 
 those poor people meet here in this public way, 
 their gathering is really quite a homely pastoral 
 and a national custom ; and these girls are all 
 honest, hard-working peons or servants enjoying 
 themselves in quite the old idyllic fashion.' 
 
 ' Certainly,' said the young girl, half abstract- 
 edly. ' Of course it's a Moorish dance, originally 
 brought over, I suppose, by those old Andalusian 
 immigrants two hundred years ago. It's quite 
 Arabic in its suggestions. I have got something 
 like it in an old cancionero I picked up at a 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 229 
 
 book-stall in Boston. But/ she added, with a 
 gasp of reminiscent satisfaction, ' that's not like 
 him! Oh, no ! he is decidedly original. Heavens ! 
 yes.' 
 
 I turned away in some discomfiture to join 
 Enriquez, who was calmly awaiting me, with a 
 cigarette in his mouth, outside the sala. Yet he 
 looked so unconscious of any previous absurdity 
 that I hesitated in what I thought was a necessary 
 warning. He, however, quickly precipitated it. 
 Glancing after the retreating figures of the two 
 women, he said, ' Thees mees from Boston is 
 return to her house. You do not accompany her ? 
 I shall. Behold me I am there.' But I linked 
 my arm firmly in his. Then I pointed out, first, 
 that she was already accompanied by a servant ; 
 secondly, that if I, who knew her, had hesitated to 
 offer myself as an escort, it was hardly proper for 
 him, a perfect stranger, to take that liberty ; that 
 Miss Mannersley was very punctilious of etiquette, 
 which he, as a Castilian gentleman, ought to 
 appreciate. 
 
 * But will she not regard lofe the admiration 
 excessif ? ' he said, twirling his thin little mous- 
 tache meditatively. 
 
 ' No ; she will not,' I returned sharply ; 'and 
 you ought to understand that she is on a different 
 level from your Manuelas and Carmens.' 
 
2 3 o THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 ' Pardon, my friend,' he said gravely ; ' thees 
 women are ever the same. There is a proverb 
 in my language. Listen: "Whether the sharp 
 blade of the Toledo pierce the satin or the goat- 
 skin, it shall find behind it ever the same heart to 
 wound." I am that Toledo blade or possibly 
 it is you, my friend. Wherefore, let us together 
 pursue this girl of Boston on the instant.' 
 
 But I kept my grasp on Enriquez' arm, and 
 succeeded in restraining his mercurial impulses for 
 the moment. He halted, and puffed vigorously 
 at his cigarette ; but the next instant he started 
 forward again. ' Let us, however, follow with 
 discretion in the rear : we shall pass her house ; 
 we shall gaze at it ; it shall touch her heart.' 
 
 o 
 
 Ridiculous as was this following of the young 
 girl we had only just parted from, I nevertheless 
 knew that Enriquez was quite capable of attempt- 
 ing it alone, and I thought it better to humour him 
 by consenting to walk with him in that direction ; 
 but I felt it necessary to say : 
 
 ' I ought to warn you that Miss Mannersley 
 already looks upon your performances at the sala 
 as something outre and peculiar, and if I were you 
 I shouldn't do anything to deepen that impres- 
 sion.' 
 
 4 You are saying she ees shock?' said Enri- 
 quez, gravely. 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 231 
 
 I felt I could not conscientiously say that she 
 was shocked, and he saw my hesitation. ' Then 
 she have jealousy of the SenoritasJ he suggested, 
 with insufferable complacency. ' You observe ! 
 I have already said. It is ever so.' 
 
 I could stand it no longer. ' Look here, 
 Harry,' I said, ' if you must know it, she looks 
 upon you as an acrobat a paid performer.' 
 
 ' Ah ! ' his black eyes sparkled ' the torero, 
 the man who fight the bull, he is also an acrobat.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but she thinks you a clown ! ^gracioso 
 de teatro, there ! ' 
 
 ' Then I have make her laugh ? ' he said coolly. 
 
 I don't think he had ; but I shrugged my 
 shoulders. 
 
 ' Bueno ! ' he said cheerfully. ' Lofe, he begin 
 with a laugh, he make feenish with a sigh.' 
 
 I turned to look at him in the moonlight. His 
 face presented its habitual Spanish gravity a 
 gravity that was almost ironical. His small black 
 eyes had their characteristic irresponsible audacity 
 the irresponsibility of the vivacious young 
 animal. It could not be possible that he was 
 really touched with the placid frigidities of Miss 
 Mannersley. I remembered his equally elastic 
 gallantries with Miss Pinky Smith, a blonde Wes- 
 tern belle, from which both had harmlessly 
 rebounded. As we walked on slowly I continued 
 
232 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 more persuasively : ' Of course this is only your 
 nonsense ; but don't you see, Miss Mannersley 
 thinks it all in earnest and really your nature ? ' 
 I hesitated, for it suddenly struck me that it was 
 really his nature. ' And hang it all ! you don't 
 want her to believe you a common buffoon, or 
 some intoxicated muchacho! 
 
 ' Intoxicated?' repeated Enriquez, with exas- 
 perating languishment. ' Yes ; that is the word 
 that shall express itself. My friend, you have 
 made a shot in the centre you have ring the bell 
 every time! It is intoxication but not of aguar- 
 diente. Look ! I have long time an ancestor of 
 whom is a pretty story. One clay in church he 
 have seen a young girl a mere peasant girl- 
 pass to the confessional. He look her in her eye, 
 he stagger,' here Enriquez wobbled panto- 
 mimicaliy into the road, ' he fall ! ' he would 
 have suited the action to the word if I had not 
 firmly held him up. ' They have take him home, 
 where he have remain without his clothes, and 
 have dance and sing. But it was the drunkenness 
 of lofe. And, look you, thees village girl was a 
 nothing, not even pretty. The name of my an- 
 cestor was ' 
 
 * Don Quixote de la Mancha,' I suggested 
 maliciously. * I suspected as much. Come along. 
 That will do.' 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 233 
 
 ' My ancestor's name,' continued Enriquez, 
 gravely, ' was Antonio Hermenegildo de Sal- 
 vatierra, which is not the same. Thees Don 
 Quixote of whom you speak exist not at all.' 
 
 ' Never mind. Only, for heaven's sake, as we 
 are nearing the house, don't make a fool of your- 
 self again.' 
 
 It was a wonderful moonlight night. The 
 deep redwood porch of the Mannersley parsonage, 
 under the shadow of a great oak, the largest 
 in the Encinal, was diapered in black and silver. 
 As the women stepped upon the porch their 
 shadows were silhouetted against the door. Miss 
 Mannersley paused for an instant, and turned to 
 give a last look at the beauty of the night as 
 Jocasta entered. Her glance fell upon us as we 
 passed. She nodded carelessly and unaffectedly 
 to me, but as she recognised Enriquez she looked 
 a little longer at him with her previous cold and 
 invincible curiosity. To my horror Enriquez 
 began instantly to affect a slight tremulousness of 
 gait and a difficulty of breathing ; but I gripped 
 his arm savagely, and managed to get him past 
 the house as the door closed finally on the young 
 lady. 
 
 ' You do not comprehend, friend Pancho,' he 
 said gravely, ' but those eyes in their glass are as 
 the cspejo ustorio, the burning mirror. They burn, 
 
234 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 they consume me here like paper. Let us affix 
 to ourselves thees tree. She will, without doubt, 
 appear at her window. We shall salute her for 
 good-night.' 
 
 'We will do nothing of the kind,' I said 
 sharply. Finding that I was determined, he 
 permitted me to lead him away. I was delighted 
 to notice, however, that he had indicated the 
 window which I knew was the minister's study, 
 and that as the bedrooms were in the rear of the 
 house, this later incident was probably not over- 
 seen by the young lady or the servant. But I 
 did not part from Enriquez until I saw him safely 
 back to the sala, where I left him sipping choco- 
 late, his arm alternating around the waists of his 
 two previous partners in a delightful Arcadian 
 and childlike simplicity, and an apparent utter 
 forgetfulness of Miss Mannersley. 
 
 The fandangos were usually held on Saturday 
 night, and the next day, being Sunday, I missed 
 Enriquez ; but as he was a devout Catholic I 
 remembered that he was at mass in the morning, 
 and possibly at the bull-fight at San Antonio in 
 the afternoon. But I was somewhat surprised on 
 the Monday morning following, as I was crossing 
 the plaza, to have my arm taken by the Rev. Mr. 
 Mannersley in the nearest approach to familiarity 
 that was consistent with the reserve of this eminent 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 235 
 
 divine. I looked at him inquiringly. Although 
 scrupulously correct in attire, his features always 
 had a singular resemblance to the national carica- 
 ture known as ' Uncle Sam,' but with the 
 humorous expression left out. Softly stroking his 
 goatee with three fingers, he began condescend- 
 ingly : ' You are, I think, more or less familiar 
 with the characteristics and customs of the 
 Spanish as exhibited by the settlers here.' A 
 thrill of apprehension went through me. Had he 
 heard of Enriquez's proceedings ? Had Miss 
 Mannersley cruelly betrayed him to her uncle ? 
 ' I have not given that attention myself to their 
 language and social peculiarities,' he continued, 
 with a large wave of the hand, ' being much 
 occupied with a study of their religious beliefs and 
 superstitions ' (it struck me that this was apt to be 
 a common fault of people of the Mannersley 
 type) ; ' but I have refrained from a personal 
 discussion of them ; on the contrary, I have held 
 somewhat broad views on the subject of their 
 remarkable missionary work, and have suggested 
 a scheme of co-operation with them, quite indepen- 
 dent of doctrinal teaching, to my brethren of other 
 Protestant Christian sects. These views I first 
 incorporated in a sermon last Sunday week, 
 which I am told has created considerable atten- 
 tion.' He stopped and coughed slightly. ' I 
 
236 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 have not yet heard from any of the Roman clergy, 
 but I am led to believe that my remarks were not 
 ungrateful to Catholics generally.' 
 
 I was relieved, although still in some wonder 
 why he should address me on this topic. I had a 
 vague remembrance of having heard that he had 
 said something on Sunday which had offended 
 some Puritans of his flock, but nothing more. 
 He continued : ' I have just said that I was 
 unacquainted with the characteristics of the 
 Spanish-American race. I presume, however, 
 they have the impulsiveness of their Latin origin. 
 They gesticulate eh ? They express their grati- 
 tude, their joy, their affection, their emotions 
 generally, by spasmodic movements ? They 
 naturally dance sing eh ? ' A horrible sus- 
 picion crossed my mind ; I could only stare help- 
 lessly at him. ' I see,' he said graciously ; ' per- 
 haps it is a somewhat general question. I will 
 explain myself. A rather singular occurrence 
 happened to me the other night. I had returned 
 from visiting a parishioner, and was alone in my 
 study, reviewing my sermon for the next day. It 
 must have been quite late before I concluded, for 
 I distinctly remember my niece had returned with 
 her servant fully an hour before. Presently I 
 heard the sounds of a musical instrument in the 
 road, with the accents of some one singing or 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 237 
 
 rehearsing some metrical composition in words 
 that, although couched in a language foreign to 
 me, in expression and modulation gave me the 
 impression of being distinctly adulatory. For 
 some little time, in the greater preoccupation of 
 my task, I paid little attention to the performance ; 
 but its persistency at length drew me in no mere 
 idle curiosity to the window. From there, 
 standing in my dressing-gown, and believing 
 myself unperceived, I noticed under the large oak 
 in the roadside the figure of a young man, who, 
 by the imperfect light, appeared to be of Spanish 
 extraction. But I evidently miscalculated my 
 own invisibility ; for he moved rapidly forward as 
 I came to the window, and in a series of the most 
 extraordinary pantomimic gestures saluted me. 
 Beyond my experience of a few Greek plays in 
 earlier days, I confess I am not an adept in the 
 understanding of gesticulation ; but it struck me 
 that the various phases of gratitude, fervour, 
 reverence, and exaltation were successively por- 
 trayed. He placed his hands upon his head, his 
 heart, and even clasped them together in this 
 manner.' To my consternation the reverend 
 gentleman here imitated Enriquez' most extrava- 
 gant pantomime. ' I am willing to confess,' he 
 continued, that I was singularly moved by them, 
 as well as by the highly creditable and Christian 
 
238 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 interest that evidently produced them. At last I 
 opened the window. Leaning out, I told him 
 that I regretted that the lateness of the hour 
 prevented any further response from me than a 
 grateful though hurried acknowledgment of his 
 praiseworthy emotion, but that I should be glad 
 to see him for a few moments in the vestry before 
 service the next day, or at early candle-light, 
 before the meeting of the Bible class. I told him 
 that as my sole purpose had been the creation of 
 an evangelical brotherhood and the exclusion of 
 merely doctrinal views, nothing could be more 
 gratifying to me than his spontaneous and unsoli- 
 cited testimony to my motives. He appeared for 
 an instant to be deeply affected, and, indeed, quite 
 overcome with emotion, and then gracefully 
 retired, with some agility and a slight saltatory 
 movement.' 
 
 He paused. A sudden and overwhelming 
 idea took possession of me, and I looked impulsively 
 into his face. Was it possible that for once 
 Enriquez' ironical extravagance had been under- 
 stood, met, and vanquished by a master hand ? 
 But the Rev. Mr. Mannersley's self-satisfied face 
 betrayed no ambiguity or lurking humour. He 
 was evidently in earnest ; he had complacently 
 accepted for himself the abandoned Enriquez' 
 serenade to his niece. I felt a hysterical desire to 
 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 239 
 
 laugh, but it was checked by my companion's next 
 words. 
 
 ' I informed my niece of the occurrence in the 
 morning at breakfast. She had not heard any- 
 thing of the strange performance, but she agreed 
 with me as to its undoubted origin in a grateful 
 recognition of my liberal efforts toward his co- 
 religionists. It was she, in fact, who suggested 
 that your knowledge of these people might corro- 
 borate my impressions.' 
 
 I was dumbfounded. Had Miss Mannersley, 
 who must have recognised Enriquez' hand in 
 this, concealed the fact in a desire to shield him ? 
 But this was so inconsistent with her utter indif- 
 ference to him, except as a grotesque study, that 
 she would have been more likely to tell her uncle 
 all about his previous performance. Nor could it 
 be that she wished to conceal her visit to the 
 fandango. She was far too independent for that, 
 and it was even possible that the revered gentle- 
 man, in his desire to know more of Enriquez' 
 compatriots, would not have objected. In my 
 confusion I meekly added my conviction to hers, 
 congratulated him upon his evident success, and 
 slipped away. But I was burning with a desire to 
 see Enriquez and know all. He was imaginative, 
 but not untruthful. Unfortunately, I learned that 
 he was just then following one of his erratic 
 
240 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 impulses, and had gone to a rodeo at his cousin's, 
 in the foothills, where he was alternately exercis- 
 ing his horsemanship in catching and breaking 
 wild cattle, and delighting his relatives with his 
 incomparable grasp of the American language 
 and customs, and of the airs of a young man of 
 fashion. Then my thoughts recurred to Miss 
 Mannersley. Had she really been oblivious that 
 night to Enriquez' serenade ? I resolved to find 
 out, if I could, without betraying Enriquez. 
 Indeed, it was possible, after all, that it might not 
 have been he. 
 
 Chance favoured me. The next evening I 
 was at a party where Miss Mannersley, by reason 
 of her position and quality, was a distinguished 
 I had almost written a popular guest. 
 But, as I have formerly stated, although the 
 youthful fair of the Encinal were flattered by 
 her casual attentions, and secretly admired her 
 superior style and aristocratic calm, they were 
 more or less uneasy under the dominance of her 
 intelligence and education, and were afraid to 
 attempt either confidence or familiarity. They 
 were also singularly jealous of her, for although 
 the average young man was equally afraid of her 
 cleverness and candour, he was not above paying 
 a tremulous and timid court to her for its effect 
 upon her humbler sisters. This evening she was 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 241 
 
 surrounded by her usual satellites, including, of 
 course, the local notables and special guests of 
 distinction. She had been discussing, I think, 
 the existence of glaciers on Mount Shasta with a 
 spectacled geologist, and had participated with 
 charming frankness in a conversation on anatomy 
 with the local doctor and a learned professor, 
 when she was asked to take a seat at the piano. 
 She played with remarkable skill and wonderful 
 precision, but coldly and brilliantly. As she sat 
 there in her subdued but perfectly fitting evening 
 dress, her regular profile and short but slender 
 neck firmly set upon her high shoulders, exhaling 
 an atmosphere of refined puritanism and provo- 
 cative intelligence, the utter incongruity of Enri- 
 quez' extravagant attentions if ironical, and their 
 equal hopelessness if not, seemed to me plainer 
 than ever. What had this well-poised, coldly 
 observant spinster to do with that quaintly ironic 
 ruffler, that romantic cynic, that rowdy Don 
 Quixote, that impossible Enriquez ? Presently 
 she ceased playing. Her slim, narrow slipper, 
 revealing her thin ankle, remained upon the pedal ; 
 her delicate fingers were resting idly on the keys ; 
 her head was slightly thrown back, and her 
 narrow eyebrows prettily knit toward the ceiling 
 in an effort of memory. 
 
 R 
 
242 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 1 Something of Chopin's,' suggested the geolo- 
 gist, ardently. 
 
 ' That exquisite sonata ! ' pleaded the doctor. 
 
 ' Suthin' of Rubinstein. Heard him once,' 
 said a gentleman of Siskiyou. * He just made 
 that pianner get up and howl. Play Rube.' 
 
 She shook her head with parted lips and a 
 slight touch of girlish coquetry in her manner. 
 Then her fingers suddenly dropped upon the keys 
 with a glassy tinkle ; there were a few quick 
 pizzicato chords, down went the low pedal with a 
 monotonous strumming, and she presently began 
 to hum to herself. I started, as well I might, 
 for I recognised one of Enriquez' favourite and 
 most extravagant guitar solos. It was audacious ; 
 it was barbaric ; it was I fear, vulgar. As I 
 remembered it, as he sang it, it recounted the 
 adventures of one Don Francisco, a provincial 
 gallant and roisterer of the most objectionable 
 type. It had one hundred and four verses, which 
 Enriquez never spared me. I shuddered as in a 
 pleasant, quiet voice the correct Miss Mannersley 
 warbled in musical praise of the pellejo, or wine- 
 skin, and a eulogy of the dice-box came caress- 
 ingly from her thin red lips. But the company 
 was far differently affected : the strange, wild air 
 and wilder accompaniment were evidently catch- 
 ing ; people moved towards the piano ; somebody 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 243 
 
 whistled the air from a distant corner ; even the 
 faces of the geologist and doctor brightened. 
 
 ' A tarantella, 1 presume ? ' blandly suggested 
 the doctor. 
 
 Miss Mannersley stopped, and rose carelessly 
 from the piano. 'It is a Moorish gipsy song of 
 the fifteenth century,' she said dryly. 
 
 1 It seemed sorter familiar, too,' hesitated one 
 of the young men, timidly, Mike as if don't you 
 know ? you had without knowing it, don't you 
 know ? ' he blushed slightly * sorter picked it 
 up somewhere.' 
 
 ' I " picked it up," as you call it, in the collec- 
 tion of mediaeval manuscripts of the Harvard 
 Library, and copied it,' returned Miss Mannersley, 
 coldly, as she turned away. 
 
 But I was not inclined to let her off so easily. 
 I presently made my way to her side. ' Your 
 uncle was complimentary enough to consult me as 
 to the meaning of the appearance of a certain 
 exuberant Spanish visitor at his house the other 
 night.' I looked into her brown eyes, but my 
 own slipped off her velvety pupils without retaining 
 anything. Then she reinforced her gaze with a 
 pince-nez, and said carelessly : 
 
 'Oh, it's you! How are you? Well, could 
 you give him any information ? ' 
 
 ' Only generally,' I returned, still looking into 
 
 R 2 
 
244 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 
 
 her eyes. ' These people are impulsive. The 
 Spanish blood is a mixture of gold and quick- 
 silver.' 
 
 She smiled slightly. ' That reminds me of 
 your volatile friend. He was mercurial enough, 
 certainly. Is he still dancing ?' 
 
 ' And singing sometimes,' I responded point- 
 edly. But she only added casually, 'A singular 
 creature,' without exhibiting the least conscious- 
 ness, and drifted away, leaving me none the 
 wiser. I felt that Enriquez alone could enlighten 
 me. I must see him. 
 
 I did, but not in the way I expected. There 
 was a bull-fight at San Antonio the next Saturday 
 afternoon, the usual Sunday performance being 
 changed in deference to the Sabbatical habits 
 of the Americans. An additional attraction was 
 offered in the shape of a bull and bear fight, also 
 a concession to American taste, which had voted 
 the bull-fight 'slow,' and had averred that the bull 
 ' did not get a fair show.' I am glad that I am 
 able to spare the reader the usual realistic horrors, 
 for in the Californian performances there was very 
 little of the brutality that distinguished this function 
 in the mother-country. The horses were not 
 miserable, worn-out hacks, but young and alert 
 mustangs ; and the display of horsemanship by 
 the picadors was not only wonderful, but secured 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 245 
 
 an almost absolute safety to horse and rider. 
 I never saw a horse gored ; although unskilful 
 riders were sometimes thrown in wheeling quickly 
 to avoid the bull's charge, they generally regained 
 their animals without injury. 
 
 The Plaza de Toros was reached through the 
 decayed and tile-strewn outskirts of an old Spanish 
 village. It was a rudely built, oval amphitheatre, 
 with crumbling, whitewashed adobe walls, and 
 roofed only over portions of the gallery reserved 
 for the provincial ' notables,' but now occupied by 
 a few shopkeepers and their wives, with a sprink- 
 ling of American travellers and ranchmen. The 
 impalpable adobe-dust of the arena was being 
 whirled into the air by the strong onset of the 
 afternoon trade-winds, which happily, however, 
 helped also to dissipate a reek of garlic, and the 
 acrid fumes of cheap tobacco rolled in corn-husk 
 cigarettes. I was leaning over the second barrier, 
 waiting for the meagre and circus-like procession 
 to enter with the keys of the bull-pen, when my 
 attention was attracted to a movement in the 
 reserved gallery. A lady and gentleman of a 
 quality that was evidently unfamilar to the rest of 
 the audience were picking their way along the 
 rickety benches' to a front seat. I recognised the 
 geologist with some surprise, and the lady he was 
 leading with still greater astonishment. For it 
 
246 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 
 
 was Miss Mannersley, in her precise, well-fitting 
 walking costume a monotone of sober colour 
 among the party-coloured audience. 
 
 However, I was perhaps less surprised than 
 the audience, for I was not only becoming as 
 accustomed to the young girl's vagaries as I had 
 been to Enriquez' extravagance ; but I was also 
 satisfied that her uncle might have given her 
 permission to come, as a recognition of the Sunday 
 concession of the management, as well as to 
 conciliate his supposed Catholic friends. I 
 watched her sitting there until the first bull had 
 entered, and, after a rather brief play with the 
 picadors and banderilleros, was despatched. At 
 the moment when the matador approached the 
 bull with his lethal weapon I was not sorry for an 
 excuse to glance at Miss Mannersley. Her hands 
 were in her lap, her head slightly bent forward 
 over her knees. I fancied that she, too, had 
 dropped her eyes before the brutal situation ; to 
 my horror I saw that she had a drawing-book in 
 her hand, and was actually sketching it. I turned 
 my eyes in preference to the dying bull. 
 
 The second animal led out for this ingenious 
 slaughter was, however, more sullen, uncertain, 
 and discomposing to his butchers. He accepted 
 the irony of a trial with gloomy, suspicious eyes, 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 247 
 
 and he declined the challenge of whirling and 
 insulting picadors. He bristled with banderillas 
 like a hedgehog, but remained with his haunches 
 backed against the barrier, at times almost hidden 
 in the fine dust raised by the monotonous stroke 
 of his sullenly pawing hoof his one dull, heavy 
 protest. A vague uneasiness had infected his 
 adversaries ; the picadors held aloof, the bander- 
 illeros skirmished at a safe distance. The audience 
 resented only the indecision of the bull. Galling 
 epithets were flung at him, followed by cries of 
 ' Espada ! ' and, curving his elbow under his short 
 cloak, the matador, with his flashing blade in hand, 
 advanced and stopped. The bull remained 
 motionless. 
 
 For at that moment a heavier gust of wind 
 than usual swept clown upon the arena, lifted a 
 suffocating cloud of clust, and whirled it around 
 the tiers of benches and balcony, and for a 
 moment seemed to stop the performance. I 
 heard an exclamation from the geologist, who had 
 risen to his feet. I fancied I heard even a faint 
 cry from Miss Mannersley ; but the next moment 
 as the dust was slowly settling, we saw a sheet of 
 paper in the air, that had been caught up in this 
 brief cyclone, dropping, dipping from side to side 
 on uncertain wings, until it slowly descended in the 
 
248 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 very middle of the arena. It was a leaf from 
 Miss Mannersley's sketch-book, the one on which 
 she had been sketching. 
 
 In the pause that followed it seemed to be the 
 one object that at last excited the bull's growing 
 but tardy ire. He glanced at it with murky, 
 distended eyes ; he snorted at it with vague yet 
 troubled fury. Whether he detected his own 
 presentment in Miss Mannersley's sketch, or 
 whether he recognised it as an unknown and 
 unfamiliar treachery in his surroundings, I could 
 not conjecture ; for the next moment the matador, 
 taking advantage of the bull's concentration, with 
 a complacent leer at the audience, advanced 
 toward the paper. But at that instant a young 
 man cleared the barrier into the arena with a 
 single bound, shoved the matador to one side, 
 caught up the paper, turned toward the balcony 
 and Miss Mannersley, with a gesture of apology, 
 dropped gaily before the bull, knelt down before 
 him with an exaggerated humility, and held up the 
 drawing as if for his inspection. A roar of applause 
 broke from the audience, a cry of warning and 
 exasperation from the attendants, as the goaded 
 bull suddenly charged the stranger. But he 
 sprang to one side with great dexterity, made a 
 courteous gesture to the matador as if passing 
 the bull over to him, and, still holding the paper in 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 249 
 
 his hand, releaped the barrier, and rejoined the 
 audience in safety. I did not wait to see the 
 deadly, dominant thrust with which the matador 
 received the charging bull ; my eyes were following 
 the figure now bounding up the steps to the 
 balcony, where with an exaggerated salutation he 
 laid the drawing in Miss Mannersley's lap and 
 vanished. There was no mistaking that thin, 
 lithe form, the narrow black moustache, and gravely 
 dancing eyes. The audacity of conception, the 
 extravagance of execution, the quaint irony of the 
 sequel, could belong to no one but Enriquez. 
 
 I hurried up to her as the six yoked mules 
 dragged the carcass of the bull away. She was 
 placidly putting up her book, the unmoved focus 
 of a hundred eager and curious eyes. She smiled 
 slightly as she saw me. ' I was just telling Mr. 
 Briggs what an extraordinary creature it was, and 
 how you knew him. He must have had great 
 experience to do that sort of thing so cleverly and 
 safely. Does he do it often ? Of course, not just 
 that. But does he pick up cigars and things that 
 I see they throw to the matador ? Does he 
 belong to the management ? Mr. Briggs thinks 
 the whole thing was a feint to distract the bull,' 
 she added, with a wicked glance at the geologist, 
 who, I fancied, looked disturbed. 
 
 ' I am afraid,' I said dryly, ' that his act was 
 
250 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 as unpremeditated and genuine as it was un- 
 usual.' 
 
 ' Why afraid ? ' 
 
 It was a matter-of-fact question, but I instantly 
 saw my mistake. What right had I to assume 
 that Enriquez' attentions were any more genuine 
 than her own easy indifference ; and if I suspected 
 that they were, was it fair in me to give my friend 
 away to this heartless coquette ? ' You are not 
 very gallant/ she said, with a slight laugh, as I 
 was hesitating, and turned away with her escort 
 before I could frame a reply. But at least Enriquez 
 was now accessible, and I should gain some 
 information from him. I knew where to find him, 
 unless he were still lounging about the building, 
 intent upon more extravagance ; but I waited 
 until I saw Miss Mannersley and Briggs depart 
 without further interruption. 
 
 The hacienda of Ramon Saltillo, Enriquez' 
 cousin, was on the outskirts of the village. When 
 I arrived there I found Enriquez' pinto mustang 
 steaming in the corral, and, although I was momen- 
 tarily delayed by the servants at the gateway, I 
 was suprised to find Enriquez himself lying 
 languidly on his back in a hammock in the patio. 
 His arms were hanging down listlessly on each 
 side as if in the greatest prostration, yet I could 
 not resist the impression that the rascal had only 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 251 
 
 just got into the hammock when he heard of my 
 arrival. 
 
 'You have arrived, friend Pancho, in time,' 
 he said in accents of exaggerated weakness. ' I 
 am absolutely exhaust. I am bursted, caved in, 
 kerflummoxed. I have behold you, my friend, 
 at the barrier. I speak not, I make no sign at 
 the first, because I was on fire ; I speak not at 
 the feenish for I am exhaust.' 
 
 ' I see ; the bull made it lively for you.' 
 
 He instantly bounded up in the hammock. 
 ' The bull ! Caramba ! Not a thousand bulls ! 
 And thees one, look you, was a craven. I snap 
 my fingers over his horn ; I roll my cigarette 
 under his nose.' 
 
 ' Well, then what was it ? ' 
 
 He instantly lay down again, pulling up the 
 sides of the hammock. Presently his voice came 
 from its depths, appealing in hollow tones to the 
 sky. ' He asks me thees friend of my soul, 
 thees brother of my life, thees Pancho that I lofe 
 what it was ? He would that I should tell him 
 why I am game in the legs, why I shake in the 
 hand, crack in the voice, and am generally wipe 
 out ! And yet he, my pardner thees Francisco 
 know that I have seen the mees from Boston ! 
 That I have gaze into the eye, touch the hand, 
 and for the instant possess the picture that hand 
 
252 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 
 
 have drawn ! It was a sublime picture, Pancho,' 
 he said, sitting up again suddenly, ' and have kill 
 the bull before our friend Pepe's sword have touch 
 even the bone of hees back and make finish of 
 him.' 
 
 ' Look here, Enriquez,' I said bluntly, 'have 
 you been serenading that girl ? ' 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders without the least 
 embarrassment, and said : ' Ah, yes. What would 
 you ? It is of a necessity.' 
 
 ' Well,' I retorted, ' then you ought to know 
 that her uncle took it all to himself thought you 
 some grateful Catholic pleased with his religious 
 tolerance.' 
 
 He did not even smile. ' Bueno,' he said 
 gravely. 'That make something, too. In thees 
 affair it is well to begin with the duenna. He is 
 the duenna.' 
 
 'And,' I went on relentlessly, 'her escort told 
 her just now that your exploit in the bull-ring was 
 only a trick to divert the bull, suggested by the 
 management.' 
 
 ' Bah ! her escort is a geologian. Naturally, 
 she is to him as a stone.' 
 
 I would have continued, but a peon interrupted 
 us at this moment with a sign to Enriquez, who 
 leaped briskly from the hammock, bidding me 
 wait his return from a messenger in the gateway. 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 253 
 
 Still unsatisfied of mind I waited, and sat 
 down in the hammock that Enriquez had quitted. 
 A scrap of paper was lying in its meshes, which 
 at first appeared to be of the kind from which 
 Enriquez rolled his cigarettes ; but as I picked it 
 up to throw it away, I found it was of much firmer 
 and stouter material. Looking at it more closely, 
 I was surprised to recognise it as a piece of the 
 tinted drawing-paper torn off the ' block ' that Miss 
 Mannersley had used. It had been deeply creased 
 at right angles as if it had been folded ; it looked 
 as if it might have been the outer half of a sheet 
 used for a note. 
 
 It might have been a trifling circumstance, but 
 it greatly excited my curiosity. I knew that he 
 had returned the sketch to Miss Mannersley, for 
 1 had seen it in her hand. Had she given him 
 another ? And if so, why had it been folded to 
 the destruction of the drawing ? Or was it part 
 of a note which he had destroyed? In the first 
 impulse of discovery I walked quickly with it 
 toward the gateway where Enriquez had dis- 
 appeared, intending to restore it to him. He was 
 just outside talking with a young girl. I started, 
 for it was Jocasta Miss Mannersley's maid. 
 
 With this added discovery came that sense of 
 uneasiness and indignation with which we illogi- 
 cally are apt to resent the withholding of a friend's 
 
254 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 confidence, even in matters concerning only him- 
 self. It was no use for me to reason that it was 
 no business of mine, that he was right in keeping 
 a secret that concerned another and a lady ; but 
 I was afraid I was even more meanly resentful 
 because the discovery quite upset my theory of 
 his conduct and of Miss Mannersley's attitude 
 toward him. I continued to walk on to the gate- 
 way, where I bade Enriquez a hurried good-bye, 
 alleging the sudden remembrance of another 
 engagement, but without appearing to recognise 
 the girl, who was moving away, when, to my 
 further discomfiture, the rascal stopped me w r ith 
 an appealing wink, threw his arms around my 
 neck, whispered hoarsely in my ear, ' Ah ! you see 
 you comprehend but you are the mirror 
 of discretion!' and returned to Jocasta. But 
 whether this meant that he had received a message 
 from Miss Mannersley, or that he was trying to 
 suborn her maid to carry one, was still uncertain. 
 He was capable of either. 
 
 During the next two or three weeks I saw 
 him frequently ; but as I had resolved to try the 
 effect of ignoring Miss Mannersley in our conver- 
 sation, I gathered little further of their relations, 
 and, to my surprise, after one or two characteristic 
 extravagances of allusion, Enriquez dropped the 
 subject, too. Only one afternoon, as we were 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 255 
 
 parting, he said carelessly : ' My friend, you are 
 going to the casa of Mannersley to-night. I too 
 have the honour of the invitation. But you will be 
 my Mercury my Leporello you will take of me 
 a message to thees Mees Boston, that I am 
 crushed, desolated, prostrate, and flabbergasted 
 that I cannot arrive, for I have of that night to sit 
 up with the grandaunt of my brother-in-law, who 
 has a quinsy to the death. It is sad.' 
 
 This was the first indication I had received of 
 Miss Mannersley's advances. I was equally sur- 
 prised at Enriquez' refusal. 
 
 ' Nonsense ! ' I said bluntly. ' Nothing keeps 
 you from going.' 
 
 ' My friend,' returned Enriquez, with a sudden 
 lapse into languishment that seemed to make him 
 absolutely infirm ; 'it is everything that shall 
 restrain me. I am not strong. I shall become 
 weak of the knee and tremble under the eye of 
 Mees Boston. I shall precipitate myself to the 
 geologian by the throat. Ask me another conun- 
 drum that shall be easy.' 
 
 He seemed idiotically inflexible, and did not 
 go. But I did. I found Miss Mannersley ex- 
 quisitely dressed and looking singularly animated 
 and pretty. The lambent glow of her inscrutable 
 eye as she turned towards me might have been 
 flattering but for my uneasiness in regard to Enri- 
 
256 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 
 
 quez. I delivered his excuses as naturally as I 
 could. She stiffened for an instant, and seemed 
 an inch higher. * I am so sorry,' she said at last 
 in a level voice. ' I thought he would have been 
 so amusing. Indeed, I had hoped we might try 
 an old Moorish dance together which I have found 
 and was practising.' 
 
 ' He would have been delighted, I know. It's 
 a great pity he didn't come with me,' I said 
 quickly; 'but,' -I could not help adding, with 
 emphasis on her own words, * he is such an " ex- 
 traordinary creature," you know.' 
 
 ' I see nothing extraordinary in his devotion 
 to an aged relative,' returned Miss Mannersley, 
 quietly, as she turned away, ' except that it justifies 
 my respect for his character.' 
 
 I do not know why I did not relate this to him. 
 Possibly I had given up trying to understand them; 
 perhaps I was beginning to have an idea that he 
 could take care of himself. But I was somewhat 
 surprised a few days later when, after asking me 
 to go with him to a rodeo at his uncle's, he added 
 composedly, ' You will meet Mees Boston.' 
 
 I stared, and but for his manner would have 
 thought it part of his extravagance. For the 
 rodeo a yearly chase of wild cattle for the purpose 
 of lassoing and branding them was a rather 
 brutal affair, and purely a man's function ; it was 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRJOUEZ 257 
 
 also a family affair a property stock-taking of the 
 great Spanish cattle-owners and strangers, par- 
 ticularly Americans, found it difficult to gain access 
 to its mysteries and \hefesta that followed. 
 
 ' But how did she get an invitation ? ' I asked. 
 ' You did not dare to ask ' I began. 
 
 ' My friend,' said Enriquez, with a singular 
 deliberation, ' the great and respectable Boston 
 herself, and her serene, venerable oncle, and other 
 Boston magnificos, have of a truth done me the 
 inexpressible honour to solicit of my degraded, 
 papistical oncle that she shall come that she shall 
 of her own superior eye behold the barbaric cus- 
 toms of our race.' 
 
 His tone and manner were so peculiar that I 
 stepped quickly before him, laid my hands on his 
 s-houlders, and looked down into his face. But 
 the actual devil which I now for the first time saw 
 in his eyes went out of them suddenly, and he re- 
 lapsed again in affected languishment in his chair. 
 1 1 shall be there, friend Pancho,' he said, with a 
 preposterous gasp. * I shall nerve my arm to 
 lasso the bull, and tumble him before her at her 
 feet. I shall throw the " buck-jump " mustang at 
 the same sacred spot. I shall pluck for her the 
 buried chicken at full speed from the ground, and 
 present it to her. You shall see it, friend Pancho. 
 I shall be there.' 
 
258 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 He was as good as his word. When Don 
 Pedro Amador, his uncle, installed Miss Manners- 
 ley, with Spanish courtesy, on a raised platform 
 in the long valley where the rodeo took place, the 
 gallant Enriquez selected a bull from the fright- 
 ened and galloping herd, and, cleverly isolating him 
 from the band, lassoed his hind legs, and threw 
 him exactly before the platform where Miss Man- 
 nersley was seated. It was Enriquez who caught 
 the unbroken mustang, sprang from his own saddle 
 to the bare back of his captive, and with only the 
 lasso for a bridle, halted him on rigid haunches 
 at Miss Mannersley's feet. It was Enriquez who, 
 in the sports that followed, leaned from his saddle 
 at full speed, caught up the chicken buried to its 
 head in the sand without wringing its neck, and 
 tossed it unharmed and fluttering toward his mis- 
 tress. As for her, she wore the same look of ani- 
 mation that I had seen in her face at our previous 
 meeting. Although she did not bring her sketch- 
 book with her, as at the bull-fight, she did not 
 shrink from the branding of the cattle, which took 
 place under her very eyes. 
 
 Yet I had never seen her and Enriquez to- 
 gether ; they had never, to my actual knowledge, 
 even exchanged words. And now, although she 
 was the guest of his uncle, his duties seemed to 
 keep him in the field, and apart from her. Nor, 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 259 
 
 as far as I could detect, did either apparently 
 make any effort to have it otherwise. The 
 peculiar circumstance seemed to attract no atten- 
 tion from any one else. But for what I alone 
 knew or thought I knew of their actual rela- 
 tions, I should have thought them strangers. 
 
 But I felt certain that the festa which took 
 place in the broad patio of Don Pedro's casa 
 would bring them together. And later in the 
 evening, as we were all sitting on the verandah 
 watching the dancing of the Mexican women, 
 whose white-flounced sayas were monotonously 
 rising and falling to the strains of two melancholy 
 harps, Miss Mannersley rejoined us from the 
 house. She seemed to be utterly absorbed and 
 abstracted in the barbaric dances, and scarcely 
 moved as she leaned over the railing with her 
 cheek resting on her hand. Suddenly she arose 
 with a little cry. 
 
 ' What is it ? ' asked two or three. 
 
 1 Nothing only I have lost my fan.' She had 
 risen, and was looking abstractedly on the floor. 
 
 Half a dozen men jumped to their feet. 'Let 
 me fetch it,' they said. 
 
 ' No, thank you. I think I know where it is, 
 and will go for it myself.' She was moving 
 away. Bancroft Library 
 
 But Don Pedro interposed with Spanish 
 
 S 2 
 
260 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 gravity. Such a thing was not to be heard of in 
 his casa. If the senorita would not permit him 
 an old man to go for it, it must be brought by 
 Enriquez, her cavalier of the day. 
 
 But Enriquez was not to be found. I glanced 
 at Miss Mannersley's somewhat disturbed face, 
 and begged her to let me fetch it. I thought I 
 saw a flush of relief come into her pale cheek as 
 she said, in a lower voice, ' On the stone seat in 
 the garden.' 
 
 I hurried away, leaving Don Pedro still pro 
 testing. I knew the gardens, and the stone seat 
 at an angle of the wall, not a dozen yards from 
 the casa. The moon shone full upon it. There, 
 indeed, lay the little grey-feathered fan. But 
 close beside it, also, lay the crumpled, black, gold- 
 embroidered riding gauntlet that Enriquez had 
 worn at the rodeo. 
 
 I thrust it hurriedly into my pocket, and ran 
 back. As I passed through the gateway I asked 
 a peon to send Enriquez to me. The man stared. 
 Did I not know that Don Enriquez had ridden 
 away two minutes ago ? 
 
 When I reached the verandah, I handed the 
 fan to Miss Mannersley without a word., * Bueno,' 
 said Don Pedro, gravely ; ' it is as well. There 
 shall be no bones broken over the getting of it, 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 261 
 
 for Enriquez, I hear, has had to return to the 
 Encinal this very evening.' 
 
 Miss Mannersley retired early. I did not in- 
 form her of my discovery, nor did I seek in any 
 way to penetrate her secret. There was no doubt 
 that she and Enriquez had been together, perhaps 
 not for the first time ; but what was the result of 
 their interview ? From the young girl's demeanour 
 and Enriquez' hurried departure, I could only 
 fear the worst for him. Had he been tempted 
 into some further extravagance and been angrily 
 rebuked, or had he avowed a real passion con- 
 cealed under his exaggerated mask and been 
 deliberately rejected ? I tossed uneasily half the 
 night, following in my dreams my poor friend's 
 hurrying hoof-beats, and ever starting from my 
 sleep at what I thought was the sound of galloping 
 hoofs. 
 
 I rose early, and lounged into the patio ; but 
 others were there before me, and a small group of 
 Don Pedro's family were excitedly discussing some- 
 thing, and I fancied they turned away awkwardly 
 and consciously as I approached. There was an 
 air of indefinite uneasiness everywhere. A strange 
 fear came over me with the chill of the early 
 morning air. Had anything happened to Enri- 
 quez ? I had always looked upon his extravagance 
 
262 THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUEZ 
 
 as part of his playful humour. Could it be possible 
 that under the sting of rejection he had made his 
 grotesque threat of languishing efTacement real ? 
 Surely Miss Mannersley would know or suspect 
 something, if it were the case. 
 
 I approached one of the Mexican women and 
 asked if the senorita had risen. The woman 
 started, and looked covertly round before she re- 
 plied. Did not Don Pancho know that Miss 
 Mannersley and her maid had not slept in their 
 beds that night, but had gone, none knew where ? 
 
 For an instant I felt an appalling sense of my 
 own responsibility in this suddenly serious situa- 
 tion, and hurried after the retreating family group. 
 But as I entered the corridor a vaquero touched 
 me on the shoulder. He had evidently just dis- 
 mounted, and was covered with the dust of the 
 road. He handed me a note written in pencil on 
 a leaf from Miss Mannersley's sketch-book. It 
 was in Enriquez' hand, and his signature was 
 followed by his most extravagant rubric. 
 
 ' Friend Pancho : When you read this line you 
 shall of a possibility think I am no more. That 
 is where you shall slip up, my little brother ! I am 
 much more I am two times as much, for I have 
 marry Miss Boston. At the Mission Church, at 
 five of the morning, sharp ! No cards shall be 
 
THE DEVOTION OF ENRIQUE Z 263 
 
 left ! I kiss the hand of my venerable uncle-in- 
 law. You shall say to him that we fly to the 
 South wilderness as the combined evangelical 
 missionary to the heathen ! Miss Boston herself 
 say this. Ta-ta ! How are you now?' Your 
 own ENRIQUEZ.' 
 
 THE END 
 
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 Translated by Sir HENRY ATTWBLL. 
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 Jeux d'Esprit. Edited by HENRY S. LEIGH. 
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 Thoreau : His Life and Aims. By H. A. PAGB. 
 Puniana. By Hon. HUGH ROWLEY. 
 More Puniana. By Hon. HUGH ROWLEY. 
 The Philosophy of Handwriting. 
 By Stream and Sea. By WILLIAM SENIOR. 
 Leaves from a Naturalist's Note-Book. By Dr. 
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 Diversions of the Echo Club. BAYARD TAYLOR. 
 Bongs for Sailors. By W. C. BENNETT. 
 Lives of the Necromancers. By W. GODWIN. 
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 Post 8vo, cloth limp, as. per Volume. 
 
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 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 La Mort d' Arthur : Selections from MALLORY. 
 Provincial Letters of Blaise Pascal. 
 Maxims and Reflections of Rochefoucauld. 
 
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 Wanderings In Patagonia. By JULIUS BEER- 
 
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 Merrie England in the Olden Time. By G. DANIEL. 
 
 Illustrated by ROBERT CRUIKSHANK. 
 Circus Life. By THOMAS FROST. 
 Lives of the Conjurers. By THOMAS FnosT. 
 The Old Showmen and the Old London Fairs. By 
 
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 Low-Life Deeps. By JAMBS GREENWOOD. 
 Tu Wild* of London. By JAMES GREENWOOD. 
 
 Tunis. By Cher. HESSE-WARTBGG. 22 Illusts, 
 Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack. 
 World Behind the Scenes. By P. FITZGERALD. ' 
 Tavern Anecdotes and Sayings. 
 The Genial Showman. By E. P. KINGSTON. 
 Story of London Parks. By JACOB LARWOOD. 
 London Characters. By HENRY MAYHEW 
 Seven Generations of Executioners. 
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 WARREN STODDARD. Illustrated. 
 
CHATTO & W1NDUS, no & in St. Martin's Lane, London, W.C. 37 
 
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 The Old Maid's Sweetheart. By A. ST. AUBYN. i A Lost Soul. By W. L. ALDRN. 
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 Taken from the Enemy. By H. NEWBOLT. 
 
 Black Spirits and Whita. By R. A. CRAM. 
 
 My Library. Printed on laid paper, post 8vo, half-Roxburghe, as. 6d. each. 
 
 Citation and Examination of William Shakapeare. I Christie Johnstone. By CHARLES READB 
 
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 The Journal of Maurice de Gnerin. _ ' The Dramatic Essays of Charles Lamb. _ 
 
 The Pocket Library. Post 8vo, printed on laid paper and hf.-bd., as. each. 
 
 The Essays of Elia. By CHARLES LAMB. White's Natural History of Selborne. 
 
 Roomson Crusoe. Illustrated by G. CRUiKSHANK. Gulliver s Travels, &c. By Dean SWIFT. 
 
 Whims and Oddities. By THOMAS HOOD. Plays by RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. 
 
 The Barber's Chair, By DOUGLAS JERROLD. Anecdotes of the Clergy. By JACOB LARWOOD. 
 
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 Leigh Hunt's Essays. Edited by E. OLLIER. at the Breakfast-Table. By O. W. HOLMES. 
 
 THE PICCADILLY NOVELS. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITIONS OF NovELS.many Illustrated, crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3$. 6d. each. 
 
 By F. M. ALLEN. 
 
 Green as Grass. 
 
 Phillstia. 
 
 Strange Stories. 
 
 Babylon. 
 
 For Maimle's Sake, 
 
 By GRANT ALLEN. 
 
 The Great Taboo. 
 
 Dumaresq's Daughter. 
 Duchess of Powysland. 
 Blood Royal. 
 Ivan Greet's Master- 
 piece. 
 
 The Scallywag. 
 At Market Value. 
 Under Sealed Order*. 
 
 In all Shades. 
 The Beckoning Hand. 
 The Devil's Die. 
 This Mortal Coil. 
 The Tents of Shem. 
 
 By MARY ANDERSON. 
 Othello's Occupation. 
 
 By EDWIN L. ARNOLD. 
 Phra the Phoenician. | Constable of St. Nicholas. 
 
 By ROBERT BARR. 
 In a Steamer Chair. I From Whose Bourne. 
 
 By FRANK BARRETT. 
 The Woman of the Iron Bracelets. 
 The Harding Scandal. 
 
 By 'BELLE.' 
 Vashti and Esther. 
 By Sir W. BESANT and J. RICE. 
 
 Ready MoneyMortiboy 
 Mv Little Girl. 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 This Son of Vulcan. 
 The Golden Butterfly. 
 The Monks of The'.ema. 
 
 By Celia's Arbour. 
 Chap ain of the Fleet. 
 The Seamy Side. 
 The Case of Mr. Lucraft. 
 In Trafalgar s fcay. 
 The Ten Years Tenant. 
 
 By 
 
 ioi-ts 
 
 Sir WALTER BESANT. 
 
 All Sorts and Condi 
 
 tions of Men. 
 The Captains' Room. 
 All in a Garden Fair. 
 Dorothy Forster. 
 Uncle Jack. 
 TJie World Went Very 
 
 W*ll Then. 
 Children of Gibeon. 
 Herr Faulus. 
 For Faith and Freedom. 
 To Call Her Mine. 
 
 By PAUL BOURGET. 
 A Living Lie 
 
 By ROBERT BUCHANAN. 
 ""- ---- *--' ' 
 
 The Bell of St. Paul's. 
 The Holy Rose. 
 Armorel of Lyonesse. 
 S. Katherine's bv Tower 
 Verbena Camellia 6t- 
 
 phanotis. 
 The Ivory Gate. 
 The Rebel Queen. 
 Beyond the Dreams of 
 
 Avarice. 
 The Master Craftsman. 
 
 Shadow of the Sword. 
 
 A Child of Nature. 
 
 God and the Man. 
 
 Martyrdom of Madeline 
 
 Love Me for Ever. 
 
 Annan Water. 
 
 Foxglove Manor. 
 
 ROB. BUCHANAN & HY. MURRAY 
 
 The Charlatan. 
 
 By J. MITCHELL CHAPPLE. 
 The Minor Chord. 
 
 The New Abelard. 
 Matt. | Rachel Dene. 
 Master of the Mine. 
 The H-ir of Linne. 
 Woman and the Man. 
 Red and White Heather. 
 
 By HALL CAINE. 
 
 The Shadow of a Crime. I The Deemster. 
 A Bon of Hagar. | 
 
 By MACLAREN COBBAN. 
 
 The Red Sultan. | The Burden of Isabel. 
 
 By MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS. 
 
 Transmigration. | From Midnight to Mid- 
 
 Blacksmith & Scholar. night. 
 The Village Comedy. | You Play me False. 
 By WILKIE COLLINS. 
 The Frozen Deer 
 
 ;p. 
 
 The Two Destinies. 
 The Law and the Lady. 
 The Haunted Hotel. 
 The Fallen Leaves. 
 Jezebel's Daughter. 
 The Black Robe. 
 Heart and Science. 
 ' I Say No. 1 
 Little Novell. 
 The Evil Genius. 
 The Legacy of Cain. 
 A Rogue's Life. 
 Blind Love. 
 
 Annadale. | AfterDark. 
 
 No Name. 
 
 Antouina. 
 
 Basil. 
 
 Hide and Seek. 
 
 The Dead Secret. 
 
 Queen of Hearts. 
 
 My Miscellanies. 
 
 The Woman in Whit*. 
 
 The Moonstone. 
 
 Man and Wife. 
 
 Poor Miss Finch. 
 
 Miss or Mrs. ? 
 
 The New Magdalen. 
 
 By DUTTON COOK. 
 Paul Foster's Daughter. 
 
 By E. H. COOPER. 
 Geoffory Hamilton. 
 
 By V. CECIL COTES. 
 Two Girls on a Barge. 
 
 By C. EGBERT CRADDOCK. 
 His Vanished Star. 
 
 By H. N. CRELLIN. 
 Romances of the Old Seraglio. 
 
 By MATT CRIA1. 
 The Adventures of a Fair Rebel. 
 
 By S. R. CROCKETT and others. 
 Tales of Our Coast. 
 
 By B. M. CROKER. 
 
 Village Tales & Jungle 
 
 Tragedies. 
 
 The Real Lady Hi' da. 
 Married or Single. 
 Two Masters. 
 In theKingdom of Kerry 
 
 Diana Barring ton. 
 Proper Pride. 
 A Family Likeness. 
 Pretty Miss Neville. 
 A Bird of Passage. 
 To Let. 1 | Mr. Jervls. 
 
 By WILLIAM CYPLES. 
 Hearts of Gold. 
 
 By ALPHONSE DAUDET. 
 The Evangelist ; or, Port Salvat on. 
 
 By H. COLEMAN DAVIDSON. 
 Mr. Sadler s Daughters. 
 
 By ERASMUS DAWSON. 
 The Fountain of Youth. 
 
 By JAMES DE MILLE. 
 A Castle in Spain 
 
a8 CHATTO & WINDUS, no & m St. Martin's Lane, London, W.C. 
 
 THE PICCADILLY (3/6) NOVELS continued. 
 
 By. J. LEITH DERWENT. 
 Our Lady of Tears. | Circe's Lovers. 
 
 By DICK DONOVAN. 
 Tracked to Doom. I The Mystery of Jamaica 
 Man from Manchester. Terrace. 
 
 By A. CONAN DOYLE. 
 The Firm of Gird!e*tone. 
 
 By S. JEANNETTE DUNCAN. 
 A Daughter of To-day. | Vernon's Aunt. 
 By G. MANVILLE FENN. 
 The New Mistress. I The Tiger Lily. 
 Witness to the Deed. | The White Virgin. 
 
 By PERCY FITZGERALD. 
 Fatal Zero R g FRANCILLON> 
 
 One bv One. I Ropes of Sand. 
 
 A Dog and his Shadow. Jack Doyle's Daughter. 
 
 refacedV Sir BARTLE FRERE. 
 EDWARD GARRETT. 
 
 The Red B ^ hir c t8 H ARLES GIBBON. 
 
 Kobin Gray. I The Golden Shaft. 
 
 Loving a Dream. 
 
 By E. GLANVILLE. 
 The Lost Heiress. I The Fossicker. 
 
 A Fair Colonist. The Golden Rock. 
 
 By E. J. GOODMAN.. 
 The Fate of Herbert Wayne. 
 
 By Rev. S. BARING GOULD. 
 
 CECIL 'GRIFFITH. 
 
 ~j GRUNDY. 
 
 The Days of his Vanity. 
 
 By THOMAS HARDY. 
 
 Under the Greenwood Tree. 
 
 By BRET HARTE, 
 
 A Waif of the Plains. 
 A Ward of the Golden 
 Gate 
 
 . 
 
 A Sappho of Green 
 Springs. 
 
 Col. Star-bottle's Client. 
 Susy 
 
 Sally Dows. 
 
 A Protegee 
 
 Hamlins. 
 
 of Jack 
 
 a. 
 
 Bell-Ringer of Angel's. 
 Clarence. 
 Barker's Luck. 
 Devil's Ford. 
 
 WTU B r U1U. 
 
 By JULIAN HAWTHORNE. 
 
 Garth. 
 
 Ellice Quentin. 
 
 Sebastian Strome. 
 
 Dust. 
 
 Fortune's Fool. 
 
 Beatrix Randolph. 
 David Poindexter s Dis- 
 appearance. 
 The Spectre of the 
 icra. 
 
 By Sir A. HELPS. 
 
 
 a. A. HENTY. 
 
 The Common Ancestor. 
 
 By Mrs. HUNGERFORD. 
 Lady Verner's Flight. I The Professor's Experi- 
 The Red House Mystery ment. 
 The Three Graces. | A Point of Conscience. 
 
 By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT. 
 The Leaden Casket. I Self- Condemned. 
 That Other Person. | Mrs. Juliet. 
 
 By C. J. CUTCLIFFE HYNE. 
 Honour of Thieves. 
 
 By R. ASHE KING. 
 A Drawn Game. 
 The Wearing of the Green. 1 
 
 By EDMOND LEPELLETIER. 
 Madame Sans Gene. 
 
 By HARRY LINDSAY. 
 Rhoda Roberts. 
 
 By HENRY W. LUCY. 
 Gideon Fleyc*. 
 
 By E. LYNN LINTON. 
 
 Patricia Kemball. Sowing the Wind. 
 
 Under which Lord 7 The Atonement of Learn 
 ' My Love 1 ' Dundas. 
 
 lone. The World Well Lost. 
 
 Paston Carew. The One Too Many. 
 
 By JUSTIN MCCARTHY 
 
 Donna Quixote. 
 
 Maid of Athens. 
 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 
 The Dictator. 
 
 Red Diamonds. 
 
 The Riddle King. 
 
 A Fair Saxon. 
 
 Linlsy Rochf9rd. 
 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 
 Camiola. 
 
 Waterdale Neighbours. 
 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 
 Miss Misanthrope. 
 
 By JUSTIN H. MCCARTHY. 
 A London Legend. 
 
 By GEORGE MACDONALD. 
 Heather and Snow. | Phantasies. 
 By L. T. MEADE. 
 
 A Soldier of Fortune. I The Voice of the 
 In an Iron Grip. I Charmer. 
 
 By LEONARD MERRICK. 
 This Stage of Fools. 
 
 By BERTRAM MITFORD. 
 The Gun Runner. I The King's Assegai. 
 
 The Luck of Gerard Renshaw Fanning ' 
 Ridgeley. Quest. 
 
 By J. E. MUDDOCK. 
 Maid Marian and Robin Hood. 
 Basile the Jester. | Young Lochinvar. 
 
 By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 
 A Life's Atonement. 
 Joseph's Coat. 
 Coals of Fire. 
 Old Blazer's Hero. 
 Val Strange. | Hearts. 
 A Model Father. 
 By the Gate of the Sea. 
 
 Cynic Fortune. 
 The Way of the World. 
 BobMartin's Little GirL 
 Time's Revenges. 
 A Wasted Crime. 
 In Direst Peril. 
 Mount Despair. 
 A Capful o Nails. 
 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 First Person Singular. 
 
 By MURRAY and HERMAN. 
 The Bishops' Bible. I Paul Jones s Alia*. 
 One Traveller Returns. I 
 
 By HUME NISBET. 
 Bail Up I ' 
 
 By W. E. NORRIS. 
 
 A Weird Gift. 
 
 By OUIDA. 
 
 Wooden 
 
 Held in Bondage. 
 
 Strathmore. 
 
 Chandos. 
 
 Under Two Flag!. 
 
 Idalia 
 
 Cecil Castlemaine's 
 
 Gage. 
 
 Tricotrin. | Puck. 
 Folle Farine. 
 A Dog of Fianders. 
 Pascarel. 1 Signa. 
 Princess Napraxine. 
 Ariadne. 
 
 By MARGARET A. PAUL. 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 By JAMES PAYN. 
 Lost Sir Massingberd. 
 Less Black than We're 
 
 Painted. 
 
 A Confidential Agent. 
 A Grape from a Thorn. 
 In Peril and Privation. 
 The Mystery of Mir- 
 By Proxy. [bridge. 
 The Canon's Ward. 
 Walter's Word. 
 
 By WILL PAYNE. 
 Jerry the Dreamer. 
 
 By Mrs. CAMPBELL PRAED. 
 Outlaw and Lawmaker. I Mis. Tregaskiss. 
 Christina Chard. 
 
 By E. C. PRICE. 
 
 Valentina. I Mrs. Lancaster's Rival, 
 
 The Foreigner!. 
 
 Two Little 
 
 Shoes. 
 
 In a Winter City. 
 Friendship. 
 Moths. I Ruffino. 
 Pipistrello. 
 A Village Commune.-] 
 Bimbi. | Wanda. 
 Frescoes. | Othmar. 
 In Maremma. 
 Byrhn. | Guilderoy. 
 Santa Barbara. 
 Two Offenders. 
 
 High Spirits. 
 Under One Roof. 
 Glow worm Tales. 
 The Talk of the Town. 
 Holiday Tasks. 
 For Cash Only. 
 The Burnt Million. 
 The Word and the WilL 
 Sunny Stories. 
 A Trying Patient. 
 
CHATTO & WINDUS, no & in St. Martin's Lane, London, W.C. 20 
 
 THE PICCADILLY (3/6) NOVELS continued. 
 By RICHARD PRYCE. 
 
 Miss Maxwell's Affections. 
 
 By CHARLES READE. 
 
 - -"-- ' The Double Marriage. 
 
 Griffith Gaunt. 
 Foul Play. 
 Pat Yourself in His 
 
 Place. 
 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 A Simpleton. 
 A Woman Hater. 
 The Jilt, & otherStories ; 
 
 and Good Stories of 
 
 Peg Woffington ; and 
 Christie Johnstone. 
 
 Hard Cash. 
 
 Cloister & the Hearth. 
 
 Never Too Late to Mend 
 
 The Course of True 
 Love Never Did Run 
 Smooth ; and Single- 
 heart andDoubleface. 
 of 
 
 Men and other Ani- 
 mals. 
 
 A Perilous Secret. 
 
 Beadiana; and Bible 
 Characters. 
 
 Autobiography of a 
 
 a Thief; Jack of all 
 
 Trades ; A Hero and 
 
 a Martyr ; and The 
 
 Wandering Heir. 
 Love Me Little, Love 
 
 Me Long. 
 
 By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL. 
 Weird Stories. 
 
 By AMELIE RIVES. 
 Barbara Dering. 
 
 The Hands of Justice. | Woman in the Dark. 
 
 By DORA RUSSELL. 
 A Country Sweetheart. I The Drift of Fate. 
 By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 
 Round the Galley Fire. ' My Shipmate Louise. 
 In the Middle Watch. 
 A Voyage to the Cape. 
 Book for the Hammock. 
 The Mystery of the 
 
 Ocean Star.' 
 The Romance of Jenny 
 
 Harlowe. 
 An Ocean Tra_ 
 By JO 
 
 Guy Waterman. 
 Bound to the Wheel. 
 
 Alone on Wide Wide Sea 
 The Phantom Death. 
 Is He the Man ? 
 The Good Ship 'Mo- 
 
 hock.' 
 
 The Convict Ship. 
 Heart of Oak. 
 The Tale of the Ten. 
 N SAUNDERS. 
 
 I The Two Dreamers. 
 The Lion in the Path. 
 
 By KATHARINE SAUNDERS. 
 
 Margaret and Elizabeth I Heart Salvage. 
 Gideon's Rock. Sebastian. 
 
 TheHl lfy ADELINE 1 SERGEANT. 
 Dr. Endicott s Experiment. 
 
 By HAWLEY SMART. 
 
 Without Love or Licence. 
 
 By T. W. SPEIGHT. 
 
 A Secret of the Sea. I The Master of Trenance. 
 The Grey Monk. 
 
 By ALAN ST. AUBYN. 
 
 f Trinity. In Face of the World. 
 
 Orchard Damerel. 
 
 The Tremlett Diamonds. 
 
 A Fellow of Trinity. 
 The Junior Dean. 
 Master of St.Benedict's. 
 To his Own Master. 
 
 By JOHN STAFFORD. 
 Doris and^L R ^ STERN DALE. 
 The Afghan Knife. 
 
 By BERTHA THOMAS. 
 Proud Maisie. | The Violin-Player. 
 
 By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. 
 The Way we Live Now. I Scarborough s Family. 
 Frau Frohmann. The Land Leaguers. 
 
 By FRANCES E. TROLLOPE. 
 Like Ships upon the I Anne Furness. 
 Sea. Mabel's Progress. 
 
 By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c. 
 Stories from Foreign Novelists. 
 
 By MARK TWAIN. 
 The American Claimant. I Pudd'nhead WUson. 
 Thel,000,OQOBank-note. Tom Sawyer.Detective. 
 Tom Sawyer Abroad. 
 
 By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER. 
 Mistress Judith. 
 
 By SARAH TYTLER. 
 Lady Bell. I The Blackball Ghosts. 
 
 Buried Diamonds. | The Macdonald Lass. 
 
 By ALLEN UPWARD. 
 
 The Queen against Owen | The Prince of Balkistan 
 
 By E. A. VIZETELLY. 
 
 The Shadow of Hilton Fernbrook. 
 
 By JOHN STRANGE WINTER. 
 A Soldier's Children. 
 
 By MARGARET WYNMAN. 
 
 By 
 
 E ZOLA 
 
 The Downfall. I Money. | Lourdes. 
 
 The Dream. The Fat and the Thin. 
 
 Dr. Pascal. I Rome. 
 
 CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, as. each. 
 
 By ARTEMUS WARD. BY FRANK BARRETT. 
 
 Artemus Ward Complete. 
 
 Fettered for Life. 
 Little Lady Linton. 
 
 A Prodigal s Progress. 
 Found Guilty. 
 
 By EDMOND ABOUT. 
 
 The Fellah. 
 
 Between Life & Death. 
 The Sin of Olga Zassou- 
 lich. 
 
 A Recoiling Vengeance. 
 For Love and Honour. 
 John Ford ; and His 
 
 By HAM1L 
 
 Carr of Carrlyon. 
 
 TON AIDE. 
 
 Confidences. 
 
 Folly Morrison. 
 Lieut. Barnabas. 
 Honest Davie. 
 
 Helpmate. 
 The Woman of the Iron 
 Bracelets. 
 
 By MARY 
 
 ALBERT. 
 
 By Sir W. BESANT and J. RICE. 
 
 Brooke Finchley's Daugl 
 By Mrs. AL 
 Maid, Wife or Widow 7 
 
 iter. 
 ,EXANDER. 
 
 Valerie's Fat*. 
 
 Ready Money Mortiboy 
 My Little Girl. 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 This Son of Vulcan. 
 The Golden Butterfly. 
 
 By Celia's Arbour. 
 Chaplain of the Fleet 
 The Seamy Side. 
 The Case of Mr. Lucraf t. 
 In Trafalgar s Bay. 
 
 By GRANT ALLEN. 
 
 The Monks of Theloma. 
 
 The Ten Years' Tenant. 
 
 Philistia. 
 
 The Great Taboo. 
 
 By Sir WALTER BESANT. 
 
 Strange Stories. 
 
 Dumaresq s Daughter. 
 
 Ail Sorts and Condi- For Faith and Freedom. 
 
 Babylon 
 
 Duchess of Powysland. 
 
 tions of Men. 
 
 T > Call Her Mine. 
 
 For Maimie's Sake. 
 
 Blood Royal. 
 
 The Captains' Room. 
 
 The Bell of St. Paul's. 
 
 In all Shades. 
 
 Ivan Greet's Master- 
 
 All in a Garden Fair. 
 
 The Holy Rose. 
 
 The Beckoning Hand. 
 The Devil's Die. 
 The Tents of Shem. 
 
 piece. 
 
 The Scallywag. 
 This Mortal CoiL 
 
 Dorothy Forster. 
 Uncle Jack. 
 The World Went Very 
 
 Armorel of Lyonesse. 
 S.Katherine's by Towor. 
 Verbena Camellia Ste- 
 
 
 
 Well Then 
 
 
 By E. LESTER ARNOLD. 
 
 Phra the Phoenician. 
 
 Children of Gibeon. 
 Herr Paulus. 
 
 The Ivory Gate. 
 The Rebel Queen. 
 
 By SHELSLEY BEAUCHAMP. 
 
 By AMBROSE BIERCE. 
 
 OrantUy Grange. 
 
 
 In the Midst of Life. 
 
CHATTO & WINDUS, no & in St. Martin's Lane, London. W.C. 
 
 TWO-SHILLING NOVELS continued. 
 By FREDERICK BOYLE. 
 
 Camp Notes. Chronicles of Ni 
 
 Savage Life. 
 
 BY SRE' 
 Californlan Stories. 
 Gabriel Conroy. 
 The Luck of Roaring 
 
 Camp. 
 An Heiress of Red Dog. 
 
 By HAROLD BRYDGES. 
 Uncle Sam at Home. 
 
 By ROBERT BUCHANAN. 
 
 No man's 
 Land. 
 HARTE. 
 
 Flip. I Marnja. 
 
 A Phyllis of the Sierras. 
 A Waif of the Plains. 
 A Ward of the Golden 
 Gate. 
 
 Shadow of the Sword. 
 A Child of Nature. 
 God and the Man. 
 Love Me for Ever. 
 Foxglove Manor. 
 
 The Martyrdom of Ma- 
 deline. 
 
 The New Abelard. 
 Matt. 
 
 The Heir of Linne. 
 Woman and the Man. 
 
 Foxglove manor. 
 
 The Master ot the Mine. 
 
 Annan Water. 
 
 By HALL CAINE. 
 The Shadow of a Crime. I The Deemster. 
 A Son of Hagar. 
 
 By Commander CAMERON. 
 The Cruise of the 'Black Prince.' 
 
 By Mrs. LOVETT CAMERON. 
 Deceivers Ever. | Juliet's Guardian. 
 
 By HAYDEN CARRUTH. 
 The Adventures of Jones. 
 
 By AUSTIN CLARE. 
 For the Love of a Lass. 
 
 By Mrs. ARCHER CLIVE. 
 Paul Ferroll. 
 Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife. 
 
 By MACLAREN COBBAN. 
 The Cure of Souls. | The Red Sultan. 
 By C. ALLSTON COLLINS. 
 The Bar Sinister. 
 
 By MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS. 
 Sweet and Twenty. 
 The Village Comedy. 
 You Play me False. 
 Blacksmith and Scholar 
 Frances. 
 
 Sweet Anne Page. 
 Transmigratiou. 
 From Midnight to Mid 
 
 night. 
 A Fight with Fortune. 
 
 By WILKIE COLLINS. 
 Armadale. | AfterDark. 
 No Name. 
 Antonina. 
 
 Hide and Seek. 
 The Dead Secret. 
 Queen of Hearts. 
 Miss or Mrs. ? 
 The New Magdalen. 
 The Frozen Deep. 
 The L aw and the Lady 
 The Two Destinies. 
 The Haunted HoteL 
 A Rogue's Life. 
 
 By M. J. COLQUHOUN. 
 Inch a Soldier. 
 
 By DUTTON COOK. 
 Leo. | Paul Foster's D 
 
 My Miscellanies. 
 The Woman in White. 
 The Moonstone. 
 Man and Wife. 
 Poor Miss Finch. 
 The Fallen Leaves. 
 Jezebel's Daughter. 
 The Black Robe. 
 Heart and Science. 
 ' I Say No I ' 
 The Evil Genius. 
 Little Novels. 
 Legacy of Cain. 
 Blind Love. 
 
 Every 
 
 | Paul Foster's Daug 
 By C. EGBERT CRADDOCK. 
 The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains. 
 
 By MATT CR1M. 
 The Adventures of a Fair Rebel. 
 
 By B. M. CROKER. 
 Pretty Miss Neville. Proper Pride. 
 Diana Harrington. 
 To Let.' 
 A Bird of Passage. 
 
 By W 
 Hearts of Gold. 
 
 By ALPHONSE DAUDET. 
 The Evangelist ; or, Port Salvation. 
 
 By ERASMUS DAVVSON. 
 The Fountain of Youth. 
 
 By JAMES DE MILLE. 
 
 A, Castle in Spain. 
 
 hter. 
 
 oper 
 
 A Family Likeness. 
 Village Tales and Jungle 
 
 Tragedies. 
 CYPLES. 
 
 By J. LEITH DERWENT. 
 
 Our Lady of Tears. | Circe's Lovers. 
 By CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 Sketches by Boz. I Nicholas Kickleby. 
 
 Oliver Twist. 
 
 By DICK DONOVAN. 
 
 The Man-Hunter. In the Grip of the Law. 
 
 Tracked and Taken. From Information Re- 
 Caught at Last 1 ceived. 
 Wanted I Tracked to Doom. 
 Who Poisoned Hetty Link by Link 
 
 Duncan ? Suspicion Aroused, 
 
 Man from Manchester. Dark Deeds. 
 A Detective's Triumphs Riddles Read. 
 
 By Mrs. ANNIE EDWARDES. 
 A Point of Honour. | Archie Lovell. 
 
 By M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. 
 Felicia. I Kitty. 
 
 By EDWARD EGQLESTON. 
 Boxy. 
 
 By G. MANVILLE FENN. 
 The New Mistress. I .The Tiger Lily. 
 
 Witness to the Deed. | 
 
 By PERCY FITZGERALD. 
 Bella Donna. I Second Mrs. Tillotson. 
 
 Never Forgotten. I Seventy fivo Brooke 
 
 Polly. Street. 
 
 Fatal Zero. | The Lady of Brant ome. 
 
 By P. FITZGERALD and others. 
 
 Strange Secrets. 
 
 By ALBANY DE FONBLANQUB. 
 Filthy Lucre. 
 
 By R. E. FRANCILLON. 
 
 King or Knave ? 
 
 One by One. 
 A Real Queen. 
 Queen Cophetua. 
 
 Romances of the Lai 
 
 Ropes of Sand. 
 
 A Dog and his Shado 
 
 By HAROLD FREDERIC. 
 
 Seth's Brother's Wife. | The Lawton G-rl. 
 Prefaced by Sir BARTLE FRERB. 
 Pandurang Hari. 
 
 By HAIN FRISWELL. 
 One of Two. 
 
 By EDWARD GARRETT. 
 The Capel Girls. 
 
 By GILBERT GAUL. 
 A Strange Manuscript. 
 
 By CHARLES GIBBON. 
 
 Robin Gray. 
 
 Fancy Free. 
 
 For Lack of Gold. 
 
 What will World Say 7 
 
 In Love and War. 
 
 For the King. 
 
 In Pastures Green. 
 
 Queen of the Meadow. 
 
 A Heart's Problem. 
 
 The Dead Heart. 
 
 In Honour Bound. 
 Flower of the Forest. 
 The Braes of Yarrow. 
 The Golden Shaft. 
 Of High Degree. 
 By Mead and Stream. 
 Loving a Dream. 
 A Hard Knot. 
 Heart's De.ight. 
 Blood-Money. 
 
 By WILLIAM GILBERT. 
 
 Dr. Austin's Guests. I The Wizard of th 
 James Duke. | Mountain. 
 
 By ERNEST GLANVILLE. 
 The Lost Heiress. I The Fossicker. 
 
 A Fair Colonist. 
 
 By Rev. S. BARING GOULD. 
 Red Spider. | Eve. 
 
 By HENRY GREVILLE. 
 A Noble Woman. | Nikanor. 
 
 By CECIL GRIFFITH. 
 Corinthia Marazion. 
 
 By SYDNEY GRUNDY. 
 The Days of his Vanity. 
 
 By JOHN HABBERTON. 
 
 | Country Luck. 
 W HALLIDAY. 
 
 Brueton s Bayou. 
 
 By ANDRE 
 Every day Papers. 
 
 By Lady DUFFUS HARDY. 
 
 Paul Wynter's Sacrifice. 
 
CfiATTO & WINDU3, ii6 & tti Sti Martin's Lnnt, London, W.& 
 
 TWO-SHILLING NOVELS continued. 
 
 By THOMAS HARDY. 
 Under the Greenwood Tree. 
 
 By J. BERWICK HARWOOD. 
 TUB Tenth Earl. 
 
 By JULIAN HAWTHORNE. 
 
 Beatrix Randolph. 
 
 Love or a Name. 
 
 David Poindexter's Dis- 
 appearance. 
 
 The Spectre of the 
 Camera. 
 
 Garth. 
 
 Ellice Quentin. 
 
 Fortune s Fool. 
 
 Miss Cadogna. 
 
 Sebastian Strome. 
 
 Dust. 
 
 By Sir ARTHUR HELPS. 
 Ivan de Biron. 
 
 By G. A. HENTY. 
 Rujub the Juggler. 
 
 By HENRY HERMAN. 
 A Leading Lady. 
 
 By HEADON HILL. 
 Zambra the Detective. 
 
 By JOHN HILL. 
 Treason Felony. 
 
 By Mrs. CASHEL HOEY. 
 
 The Lover's Creed. 
 
 By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER. 
 
 The House of Raby. 
 
 By TIGHE HOPKINS. 
 
 Twixt Love and Duty. 
 
 By Mrs. HUNGERFORD. 
 
 A Modern Circe. 
 Lady Verner's Flight. 
 The Red House Mystery 
 
 A Maiden all Forlorn. 
 
 In Durance Vile. 
 
 Marvel. 
 
 A Mental Struggle. 
 
 By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT. 
 Thornicrofts Model. I Self ondemned. 
 That Other Person. | The Leaden Casket. 
 By JEAN INGELOW. 
 
 >e Bv e WM. JAMESON. 
 
 The Dark Colleen. | Queen of Connaught. 
 
 By MARK KERSHAW. 
 Colonial Facts and Fictions. 
 
 By R. ASHE KING. 
 
 A Drawn Game. I Passion s Slav*. 
 
 ' The Wearing of the Bell Barry. 
 
 fireen ' By JOHN LEYS. 
 
 The ' 
 
 The Atonement of Learn 
 
 Dundas. 
 
 With a Silken Thread. 
 Rebel of the Family. 
 Sowing the Wind. 
 The One Too Many. 
 By HENRY W. LUCY. 
 
 oideonF B e y yc jusTiN MCCARTHY. 
 
 Patricia Kemball. 
 The World Well Lost. 
 Under which Lord? 
 Paston Carew. 
 My Love I 
 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 Waterdale Neighbours. 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 A Fair Saxon. 
 Linley Rochford. 
 
 "-"-BTBSoi! 
 
 Camiola. 
 Donna Quixote. 
 Maid of Athens. 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 The Dictator. 
 Red Diamond*. 
 MACCOLL. 
 
 Mr. Stranger's Sealed Packet. 
 
 By GEORGE MACDONALD 
 
 S. MACQUOID. 
 
 The 'Evil Eye. | Lost Rose. 
 
 By W. H. MALLOCK. 
 
 A Romance of the Nine- 1 The New RpubUt. 
 teenth Century. 1 
 
 By FLORENCE MARRYAT. 
 
 Open I Sesame ! I A Harvest of Wild OaU. 
 
 Fighting the Air. ] Written In Fire. 
 
 By J. MASTERMAN. 
 Half-a-dozen Daughters. 
 
 By BRANDER MATTHEWS. 
 
 Secret of the Sea. 
 
 By L. T. MEADE. 
 
 A Soldier of Fortune. 
 
 By LEONARD MERRICK. 
 
 The Man who was Good. 
 
 By JEAN MIDDLEMASS. 
 
 Touch and Go. | Mr. Dorllllon. 
 
 By Mrs. MOLESWORTH. 
 
 Hathercourt Rectory. 
 
 By J. E. MUDDOCK. 
 
 Stories Weird and Won- 1 From the Bosom of the 
 
 derful. Deep. 
 
 The Dead Man's Secret. I 
 
 By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 
 A Life's Atonement. 
 By the Gate of the Sea. 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 First Person Singular. 
 Bob Martin's Little Girl 
 Time's Revenges. 
 A Wasted Crime. 
 In Direst Peril. 
 
 A Model Father. 
 
 Joseph's Coat. 
 
 Ceals of Fire. 
 
 Val Strange. 
 
 Old Blazer s Hero. 
 
 Hearts. 
 
 The Way of the World. 
 
 Cynic Fortune. 
 
 By MURRAY and HERMAN. 
 One Traveller Returns, j The Bishops' Bible. 
 Paul Jones's Alias. | 
 
 By HENRY MURRAY. 
 
 A Game of Bluff. | A Song of Sixpence. 
 
 By HUME NISBET. 
 ' Ball Up ! ' I Dr.Bernard St. Vincent. 
 
 By ALICE O'HANLON. 
 The Unforeeeen. | Chance? or Fate? 
 
 By GEORGES OHNET. 
 Dr. Rameau. I A Weird Gift. 
 
 A Last Love. 
 
 By Mrs. OLIPHANT. 
 
 Whiteladies. I The Greatest Heiress in 
 
 The Primrose Path. | England. 
 
 By Mrs. ROBERT O'REILLY. 
 Phoebe s Fortunes. 
 
 By OUIDA. 
 
 Held in Bondage. 
 
 Strathmore. 
 
 Chandos. 
 
 Idalia. 
 
 Under Two Flags. 
 
 Cecil Castiemaine'sGage 
 
 Tricotrin. 
 
 Puck. 
 
 Folle Farine. 
 
 A Dog of Flanders. 
 
 Pascarel. 
 
 Signa. 
 
 Princess Napraxine. 
 
 In a Winter City. 
 
 Ariadne. 
 
 Friendship. 
 
 By MARGARET AGNES PAUL 
 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 By C. L. PIRKIS. 
 Lady Lovelace. 
 
 By EDGAR A. POE. 
 
 The Mystery of Marie Roget. 
 
 By Mrs. CAMPBELL PRAED 
 
 The Romance of a Station. 
 The Soul of Countess Adrian. 
 Outlaw and Lawmaker. 
 
 Two Lit. Wooden Shoes. 
 Moths. 
 Bimbl. 
 Pipistrello. 
 A Village Commune. 
 Wanda. 
 Othmar. 
 Frescoes. 
 In Maremma. 
 Guilderoy. 
 Ruffino. 
 Syrlin. 
 
 Santa Barbara. 
 Two Offenders. 
 Ouida's Wisdom, Wit, 
 and Pathos. 
 
 E. C. PR.CE. 
 
 Valentina. I Mrs. Lancaiter'i Rival 
 
 The Foreigners. I Gerald. 
 
 By RICHARD PRYCB. 
 Miss Maxwell's Affections. 
 
CHATfO & WINDUS, no & MI t. Martin's Lane. Lottdtin. 
 
 TWO-SHILLING NOVELS continued, 
 By JAMES PAYN. 
 
 The Talk of the Town. 
 
 Holiday Tasks. 
 
 A Perfect Treasure. 
 
 What He Cost Her. 
 
 A Confidential Agent. 
 
 Glow-worm Tales. 
 
 The Burnt Million. 
 
 Sunny Stories. 
 
 Lost Sir Massmgberd. 
 
 A Woman's Vengeance. 
 
 The Family Scapegrace. 
 
 Gwendoline s Harvest. 
 
 Like Father, Like Son. 
 
 Married Beneath Him 
 
 Not Wooed, but Won. 
 
 Less Black than We're 
 Painted. 
 
 Some Private Views. 
 
 A Graps from a Thorn. 
 
 The Mystery of Mr- 
 bridge 
 
 The Word and the Will. 
 
 A Prince of the Blood. 
 
 A Trying Patient. 
 By CHARLES READE. 
 It Is Never Too Late to A TerribleTemptation. 
 
 Mend. i Foul Play. 
 
 Christie Johnstone. The Wandering Heir. 
 
 The Double Marriage. Hard Cash. 
 Put Yourself in His Singleheart and Double- 
 face. 
 
 Good Stories of Men and 
 other Animals. 
 
 Peg Woffington. 
 
 Griffith Gaunt. 
 
 A Perilous Secret. 
 
 Bentinck's Tutor. 
 
 Murphy's Master. 
 
 A County Family. 
 
 At Her Mercy. 
 
 Cecils Tryst. 
 
 The Clyffards of dyffe. 
 
 The Foster Brothers. 
 
 Found Dead. 
 
 The Best of Husbands. 
 
 Walter's Word. 
 
 Halves. 
 
 Fallen Fortunes. 
 
 Humorous Stories. 
 
 230 Reward. 
 
 A Marine Residence. 
 
 Mirk Abbey. 
 
 By Proxy. 
 
 Under One Roof. 
 
 High Spirits. 
 
 Carlyon's Year. 
 
 From Exile. 
 
 For Cash Only. 
 
 Kit. 
 
 The Canon's Ward. 
 
 Place 
 Love Me Little, Love 
 
 Me Long. 
 The Cloister and the 
 
 Hearth. 
 The Course of True 
 
 Love. 
 The Jilt. 
 The Autobiography of 
 
 A Simpleton. 
 
 Readiana. 
 
 A Woman-Hater. 
 
 a Thief. 
 
 By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL. 
 
 Weird Stories. 
 Fairy Water. 
 Her Mother's Darling. 
 The Prince of Wales s 
 
 The Uninhabited House. 
 The Mystery inPala.ee. 
 
 Gardens. 
 The Nun's Curse. 
 Idle Tales. 
 
 Garden Party. 
 
 By AMEL1E RIVES. 
 
 Barbara Bering. 
 
 By P. W. ROBINSON. 
 
 Women are Strange. | The Hands of Justice. 
 By JAMES RUNCIMAN. 
 
 Skippers and Shellbacks. | Schools and Scholars. 
 Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart. 
 
 By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 
 The Romance of Jenny 
 Harlowe. 
 
 An Ocean Tragedy. 
 My Shipmate Louise. 
 Alone on a Wide Wide 
 Sea. 
 
 Round the Galley Fir 
 On the Fo k sle Head. 
 In ihe Middle Watch. 
 A Voyage to the Cape. 
 A Book for the Ham 
 
 mock. 
 The Mystery of tht 
 
 ' Ocean Star.' 
 
 By GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA. 
 Gaslight and Daylight. 
 
 By JOHN SAUNDERS. 
 Guy Waterman. I The Lion in the Path. 
 
 The Two Dreamers. | 
 
 By KATHARINE SAUNDERS. 
 Joan Merryweather. I Sebastian. 
 
 Margaret and Eliza- 
 
 The High Mills. 
 Heart Salvage. 
 
 By GEORGE R. SIMS. 
 Rogues and Vagabonds. Tinkletop's Crime. 
 The Ring o Bells. 
 Mary Jane's Memoirs. 
 Mary Jane Married. 
 Tales of To-day. 
 Dramas of Life. 
 
 By ARTHUR SKETCHLEY 
 A Match in the Dark. 
 
 Zeph. 
 
 My Two Wives. 
 Memoirs of a Landlady. 
 Scenes from the Show. 
 The 10 Commandments. 
 
 By HAWLEY SMART. 
 
 Witflout Love or Licence. 
 
 By T. W. SPEIGHT. 
 
 The Mysteries of Heron i Back to Life. 
 
 The LoudwaterTragedy. 
 Burgo s Romance. 
 Quittance in Full. 
 A Husband from the Sea 
 
 Dyke. 
 
 The Golden Hoop. 
 Hoodwinked. 
 By Devious Ways. 
 
 By ALAN ST. AUBYN. 
 A Fellow of Trinity. I To His Own Master. 
 The Junior Dean. Orchard Damerel 
 
 Master of St.Baaedlct's | 
 
 By R. A. STERNDALE. 
 
 The Afghan Knife. 
 
 By R. LOUIS STEVENSON. 
 
 Hew Arabian Nights. | Prince Otto. 
 
 By BERTHA THOMAS. 
 
 Cressida. I The Violin-Player. 
 
 Proud Maisie. 
 
 By WALTER THORNBURY. 
 
 Tales for the Marines. | Old Stories Retold. 
 
 By T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE. 
 
 Diamond Cut Diamond. 
 
 F. ELEANOR TROLLOPE. 
 
 By 
 
 e Shi 
 
 Like Ships npou the I Anne Furness. 
 Sea. | Mabel s Progress. 
 
 By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. 
 
 Frau Frohmann. 
 Marion Fay. 
 Kept in the Dark. 
 John Ealdigate. 
 The Way We Live Now. 
 
 The Land-Leaguers. 
 The American Senator. 
 Mr. Scarborough a 
 Family. 
 
 GoldenLion of Granper e 
 
 By J. T. TROWBR1DGE. 
 
 Farnell's Folly. 
 
 By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &C. 
 
 Stories from Foreign Novelists. 
 
 By MARK TWAIN. 
 
 A Pleasure Trip on the - 
 
 Continent. 
 The Gilded Age. 
 Huckleberry Finn. 
 MarkTwain's Sketches. 
 Tom Sawyer. 
 A Tramp Abroad. 
 Stolen White Elephant. 
 
 By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER. 
 
 Mistress Judith. 
 
 By SARAH TYTLER. 
 
 Life on the Mississippi. 
 The Prince and the 
 
 Pauper. 
 A Yankee at the Court 
 
 of King Arthur. 
 The 1,000,000 Bank- 
 
 Note. 
 
 The Huguenot Fami'y. 
 The Blackball Ghosts. 
 What SheCameThrough 
 Beauty and the Beast 
 Citoyenne Jacqueline. 
 
 The Bride's Pass. 
 Buried Diamonds. 
 St. Mungo's City. 
 Lady Bell. 
 Noblesse Oblige. 
 Disappeared. 
 
 By ALLEN UPWARD. 
 
 The Queen against O.vea. 
 By AARON WATSON and LILLIAS 
 WASSERMANN. 
 
 The Marquis of Caracas. 
 
 By WILLIAM WESTALL. 
 Trust-Money. 
 
 By Mrs. F. H. WILLIAMSON. 
 
 A Child Widow. 
 
 By J. S. WINTER. 
 
 Cavalry Life. | Regimental Legendi. 
 
 By H. F. WOOD. 
 
 The Passenger from Scotland Yard. 
 The Englishman of the Rue Cain. 
 
 By Lady WOOD. 
 & By a CELIA PARKER WOOLLEY. 
 
 Rachel Armstrong ; or, I.ove and Theology. 
 
 By EDMUND YATES. 
 
 The Forlorn Hope. I Castaway. 
 Land at Last. 
 
 OGDEN, SMALB AND CO. LIMITED, PRINTERS, GREAT SAFFRON HILL, I.Ct 
 

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