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Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbols — ► signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbole V signifie "FIN". Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour §tre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 G CxABRIEL CON HOY. ^ inbd. MY BEET HAETE I- -►♦♦♦ •*- TORONTO : B E L F O R D B R O T H K R S. 1876. 134 OONTKNTS. CITAK. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIM. IX. X. XI. XFl. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. TAGK vvnuorT (j WIIHIN I 6 (iABKIKI 26 NAIIKK SHOWS Till M IHK WAV 30 01 r ov iiiK woohs iNrc)»rnK siiakow 34 KOUTFRINTS 39 IN WHICH IHK FOOI'PRIN'IS HKGIN H» IMH 4J IHK KOOII'KINIS (;Ri)\V KAINIKK 45 IN WHICH THK KOori'KlNTS AKK I.OSI I<>K KVKK.. 48 ONK HORSK (ULCH 53 MADAMK DKVARGES 63 MRS. MAKKLE 71 IN WHICH THK ARTKUL GABRIKL IS I>!S( OV KR !• I) . ... 82 siMPi.icii V irrsus sac;achv 89 AN 01. I'lONKKR ())• \\() ()() \ ( lOUO OK WriNKSSKS loS IHK (HAR.MINC; MRS. SKPULVIDA I | ,j KAI'HKR KKIIPK I 20 IN WHICH IHK DUNNA MARIA MAKISAN IMlRKsslC'N I 2() THE LADY OK C.RIKK 1 35 A KKAK (>l T OK IHE PAST 14^ VI CONTENTS. CHAI'. xxri. \ X 1 1 1 . XXIV. XXV. XXVI. XXVII. WVIII. XXIX. XXX. XXXI XXXII. xxxm. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVll. XXXVIII. XXXIX. XI.. XI. I. XT,IT. XI 111. XIJV. rA(;K rni i,ri I .> o\- ihf, Bi.F.ssF.n trinity 152 MK. AND MRS. f ONKOV AT HOMK 1 5K IN WHICH 'IHK IRFASIRK IS FOI M ) AND lO.ST.. 269 MK. Dl.'MI'HN MKI IS AN (M.D FRIKND ! 80 MR. JACK HAMIINTAKFSA HOIIDAV. ..^ I X6 VK lOR MAKFS A DISCOVFKV 1 94 AN FXI'KRT 202 IN WHICH GARRIKI. KF(()(.NIZFS THK PROPFRIIIS. 2 11 IKANSIKNT Gl'F-SIS AT' THE (IRAND CONKOV 223 IN WHICH MK. Dr.MPHY TAKFS A HOI IDAV 230 MK. DI'MI'llV HAS NI.WS OF A DOMFSTIC ( IIAKAC" T FK 242 MRS. rONROV HAS AN I'NFXPF.CTF.D VISITOR 25 I OAIIKMI. DISCARDS HIS HOMF AND WFAI.TH 25S SSFD UNDKR THK PINK AND WHAT' kINKD THKRE 263 in's rfckfatton ( ont intkI) 272 in t \kfs a hand 279 hv takfs poinsftt into his confi- E 289 IN IS OFF WITH AN OLD I.OVK 298 E VOICFS 303 HY IS PFKPI.FXFD h\ A MOV FM FN I IN REAL ESTAT E 3 I O HOTH JUSTICE AND TIIF HFAVFNS FAI.I.. 32I IS SFRVAKK FIDKM 33 1 IN WHICH HKCTOR ARISKS FRO.M THE DITCH 340 WHAT RF MK. HA MR. HA MR. PI'! DF MR. HA THE TH MR. r»u IN WHK IN TFNI CONTENTS. \ll CHAP. PACK, XI.V. IN THF. TRACK OF A STORM 348 XLVI, COI-. SIARBOI TLF. ACCKI'TS AN APOIOC.Y 360 XLVll. MR. HOINSKTT. OF OOl'NSF.I. 370 XLVIII. WMAI AH FK DOF.S NOI' KNOW jS I XLIX. IME PK.Ol'DK V. JOHN DOT a/ilis CABRIII lONKoV, AND JANK. DOK JULIK CONROY 3S5 L. IN RKBUTTAL 382 LI. A FAMILY GRF.KTING 401 LII. IN WHICH THK FOOTPRINTS RKTURN 406 LIII. IN WHK H MR. HAMLIN PASSES 409 LIV. IN THK COLD CABIN ACAIN 41S LV. THF. RKIURN OF A KOOIPRINT . 4.'! LVl. KkAti.MKNT OF A LETIKR FROM Ol. V.MIMA CONROV TO GRACE POINSEIT 423 Snow miles, lo nivincs . white sh likeness and ( on with in)r( dulating horizon. the 15th It had powder, snowing out of pii ping in U broken h choked w permeate cushione( all sound awoke no forest. 'J brush ; t\ way witlu plete ! Nor CO GABRTRL CONEOY. CHAI'I'KR I. svmux r. Snow. Everywhere. As far ns the eye could reach — fifty miles, looking southward from the highest white peak. Filling ravines and gul< hes, and dropping from the walls of canons in white shroud like drifts, fashioning the dividing ridge into the likeness of a monstrous grave, hitling the bases of giant pines, and ( ()mi)letely lovering young trees and larches, rimming with porcelain the bowl like edges of still, rold lakes, and un dulating in motionless white billows to the edge of the d stant horizon. Snow lying everywhere over tlu; California Sierras on the 15th day of Manh, 1848, and still falling. It had been snowing for ten days ; snowing in finely granulated l)owder, in damj), spongy Hakes, ^ in thin, featherly plumes; snowing from a leaden sky steadily, snowing fiercely, shaken out of purple-black clouds in white flocculent masses, or drop- ping in long level lines like white lances from the tumbled and broken heavens. lUit always silently I I'he woods were so t hoked with it, the branches were so laden with it, it had so l)ermeated, filled and pcjssessed earth antl sky ; it had so cushioned and muffled the ringing rocks and echoing hills that all sound was deadened. The strongest gust, the fiercest blast awoke no sigh or com[)laint from the snow-packed, rigid files of forest. There was no cracking of bough nor c rac kle c)f under- brush ; the overladen branc hes of pine and fir yielded and gave way without a sound. The silenc e was vast, measureless, com plete ! Nor could it be said that any outward sign of life or motion B 10 «. M'.KII I < MNKitN < lianj^cd the fixfd oiitliju's ol ilii> >lii» ken hiiidscapc. Abow tluTc was no play of" Ii;,'lit and shadow, only the occasional deepening of storm or ni^ht. lulow, no l)ird winged its (light iKToss the white e\|)anse, no l)ea,«.t haunted the ((.ntines of the black woods; wiiilever of brute nature nught have once in habited these solitudes had long sin< e tlown to the low lands. There was no tra< k or inijtnnt ; whatever foot might have left its mark upon this waste iiu h su(< reeling snow tall obliter- ated all trace or record, I'very morning the solitude was virgin and unbroken ; a million tiny feel had stej)i>ed into the track and filled it up. And yi-t. in the (enter of this desolation, in the very slronglujld of this grim foitress, there was the mark of human toil. A few trees has been felled at the entrance of the canon, and the freshly <:ut chi|)s wgre l)Ul lightly <-oveie(l with snow. They served i)erhaps to indit ate another tree, '* bl.a/etl "' with an axe, and bearing a rudely shaped wooden effigy of a human hand, pointing to the (anon. Bi;low the hand was a s»|uare strip of canvas, securely nailed against the bark, and bearing the follow- ing inscription : " NOriCK. Captain Con Roy's party of einij^rants are lost in the snow, and camped uu this caiioii. Out of provision ami starvinLj ! Left St. Jo, October Sili, 1S47. Left Salt Lake, January l>t. 1S4S. Arrived here, March I>t, 1S4S. Lost half our stock on the IMatte. Abandoned our waj^oiis, Fel)ruary i^th. H i:i.r< Our names are : JoKL McCokMIt K, JaNK MKACKKTr, ViVrKK Di'MIMIV, CaURII I, CoNKOY Vwx. I)r.VAk(;Ks, J<^iin Wai.kkr, CiKACK CoNkoV, Hf'.NKV MAkCIl, Ul-VMl'IA CoNkoV,. I'HII.Il' Aslll.KY, MAkV DUMIMIV. (Then in smaller letters, in pencil) : Mamik died, November 8th, Sweetwater. MiNNlKdiefl, l)ectinber 1st, l-'.ihu ( iinon. |ank died, January 2nd, Sail Lake. Jamks HkviKKi r. !(i>t btbruary 3rd. HELF !' Wl I Ml >l I. 11 The lanminuv (if sufforinj^ is not ;i|.t lntv«' tliis artual rriord. So I let it stand, even as it stood ilii>, 15th (!ay of Man h. 1.S4S. half hidden hy a thin film of dain|> snow, the snow-whitened hand stiffened and pointinj; rigidl\ to tjie fateful ( anon like the finger of Heath. At nof)n there was a lull in the storm and a slij^dit briuhten inn of the sky toward the east. i'he grim outlines of the dis tant hills returntnl, and the starved white tiank of the mountain began to glisten. Across its gaunt hollow some l)la( k oi)je(t was moving. Moving slowly and laboriously - moving with such an uncertain mode of progression that at first it was tlifti- cult to detec t whetlur it wa.s brute or human sometimi-s on all fours, sometimes erect, again hurrying forward like a drunken man. but always with a certain definiteue^s of j)uri)o.se, toward the canon. As it approached neater you saw that it was a man. A hag gard man. ragged and envelojied m a tattered buffaUf robe, but still a man, and a determined one. A young man despite his bent figure and wasted limbs- a young man despite the pre mature furrows that ( are and anxiety had set upon his brow and in the corners of his rigid mouth- a young man not- withstanding the exjjression of savage misanthropy with which suffering and famine had overlaid the liank impulsiveness of youth. When he reached the tree at the entran( e of the canon, he brushed the film of snow from the < anvas placard, and then leaned for a few moments e.xhaustedly against its trunk. There was something in the abanoint a thing < urling cloud 12 CA 15k I K.I, CdNKON ^m ot smoke was visible lluit sccnicd lo ri.-.c Irom some cri^vic e in the snow. As he came nearer, the impression ol recent foot l)rints began to show ; there was some displacement of the snow nroiind a low mound from which the smoke now plainly issued. Mere he stopped, or rather lay down, before an open- ing or < avcrn in the snow, and uttered a feeble shout. It was responded to .still more feebly. Presently a face appeared above the opening, and a ragged figure like his own, then an other, aud tlien another, until eight human creatures, men and women, surrounded him in the snow, squatting like animals, and like animals lost to all sense of decency and shame. 7'he)- were so haggard, so faded, so forlorn, so wan, — so piteous in their human aspect, or rather all that was left of a human asijcct, — that they might have been we))t over as they sat there; they were so brutal, so imbecile, unreasoning and grotesque in these newer animal attributes, that they might have provoked a smile. They were originally country people, mainly of that social clasi: "vhose self-respect is apt to be de- pendent rather on their circumstances, position and surround- ings, than upon any individual moral j)o\ver or intellectual force. They had lost the sense of shame in tlie sense of equal- ity of suffering ; there was nothing within them to take the place of the material enjoyments they were losing. They were childish without the ambition or en.ulation of childhood ; they were meri and women without the dignity or simplicity of man and womanhood. All that had raised them above the level of the brute was lost in the snow. Even the characteristics of sex were gone ; an old woman of sixty (piarrelled, fought, and swore with the harsh utterance and ungainly gestures of a man ; a young man of scorbutic temperament wej)t, sighed, and faint- ed with the hysteria of a woman. So i)rofound was the degra- dation that the stranger who had thus evoked them from the earth, even in his very rags and sadness, seemed of another race. They were all intellectually weak and helj^less, but one, a woman, api)eared to have comj)letely lost her mind. She car- ried a small blanket wraj)i»ed up to re|)resent a child — the tangible memory of one that had starved to death in her arms a few davs before — and rocked it from side to side as ihe sat, ^ WITHOUT. 13 with a faith thnt was piteous. lUit cvon more piteous wns the tart that none of her comiKinions took the least notice, either by sympathy or complaint, ot" her aberration. When a few moments later she called upon them to be(|uiet. for that "baby"' was asleep, they glared at her indifferently and went on. A red-haired man, who was chewing a piece of buffnlo hide, cast a single murderous glance at her, but the next moment seemed to have forgotten her presence in his more absorbing occupa- tion. The stranger i)aused a moment rather to regain his breath than to wait for their more orderly and undivided attention. Then he uttered the single word : "Nothing!" " Nothing." They all echoed the word, simultaneouslv, but with different inflection and signifu ance- one fiercely, another gloomily, another stupidly, another mechanically. 'I'he woman with the blanket baby explained to it, "he says 'nothing,'" and laughed. " No — nothing," repeated the speaker. '* Yesterday's snow blocked up the old trail again. The beacon on the summit's burnt out. I left a notice at the Divide. Do that again, Dumphy, and I'll knock the top of your d d hca.; off." Dumi)hy, the red-haired man, had rudely shoved and stricken the woman with the baby — she was his wife, and this conjugal act may have been partly habit — as she was craw ling nearer the sjieaker. She did not seem lo notice the blow or its giver — the apathy with which these people received blows or slights was more terrible than wrangling — but said, assuringly, when she had reached the side of the young man : " To-morrow, then ?'' 'I'he face of the young man softened as he mnde the snmc reply he had made tor the last eight days to the same question : " To-morrow, surely '" She crawled away still holding the eftigy of her dead baby very carefully, and retreated down the opening. " 'Pears to me you don't do much ennyway, out scouting ! 'Pears to me you ain't worth shucks!" said the hnrsh-voiced woman, glancing at the speaker. " Why don't st^me on ye take his place? W h\' do you trust vour lives and the lives of women I •» * *• 't\: 14 c.xnRTFr roNT-ioN. lo that thar Ashley?" she < oiuimicd, with her voiic raised lt> a strident hark. The hysterical young man, Henry Conroy, who sat next to her, turned a wild, scared thee u|)()n her, and then, as if fearful of being dragged into the conversation, disa])peared hastily after Mrs. Dumphy, Ashley shrugged his shoulders and, re])lying to the group, rather than any individual speaker, said curtly : "There's l)ut one chance — etjual for allojjen to all. You know what it is. To stay here is death ; to go, cannot be worse than that." He rose and walked slowly away up the canon a few rods to where another mound was visible, and disai)peared from their view. When he had gone, a querulous chatter went around the Mjuatting circle. "(lone to see the old Doctor and the gal. " We're no ac- count." " Thar's two too many in this yer party.** ** Yes — the crazy Doctor and Ashley." " They're both interlo[)ers, any way." " Jonahs." " Said no good could come of it, ever since we picked him up." " lUit the Cap'n invited the ol' Doctor, and took all his stock at Sweetwater, and Ashley put in his provisions with the rest." The speaker was McCormif k. Somewhere in the feeble depths of his consciousness there was still a lingering sense of justice. He was hungry, but not unreasonable. Besides, he remembered with a tender regret the excellent quality of pro- vision that Ashley had furnished. " What's that got to do with it?" screamed Mrs. Rrackett. " He brought the bad luck with hmi. Ain't mv husl)and dead, and isn't tiiat skunk- an entire stranger -stiil livm'?" The voice was mas( uline, but the logic was feminine. In cases of great prostration with mental debility, in the hopeless vacuity that precedes death by inanition or starvation, it is some- times very effective. Tiiey all assented to it, and by a singular intellectual harmony the expression of each was the same. It was sim])ly •' G d d — n him !" wirnoi'T. 15 re no ac- " What are you i^oin' to do ?" " If 1 was a man, I'd kncnv !" "Knife him !" " Kill him, and " The remainder of this sentence was lost to the others in a ( onfidential whisi)e'* between Mrs. Ihac kett and Diimjjhy. After this confidence they sat and wagged their heids together like two unmat( hed hut hideous Chinese idols. " Look at his strength ! and he not a workin' man like us," said I)umi)hy. " Don't tell me he don't get suthin reg'lar." "Suthin what ?" "Suthin TO KA'P!" But it is nnpossible to convey even by capitals the intense C(ni>hasis put upon this verb. It was followed by a horrible \ ause. " Let's go anil see." " And kill him," suggested the gentle Mrs. Brackctt. They all rose with a common interest almost like enthusiasm. Tiul after they had tottered a few stei)s, they fell. Yet even then there was not enough self-respect left among them to feel any sense of shame or mortification in their baftled design. They Ktoi)ped, all except T)umj)hy. '* Wot's that dream you was talkin' 'bout jess now?' said Mr. VIcC'ormick, sitting down and abandoning the enterprise with 'he most shameless indifference. " 'Bout the dinner at St. Jo?" asked the ])ers(m addressed — a gentleman whose faculty of alimentary imagination had been at once the bliss and torment of his present social circle. " Yes." They all gathered eagerly .1 round Mr MiC'ormiek ; even Mr. l)um})hy, who was still moving away, stoi)ped. "Well," said Mr. March, "it began with beefsteak and injins — beefsteak, you know, juicy and cut very thick, and jess sijuashy with gravy and injins." There was a very j)erceptible watering of the mouth in the l)arty, and Mr. Mart h, witli the genius of a true narrator, under the plausible disguise of having .'()rg()tten his story, repeated the last sentence — "jess squashy with gravy and injins. And taters — baked." 16 r.APRIFI rONROV, "You said f»-'cd l)erore I and drijipinu; witli fat!"- inter- posed Mrs. Brackett, hastily. " For them as hkes fried -but l>nkcd goes fiirder — skins and all — and sassage and coffee and- -flapjacks !" At this magical word they laughed, not mirthfully perhaps, but eagerly and expc( tantlv, and said, " Go on !" "And flapjacks!" "You said that afore" — said Mrs. Brackett with a burst of passion. " (io on, d n you !" The giver of this Barmacide feast, saw his dangerous position, and looked around for Dum])hy. But he had disappeared. CHAPTER IL WnHIN. The but into which Asliley descended was, like a Green landers " iglook," below the surfiice of the snow. Accident rather than design had given it this Arctic resemblance. As snow upon snow had blocked up its entrance, and reared its white ladders against its walls, and as the strength of its ex- hausted inmates slowly declined, communication with the out- ward world was kept up only by a single narrow passage. Excluded from the air, it was close and stifling, but it had a warmth that perhaps the thin blood of its occupants craved more than light or ventilation. A smoldering fire in a wooden chimney threw a faint flicker on the walls. By its light, lying ui)on the floor, were discerni- ble four figures—a young woman and a ( hild of three or four years wra])ped in a single blanket, near the fire ; nearer the door two men separately enwrai)ped lay apart. They might have been dead, so deep and motionless were their slumbers. Perhaps some fear of this filled the mind of Ashley as he entered, for after a moment's hesitation, without saying a word, he passed (juickly to the side of tiie young woman, and, kneel- \VH FUN. n inc; beside her, ])la( cd his hand upon her fnrc. Slight as was the touch it awakened her. I know not what sul)tle magnetism was in that conta( t, but she cauglu the hands in her own, sat u\\ and before her eyes were scarcely opened, uttered the single word : " Philip!" "Grace- hush !" He took her hand, kissed it, and pointed warningly toward the other sleepers. "Speak low. 1 have much to say to you." The young girl seemed to be content to devour the speaker with her eyes. " Vou have come back," she whispered, with a faint smile, and a look that showed t o j)jainly the predominance of that fact above all others in her mind. " I dreamed of you— Philip." " Dear Grace," he kissed her hand again. " Listen to me, darling ! I have come back — but only with the old story — no signs of succor, no indications of help from without ! My belief is, Grace," he added, in a voice so low as to be audible only to the quick ear to which it was addressed, " that we have blundered far south of the usual travelled trail. Nothing but a miracle or a misfortune like our own would bring another train this way. We are alone and helpless— in an unknown region that even the savage and brute have abandoned. The only aid we can calculate upon is from within — from ourselves. What that aid amounts to," he continued, turning a cynical eye toward the sleepers, ''you know as well as I." She ])ressed his hand, a|)ologetically, as if accepting the reproach herself, but did not s|)eak. "As a party we have no strength — no dis( ij)line," he went on. " Since your father died we have had no leader — I know what you would say Grace, dear," he continued, answering the mute i)rotest of the girl's hand, "but even if it were true — if / were capable of leading them, they would not take my coun.sels. Perha])s it is as well. If we kept together, the greatest peril of our situation wcnild be ever present — the peril from ourseh'es !'' Ho looked intently at her as he sj)oke, but she evidently did not take his meaning. '. % IS '•^I'RIKl. roNRov. Ill m proportion as it be JmtfJ ud ,f 'T ''k"'^ ^'^ d<--H " ^7" ita, ,|,at „,„„,:,;^ n^h'eft""!'" ''"«'<•''• ^^e might have a face with .,o mu,h of mini "'" "■'''' Pt^ering in the d T.^ n-s that she needed mjie'f"'?"" '" "'' horrible wistfu' n somhne.^^thefa,:e of I w" v f' T' ^'^^ ■" ''^^■'^ familiar ' ante the swifter insiin,., „e r ' '■ " ^'■'-'" «'»h her danrr^r ^^p.nd.. vVhe^.;---^era^^.^£ f'-'unv you whatte Z^^'Zul" '"f'^" y""> ^---. but onlv loll to avoid. Thpr« ill *^""'-^what we have stil T 7 " ij,.4 J tc. I say no _Butmy,,,e,,rand brother?" w^ last ^un?'"' ""^^'^'^-'y -n-ns t;ir?'''''T',;-'^ '""•««» .,,, '*"""" »e' can send rehef- u.h.jo . '"<-'ir streneth j «empt to reach it with us. T ' ' h ""^r "'<""'' «'nk in fhe be..r dear (-race, to leave you J^rr' '^'' """'' ''"' ^ cannot -?el^^;:t----;;;^s^si.p, eave it alone !" Philip listlessly turned away. " Come here," said the old man. Philip aj)i)r()ached. '* You need say nothing," said the old man after a p^nse, in which he examined Phili|)'s face keenly. " I read your news Ml your face — the old story — I know it by heart." "Well?" said Philip. " Well ! ' said the old man, stolidly. Philip again turned away. " You buried the case and ])ai)ers?" asked the old inan. " Yes." '' Through the snow — in the earth ?" " Yes." " Securely ?" " Securely." " How did you indicate it ?" " By a cairn of stones." " And the notices — in (German and French?" •' I nailed them up wherever I could, near the old trail." "Good." The cynical look on Philip's face deepened as he once nior turned away. But before he reached the door he paused, aiK drawing from his breast a faded flower, with a few limp leaves handed it to the old man. " I found a duplicate of the plant you were looking for." The old man half rose on his elbow, breathless with excite- ment as he clutched and eagerly examined the plant. f^:.- i' 4 20 OAltKIH CONKoV. ir •* It is tlio same," he said, with a sigh of relief, "and yet you said there was no news !" "May I ask what it means?" said Phili)), with a sh'ght smile. "It moans that I am ri^'ht, and Linnaeus, Darwin, and Ksrhcnholtz are wrong. It means a discovery. It means that this which you (all an Alpine flower is not one, but a new species." " An important fact to starving men," said Philip, bitterly. " It means more," continued the old man, without heeding Phi!ij)'s tone. " It means that tiiis flower is not developed in peri)etual snow. It means that it is first germinated in a warm soil and under a kindly sun. It means that if you had not l)lucked it, it would have fulfilled its destiny under those condi- tions. It means that in two months grass will l)e springing where you found it — even where we now lie. We are below the limit of perpetual snow." " In two months !" said the young girl, eagerly, clasping her h-'.nds. " In two months," said the young man, bitterly. " In two months we shall be far from here, or dead." "Probably!" said the old man coolly, "but if you have ful- filled my injunctions in regard to my papers and the collection, they will in good time be discovered and saved." Ashley turned away with an impatient gesture, and the old man's head again sank exhaustedly ui)on his arm. Under the pretext of caressmg the child, Ashley crossed over to (irace, uttered a few hurried and almost inaudible words, and disap- peared through the door. When he had gone, the old man raised his head again and called feebly : "Grace!" "Dr. Devarges !" " Come here !" She rose and crossed over to his side. "Why did he stir the Are, (irace?" said Devarges, with a suspicious glance. " I don't know." " Vou tell him everything — did you tell him that?" " I did not. sir.' T)ev;l the girl "fal The disclosJ incand^ sticks ient sn^ of the "(iri "Sii '' Vo Grad " l)i that yo| course. Neitl ing, no woman From I " Wl to who And s( "H "N friend- she sa "V know "h he ha — or know man. knov ges. to u wn iii\. 21 < I , Dcvargcs looked as if he would read the inmost thouglUs of the girl, and tlien, as if re-assiireil, said : "Take it from the fire, and let it cool in the snow." The youni; girl raked away the embers of the dying fire, and disi losed what seemed to be a stone of the size of a hen's egg. incandescent and glowing. With the aid of t -vo half-burnt sticks she managed to extract it, and deposited it in a conven ient snow-drift near the door, and tiicn returned to the sidi- of the old man. "Crace!" "Sir!" *' Vou are going away !" (Irace did not speak. *' 1 )on't deny it. 1 overheard you. Perhaps it is the best that you can do. IJut whether it is or not you will do it ot course. (Irace, what do you know ot that man ?" Neither th-j contact of daily familiarity, the ecjuality of suffer ing, nor the i)resence of ajjproac hing death, could subdue the woman's nature in Orace. She instantly raised her shield. From behind it she began to fence leebly with the dying man. " Why, what we all know of him, sir, — a true triend ; a man to whose courage, intellect, and endurance we owe so much. And so unselfish, sir !" " Humph '.—what else ?" "Nothing — except that he has always, been yoL ievoted friend — and I thought you were his. Vou brought hii.i to us," she said, a little viciously. " Ves — I picked him up at Sweetwater. Hut what do you know of his history ? What has he t(»ld vou ?" " He ran away from a wic ked stei)-father and relations whom he hated. He came out west to live alone among the Indians — or to seek his fortune in Oregon. He is very |)roud — you know, sir. He is as unlike us as you are, sir, — he is a gentle- man. He is educated." " Yes, I believe that's what they call it here, and he doesn't know the petals of a flower from the stamens," muttered Devar- ges. "Well! After you run away with him does he projtose to marry you?" For an instant a taint flush deepened the wan cheek of the ;• r *I2 (IM'.K'III r(»M^(»\'. !i r r: I*' ^irl. and she lost lit r ^iiard. Iliil llu' nc.M moment she re rovorcd it. "Oh, sir," said this arch hypocrite, sweetly, *' how can you jest so < riielly at such h moment? I'he lite of my dear brother and sister, the lives of the poor women in N^onder hut, depend Uj>on our ^oin^'- H^' '^'"•^^ ' ^^^ t^^'-' ^"I'y '•"'-''■' ^*^^^ ^^'^^^ '^^'^V'^' strength enough to make the trial. 1 can assist him, for, although strong, I recpiire less to suppoit my strength than he. Something lells me we shall be successful ; we shall return soon with helj). Oh, sir, it is no time for trilling now; our lives— even your own is at stake I" " Mv own life," said the old man im])assivelv, " is alreadv spent. IJefore you return, if you return at all, 1 shall be be yond y(nir help." A spasm of pain appeared to pass over his face. He lay still for a moment as if to concentrate his strength for a further effort. Hut when he again spoke, his voice was much lower, and he seemed to articulate with ditficultv. " Grace, ' he said at last, " come, nearer, girl, — I have some- thing to tell you." Grace hesitated. Within the last few moments a shy, nerv- ous dread of the man which she could not account for had taken {possession of her. She looked toward her sleeping brother. *' He will not wajcen," said Devarges following the direction of her eyes. " The anodyne still holds its effect. Bring me what you took from the fire." Grace brought the stone — a ckull bluish-gray slag. The old man took it, examined it, and then said to (irace : " Rub it briskly on your blanket." Grace did so. After a few mements it began to exhibit a faint white luster on its polished surface. "It looks like silver," said Grace, doubtfully. " It is silver !" replied Devarges. Grace jmt it down cjuickly and moved slightly away. " Take it," said the old man, — " it is yours. A year ago I found it in a ledge of the mountain range far west of this. I know where it lies in bulk -a fortune, (irace, do you hear? — hidden in the bluish stone you put in the lire for me last ni!';ht. U I i 1 1 1 N . 23 I I (an tell you where and hdw to find it. I < an ^ive you the title to it the rig.ht of distoveiv Take it il is Nours." *' No, no, ' said the girl hurriedly, keep it yourselt. Vou will live to enjoy it." " Never, (Irace ! even were I to live 1 should not make use ot it. 1 have in my life had more than my share of it, and il brought me no hajjpiness. it has no value to me- the rankest weed that grows above it is worth more in my eyes, 'lake il. To the world it me^ns everything,- wealth and position. Take it. It will make you as i>rou(l and independent as your lover -it will make you always grat ious in his eyes ; il will be a setting to your beauty, it will be a pedestal to your virtue. I ake it — it is yours." " Hut you have relatives —friends," said the girl, drawing away from the shining stone with a half suiierstitious awe. •' There are others whose < laims — " "None greater than yours," interrupted the old man, with the nervous haste of failing breath. "Call it a reward if you choose. Look ui)()n it as a bribe to keep your lover to the ful- fillment of his promise to preserve my manuscrijUs and collection. Think, if you like, that it is an act of retribution- that once in my life 1 might have known a young girl whose future would have been blest by such a gift. Think — think — what you like -but take it ! " His voice had sunk to a whisper. A grayish pallor had overspread his face and his breath came with difliculty. (irace would have called her brother, but with a n\otion of his hand Devarges restrained her. With a desperate effort he raised himself upon his elbow, and drawing an envelope from his pocket, put it in her hand. "It contains — ma)) — descri|)tion of mine and locality — yours — say you will take it — Grace, cpiick, say — " His head had again sunk to the floor. She stoojjed lo raise it. As she did so a slight shadow darkened the opening by the door. She raised her eyes quickly and saw the face of Dumphy ! She did not shrink this time ; but, with a sudden instinct, she turned lo Devarges, and said : "I will!" f ■' ■ . $;>;' ;? ( ■ 24 OAl'.kll f, fONKDV. She raised her eyes again detiantly, I nil tlie face had disap peared. "Tlmnk you," said the old man. His lip^. moved aj^ain bin witlioiit a sound. A strange Idm h.id be.^un to gather in his eyes. " Dr. Devarges." whispered (iracc. He did not sj)eak. *' lie is tlying," tliought the young girl as a new and sudden tear overcame her. Slie rose (juic kly and crossed Iiurriediy to her brother and shook liiui. A pro longed inspiration, like a moan, was the only the only response. For a moment siie glanced wildly around the room and then ran to the door. '' I'hilip : " There was no response. She climbed up through the tunnel like opening. It was already (piite dark and a tew leet beyond the hut nothing was distinguishable. She cast a rapid back ward glance, and then, with a sudden desperation, darted for ward into the darkness. At the same moment two figures raised themselves from behind the shadow of the mound and slipped down the tunnel into the hut — Mrs. iJrackctt and Mr. Dumphy. They might have been the meanest predatory animals- so stealthy, so eager, so timorous, so c Touching, and yet so agile were their motions. They ran, sometimes upright and some- times on all fours, hither and thither. They fell over each other in their eagerness, and struck and spat savagely at each other in the hall darkness. They peered into ctorners, they rooted in the d) ing embers and among the ashes, tliey groped among the skins and blankets, they smelt and sniffed at every article. They paused at last apparently unsuccessful, and glared at each other. "They must have eaten it — d n 'em!" said Mrs. Jirackett in a hoarse whisi)er. " It didn't look like suthin' to eat," said Dumphy. " You saw 'em take it from the fue ? " " Ves : '• " And rub it ? " " Ves " Fool t " Don't you see — * «• WhI " It yA DumJ " Wh ■ he said. " Th( with an Dum|| "He eagerly. ♦' Wht ** I di « Foo told yer, (lisappoi git hold " He's In an crouchir dared n^ The ( the muti With over hir "Yes " Tell him whi "Yes "He " Yef "At of the 1 (aim,'* 'Ye "Wl "Ye " Tl- "Ye "Tl WIIKIN. 2ft " It was a l>nkc(l potato." I)iim|)hy sat (lumhtoiiiKUd. "Why should they rub it it likes o(T tho rrarklin' skin'" he said. " They've got such fine stoniat hs ! " answered Mrs. Hrackett with an oath. I)iini|)hy was still a^'linst with thr iiH|)orlnn • i:': 26 GAPRILL CON ROY. "Yes!" "Starving beasts !" "Yes, deary!" The fire of his wandering eyes went out suddenly like a candle. His jaw dropi)e(l. He was dead. And over him the man and woman crouched in fearful joy. -looking at cat h other with the first smile that had been ui)on their lips bincc they had entered the fateful cauon. CHAPTER III. GAHRIKI.. It was found the next morning, that the party was diminished by five. Philip Ashley and Grace Conroy, i*eter Dum)>hy and Mrs. Brackett were missing; i)r. I^iul Devcrages was dead. The death of the old man caused but little - \( itement and no sorrow ; the absconding of the others was attributed to some information which they had selfishly withheld from the remaining ones, and produced a spasm of impotant rage. In five minutes their fury knew no bounds. The lives and pro4)erty of the fugitives were instantly declared forfeit. Stei)s were taken — about twenty, I think — in the direction of their flight, but finally abandoned. Only one person knew that Philip and Grace had gone to- gether — Gabriel Conroy. On awakening early that morning he had found pinned to his blanket, a paper with these words in pencil : "God bless dear brother and sister, and keep them until Philip and I come back with helj)." With it were a few scraps of provisions, evidently saved by Grace from her scant rations, and left as a |)arLing gift. These Gabriel instantly turned into the common slock. Then he began to comfort the child. Added to his natural hopefulness he had sympathetic instinct with the pains and pen- r.ABRIEL. 27 I . .lilies of childliiim]. not so imu h a (jualitv of his ititrllcct an ot his Jiaturc. He liad all the i)hysiral adaptabilities of a nurse — a large, tender toiu h. a low persuasive voice, pliant vet un- hesitating limbs, and broad well-cushioned surfaces. During the weary journey women had instinctively intrusted b.ibies to his charge, most of the dead had died in his arms, all forms and conditions of helplessness had availed themselves of his easy capacity. No oiie thought of thanking him. I do not think he ever expected it ; he always ap[)eared moially irre- sponsible and (]uite un< onscious of his own importanc e, and, as is frequent in such cases, there was a tendency to accept his services at his own valuation. Nay more ; there was a slight consciousness of su|)eriority in those who thus gave him an opi)ortunity of exhibiting his s[)ecial faculty. "Oily," he said, after an airy preliminary tos , "would ye like to have an nice doll\ ?" Oily opened her wide hungry eyes in hopeful anticipation and nodded assent. "A nice dolly with a real mamma," he continued, "who plavs with it like a true baby. Would ye like to help her play with it?" The idea of a joint [)artnership of this kind evidently pleased Oily l)y its novelty. "Well then, brother Gabe will get you one. Hut Gracey will have to go away so the doll's mamma kin come." Oily at first resented this, but eventually succumbed to novelty, after the fashion of her sex, starving or otherwise. Yet ^Ile prudently asked : " Is it ever hungry ? " ' ' "It is never hungrv," rejjlied Gabriel, confidentlv. "Oh ! " said Oily with an air of relief. Then Gabriel, the cunning, sought Mrs. Dumphy, the mentally alienated. " Vou are jest killin' of yourself with the tendin' o' that child, ■■ he said, after bestowing a < aress on the blanket and ^lightly pinching an imaginary cheek of the eftigy. " It would be liklier and stronger fur a playmate. Good gracious I how thin ii is ! ettin'. A change will do it good ; fetch it to Ollv, %f 28 GAl'-RIFr, COXROV. ^it and let her liel]) noii tend it until until- -to-monciw.'' To morrow was the extreme liiuit of Mrs. I)unii)hy's future. So Mrs. ])uuii)hy and her effigy were installed in Grace's place, and Oily was made hai)i)y. ^^ ^'"^'^ nature or a more active imagination tlian (iahriel's would have revolted ".L this montrous combination ; but (iabriel only saw that they ai)i)earcd contented, and the first i)ressing difficulty of drace's absence was overcome. So alternate] v the? took care of the effigy, the child simulating the cares of the future and losing the present in them, the mother living in the memories of the past. Perha])s it might have been pathetic to have seen Oily and Mrs. l)umi)hy both saving the infinitesimal remnants ot their provisions for the doll, but the only spectator was one of the actors, Gabriel, who lent himself to the deception; and pathos to be effective must be viewed from the outside. At noon that day the hysterical young man, Gabriel's cousin^ died. Gabriel went over to the other hut and endeavored to cheer the survivors. He succeeded in infecting them so far with his hopefulness as to loosen the tongue and imagination of the story-teller, but at four o'clock the body had not yet been buried. It was evening, and the three were sittting over the embers, when a singular change came over Mrs. Dumphy. The effigy suddenly slipped from her hands, and, looking up, Gabriel perceived that her arms had dropped to her side, and that her eyes were fixed on vacancy. He spoke to her, but she made no sign nor response of any kind. He touched her, and found her limbs rigid and motionless. Oily began to cry. The sound seemed to agitate Mrs, Dumphy. Without moving a limb, she said, in a changed unnatural voice : " Hark ! " Oily choked her sobfi at a sign from ( "labriel. " They're coming I " said Mrs. Dumi)hy. "Which?" said (labriel. " The relief party."' " Where ? " " Far, far away. They're jest setting out. I see 'em — a dozen men with jjack horses and provisions. The leader is an s cousin. GMiRFKL. 'I'licv'ic ( oniinLi -l)Ul tar, After a Aiiicricin— the otlicrs arc strangers, oh, so far away 1 " Clabricl fixed his eyes upon her l)ut did not speak, tleath-hke pause, she went on : "The sun is shinini;, the l)iids are singings tlie grass is springing where they ridt; — l)ut, oh, so far — too far away ! " " Do vou know tliem ?" asked Gabriel. " No." " Do they know us ? " *' No." '*\Vhy do they come, and how do they kaow wliere we are?" asked (lahriel. " Their leader has seen us." "Where?" " In a dream." ♦ Gabriel whistled and looked at the rng baby. He was willing to recognize something abnormal, and perhaps even prophetic, in this insane woman ; but a coincident exaltation in a stranger who was not suffering from the illusions produced by starvation was beyond his credulity. Nevertheless the instincts of good humor and hoj^efulness were stronger, and he presently asked : " How will they come ?" " Up through a beautiful valley and a broad, shining river. Then they will cross a mountain until they come to another beautiful valley with steep sides, and a rushing river that runs so near us that I can almost hear it now. Don't you see it? It is just beyond the snow peak there ; a green valley, with the rain tailing upon it. Look ! it is there." She pointed directly north, toward the region of inhospitable snow. "Could you get to it?" asked the practical Gabriel. "No." * I fear I must task the iiicic<4ul»us reader's further patience by callinj^' attention to what may perhajjs prt)ve tlie most literal and thoroughly atteste*! fact of this otherwise fanciful chronicle. The condition anii situalicMi of tlk.' ill-famed "Donne;- I'arly " — then an unknown, unheralded cavalcade of emii^rants — starvini; in an unfrequented pass of tiie Sierras. was tiist made known to Captain Vount of N'apa, in a drcafn. The .Spanish records of California show that the relief party which sucjoied the survivors was prujectcd upon this spiiiliuil infiuiualion. t ' / 30 c.Ar.Riia, coxRov. "t> "Why not?" " I must wait here for my baby. She is coming .or us. She will find me here." "When?" " 'IVmoriow." It was the last time that she uttered that well-worn sentence ; for it was only a little past midnight that her baby came to her — came to her w^ith a sudden light, that might have been in- visible to (iabriel, but that it was rellectcd in her own lack- luster eyes — came to this poor half-witted creature with such dis- tinctness that she half ruse, stretched out her thin yearning arms and received it — a corpse ! Gabriel placed the effigy in her arms and folded them over it. Then he ran swiftly to the other hut. For some unexjjlained reason he did not get further than the door, WMiat he saw there he has never told, but when he groped his fainting way back to his own hut again, his face was white and bloodless, and his eyes wild and staring. Only one imi)ulse remained — to fly forever from the cursed spot. He stoi)ped only long enough to snatch up the sobl^ing and frightened Oily, and then, with a loud cry to God to help him — to help t/iem — he dashed out, and was lost in the darkness. CHAPTER IV. NATTJKE SHOWS THK.M THE WAY. It was a spur of the long grave-like ridge that lay to the north of the canon. Up its gaunt white flank two figures had been slowly crawling since noon, until at sunset they at last stood upon its outer verge outlined against the sky — Philip and Grace. For all the fatigues of the journey the want of nourishing food and the haunting shadow of the suffering she had left, the face of (irace flushed with the dying sun, was very pretty. The NATtJRK SlK)\VS THEM THK WAV OI'T. 31 I . boy's dress slie lind borrowed was ill-fitting, and made her ex- .|uisite littlo figure still more diminutive, but it could not en- tirely hide its gr^uefiil ( urves. Here in ihis rosy light the swooning fringes of her dark eyes were no longer hidden ; the perfect oval of her face, evtni the few freckles on her short upper lip were visible to Philip. Partly as a {physical support, l)artly to re-assure her, he put his arm tenderly around her waist. Then he kissed her. It is possible that this last act was purely gratuitous. Ilowbeit (irace first asked, with the characteristic prudence of her sex, the question she had already asked many days be- lore that day, '*I)o you love me, Philip?" And Philip, with the readv frankness of our sex on such occasions, had invari- ably replied, '^ I do." Nevertheless the young man was pre-occupied, anxious, and hungry. It was the fourth day since they had left the hut. On the second day they had found some j^ine cones with the nuts still intact and fresh beneath the snow, and later a squirrel's hoard. On the third day Philij) had killed the proprietor and eaten him. The same evening Philip had espied a duck wing- ing his way up the canon. IMiilip, strong in the belief that some inland lake was the immediate object of its flight, had first marked its course, and then brought it down with a long shot, 'ihen, having altered their cour.se in accordance with its suggestions, they ate their guide next morning for breakfast. Philip was also disappointed. The summit of the spur so laboriously attained only showed him the same endless succes- sion of white snow billows stretching rigidly to the horizon's edge. There was no break— no glimpse of water-course nor lake. There was nothing to indicate whence the bird had come or the i)robable j)oint it was endeavoring to reach. He was beginning to consider the feasibility of again changing their course, when an unlooked-for accident took that volition from his hands. Grace hatl ventured out to the extreme limit of the rocky cliff, and with straining eyes was trying to i)eer beyond the snow fields, when the treacherous ledge on which she was standing began to give away. In an instant Philip was at her side and had caught her hand, but at the same moment a large li'Ji (iAURIlil. C().NKUV. '• Mi !lt- W^ 'm 'i w iiff^ rock of the ledge dropped from beneath her feet, and left lier with no support but liis grasp. The sudden shock loosened also the insecure granite on >chich Philip stood. Before he could gain secure loothold it also trembled, tottered, slijiped, and then fell, carrying Philij) and (irace with it. Lu( kily this immense mass ol stone and ice got fairly away before them, and plowed down the steej) bank of the cliff, breaking off the projecting rocks and protuberances, and cutting a clean, though almost i)erpendi( ular, ])ath down the mountain side. Even in falling Philij) had presence f)f mind enough to for- bear clutching at the crumbling ledge, and so precipitating the rock tJKit might crush them. Pcforc he lost his senses he re- membered tightening his grip of (irace's arm, and drawing her face and head forward to his breast, and even in his unt onsci- ousness it seemed that he instinctively guided her into the smooth passage or "shoot" made by the plunging rock below them ; and even then he was half conscious of dashing into sudden material darkness and out again into light, and of the crashing and crackling of branches around him, and even the brushing of the stiff pine needles against his face and limbs. Then he felt himself stopped, and then, and then only, every thing whirled ccnfusedly by him, and his brain seemed to i)ar take of the motion, and then — the relief of utter blankness and oblivion. When he regained his senses, it was with a burning heat in his throat and the sensation of strangling. When he opened his eyes he saw Grace bending over iiim, pale and anxious, and chafing his hands and temples with snow. There was a spot of blood upon her round cheek. *' You are hurt, Grace!" were the first words that Philij^ gasped. '' No ! — dear, brave Philij) — but only so thankful and happy for your escaj)e." Vet, at the same moment the color faded from her cheek, and even the sun kissed line of her uj)per lij) grew bloodless, as she leaned ba(-k against a tree. But Philip did not see her. His eyes were rapidly taking in his strange surroundings. He was lying among the broken iiagments of i)ine branches and the debris of the cliff above. In his ears was the sound of hunying water, and before him, NMIKK .SHOWS HUM IIIK WAV Ol 1. • »• > > >• ) si:arce a hundred feet, a rushing river! He looked uj); the red glow of sunset was streaming through the broken limbs and shattered branches of the snow-thatched roof that he had bioken through in his descent. Here and there along the river the same light was penetrating the interstices and open- ings of this strange vault that arched above this sunless stream. He knew now whence the du( k had flown ! He knew now whv he had not seen the water-course before I He knew now where the birds and beasts had betaken themselves whv the wood and caiions were trackless 1 Here was at last the open road ! He staggered to his feet with a cry of delight. " Cirace, we are saved." Grace looked at him with eyes that i)erhaps spoke more elofiuently of joy at his recovery, than of comprehension of his delight. *' Look, Grace ! this is Nature's own road — only a lane, ])er- liaps — but a clew to our way out of this wildernes.s, As we des( end the stream it will oi)en into a broader valley." " I know it," she said simply. Philip lo(jked at her inquiringly. *' When 1 dragged you out of the way of the fulling roc ks and snow above, I had a glimj)se of the valley you speak of. i saw it from there." She pointed to a ledge of rock above the opening where the great stone that had fallen had lodged. " When you dragged me, my child ?" Grace smiled faintly. " You don't know how strong 1 am," she said, and then ])roved it by fainting dead away. Philip started to his feet and ran to her side. Then he fell for the precious flask that i.e had preserved so sacredly through all their hardships, but it was gone. Ho glanced around him ; It was lying on the snow, empt\ I I'or the first time in their weary ])ilgrimage Philip wttered a groan. At the sound Grac e oj)ened her sweet eyes. She saw her lover with the em^tty flask in his hand, and smiled faintly. '. 9 . ! 34 OAHRIF.I, rONROV. ■It /•'■ *' I poured it all down your lliroal. dear," she said. " \'ou looked so faint I thought you were dying forgive me I" " Hut I was only stunned; and you, (irace, you — " " Am better now," she said, as she strove to rise. But she uttered a weak little rry and fell back again. I'hilij) did not hear her. He was already climbing the ledge she had spoken of. When he returned his ta<:e was joyous. " I see it, (irare ; it is only a few miles away. It is still light, and we shall camp there to-night." " I am afraid— not — iiear Philip," said Grace, doubtially. " Why not?" asked IMiilip, a little im[)atic'ntly. " Because — I think -my leg is broken !'* "(;race:" But she had tainted. CIIAPTRR V. OUT Oy THE WOODS — IN lO THE SHADOW. TTappit.y Grace was wrong. Her ankle was severely sprameo, and she could not stand. Philip tore uj) his shirt, and, with bandages dipped in snow water, wrai)ped up the swollen limb. Then he knocked over a quail in the bushes and another duck, and clearing away the brush for a camping spot, built a fire, and tempted the young girl with a hot supper. The peril of starvation passed, their greatest danger was over — a few days longer of enforced rest and inactivity was the worst to be feared. The air had grown singularly milder with the last few hours. At midnight a damj) breeze stirred the pine needles above their heads, and an ominous muflled beating was heard upon the snow-packed vault. It was rain. "It is the reveille of spring !" whispered Philip. But Grace was in no mood for jwetry — even a lover's. She let her head drop upon his shoulder, and {hen said : " Vou must go on, dear, and leave me here." "CJrace!" Ol'T OF TIIF. WOODS INTO IMF, SIlAnoW. tlie lodge oyoiis. it is still tlally. spraineo, md, with len limb, ler duck, built a rhe peril few davs e feared. w hours, ^ve their pon thi' s. She I " ^'es, Philip I I can live until you come liack. I fear no [danger now. I am so much better olT than they are I" A few tears droi)ped on his hand, rhilij) winced. I*erhaps il was his conscience ; perhai)S there was something in the girl's tone, perhaps because she had once before sp(»ken in the same way, but it jarred uj)on a < crtain (jualit) in his nature which he was ])leased tocall his '* common sense." IMiilip really believed hmiselt a high-souled, thoughtless, ardent, impetuous temperament, saved only from destruction by the occasional dominance of this (piality. For a moment he did not speak. He thought how, at the risk of his own safety, he had snatched this girl from a terrible death ; he thought how he had guarded her through their perilous journey, takiig all the burdens upon himself; he thought how liappy he had made her ; how she had even admitted her lia]»|iHiess to him ; bethought of her present heli)Iessness, and how willing he was to delay the journey on her account ; he dwelt even uj)on a certain mysterious, ill-defined but blissful liiture with him to which he was taking her, and yet here, at the moment of their possible deliverance, she was fretting about two (lying pco])le, who, without miraculous interference, would be (lead before she could reach them. It was part of Philip's e(|uit- able self-examination — a fact of which he was very p oud- -that he always put himself in the position of the person with whom he differed, and imagined how he would a( t under the like circum stances. Perhaps it is hardly necessary to say that Philip always found that his conduct under those conditions would be totally different. In the present instance, putting himself in (trace's position, he felt that he would have abandoned all and every- thing for a love and future like hers. That she did w(A, was evidence of a moral deficiency or a blood taint. Logic of this kind is easy and irrefutable. It has been known to obtain even Iteyond the Sierras, and with j)eople who were not physi(^ally exliausted. After a pause he said to (Jrace, in a changed voice : '* Let us talk |)lainly for a few nKjments, Cira( e, and under- stand each other before we go forwartl or backward. It is iwa • lays since we left the hut ; were we even ( ertain of finding our wandering way back again, we could not reach there before C.M'.KIKL CONUftV. I' • 111 [.1. .'UiotluT tivf (lays lind elapsed ; l)y that tiiuc; all will he ovi-r They have cither been savcil or arc beyond the reach of help. 'I'his sounds harsh, drace, but it is no harsher than the fad Had we stayed, we would, without helping them, have onI\ shared their fate. I might have been in your brother's pla( v you in your sister's. Jl is our foituru-, not our fault, tliat we aii not dying with them. It has been willed that you and 1 should be saved. It might have been willed that we should have perished in our attempts to succor them, and that relief wlii( h came tt) t/it-m wouKl have never reached us." (Irace was no logician, and could not help thinking tliat it l*hili|) IkuI said this before, she would not have left the hiii But the mas( uline reader will I trust at once delect the irrele vance of the feminine suggestion, and observe that it did not refute Phili])'s argument. She looked at him with a half frightened air. Perhaps it was the tears that dimmed her eyes, but his few words seemed to have removed him to a great distance, and for the first time a strange sense of loneliness came over her. She longed to reach her yearning arms to him again, but with this feeling came a sense of shame that she had not felt before. Philip noticed her hesitation, and half interpreted it. 11^ lei her jxassive head fall. " Perhaps we had better wait until we are ourselves out ol danger before we talk of helping others," he said, with some- thing of his old bitterness. "This accident may keep us here some days, and we know not as yet where we are. Go to sleep, now," he said, more kindly, "and in the morning we wiil see what can be done." Grace sobbed herself to sleep ! Poor, poor Grace ! She had been looking for this opportunity of speaking about herself- about their future. This was to have been the beginning of her confidence about Dr. Devarge's secret ; she would have told him frankly all the Doctor had said, even his suspicions of Phili]' /himself. And then Philij) would have been sure to have told her his plans, and they would have gone l)ack with help, and Philip would have been a hero whom (jabriel would have instantly recognized as the proper husband for Grace, and ihev would have all been very happy. And now tliey were all dead, rn r of iiik woods imo nil siiMinvv r>7 I ,i!i(l li.ul (lu'W j»orh;ii>s < iusin:4 her, and — IMiilip I'hilij) had not kissftl licr j^ood-nii^lu, and was silling gluoinily under a tree ! The dim lighl of a leaden morning; broke through the snow vaull al)ove their heads. It was rainint; heavily, the river had risen, and was still rising. It was filled with drift and hranches, and snow and ice, the waste and wear of many a mile. ()e- r.isionally a large uprooted tree with a gaunt forked root like a mast sailed by. Suddenly Philij), who had been sitting with ins chin upon his hands, rose with a slu)Ut. Grace looked up l.mguidly. He iK)intcd to a tree that, floating by, had struck the bank where they sat, and then drifted broadside against it, where for a moment it lay motionless. " Grace," he said, with his old spirits, " Nature has taken us in hand herself. If we are to be saved, it is bv her methods. She brought us here to the water's edge, and now she sends a boat to take us off again. Come." IJefore Grace could reply, Philip had lifted her gayly in his arms, and deposited her between two upright roots of the tree. Then he ])laced beside her his rifle and provisions, and leaj)ing himself on the bow of this strange craft, shoved it off with a broken branch that he had found. For a moment it still clung to the bank, and then suddenly catching the im{)ulse of the ( urrent, darted away like a living creature. I'he river was very narrow and rapid where they had eni- l>arked, and for a few moments it took all of Philip's energy and undivided attention to keep the tree in the center of the I urrent. Grace sat silent, admiring her lover, alert, forceful, and glowing with excitement. Presently Philip called to her : " Do you see that log? We are near a settlement." .'\ freshly hewn log of pine was floating in the current beside 'liem. A ray of hope shot through (rrace's sad fancies ; if they were so near help, might not it have already reached the sufferers? But she forbore to s])eak to Philij) again upon that subject, and in his new occupation he seemed to have forgotten It was with a little thrill of joy that at last she saw him turn and balancing himself with his bough ujjon their crank craft* 38 tiAHRIEL CONKl>V. w.ilk down slowlv toward her. W'Ikm he rcaclud licr snlc lie sal down, and, taking lur hand in his lor the first linicsin»o the previous night, lie said, j^ently : "(Irace, my diild, I have sonietliinj; to tell you." draee's little heart throbbed <|ui(kly, for a moment she did not liare to lift her long lashes towards his. Without noticing; her embarrassment he went on : " In a few hours we will be no longer in the wilderness, but in the world again -in a settlement perhaps, among men and perhaps women. Strar^^^ers certainly — not the relative.s you have known, and who know you — not the people with whom we have been familiar for so many weeks and day.s— but peoi)lc who know nothing of us, or our .sufferings." (trace looked at him, but did not speak. " You understand, (irace, that, not knowing this, th^y might ])Ut their own construction ujK)n ( ur (light. 'i'o speak plainly, my child, you are a young woman, oiid I am a young fj^ man. Your beauty, dear Grace, offers an ex|)lanation of our companionship that the world will accei)t more readily than any other, and the truth to many would seem s( arc ely as natural. For this reason it must not be told. I will go Ikk k alone with relief, and leave you here in some safe hands until I return. Hut I leave you here not as Grace Conroy — you shall take my own name !" A hot flush mounted to Grace's throat and cheek, and for an instant, with i)arted lips, she hung breathless upon his next word. He continued quietly : "■ You shall be my sister- (Jrace Ashley." The blood fell from her cheek, her eyelids drom)ed, and she buried her face in her hands. Philip waited patiently for her reply. When she lifted her face again, it was (juiet and calm — there was even a slight flush of proud color in her cheek as she met his gaze, and with the faintest curl of her upper lip said : '* You are right." At the same moment there was a sudden bi-^aking ot light md warmth and sunshine over their heads; the tree swiftlv swung roung a sharp curve in the river, and then drifted slowlv into a broad, overflowed valley, sparkling with the emerald ot FOOl TRINIS. a ;:intly sloping; liill ;^i, and il.i//liu^ with flu* ^l<»w of the noo!i (l.iv sun. And 1> voiid. tVdin a < IiisttT ol willows sc.ir«cl) .1 Milk' .iw.iy, the sudIvc ot .1 i.il);ii ( luiiincv ( iirlccl in the still .iir. ( I I • CIIAITKR VI. toor-i'kiN IS. Im)R two weeks an unclouded sun rose and set on the rigid outlines of Monument i'oint. l"or twt) weeks there had been no ai)i)arent < hange in the j^diaslly whiteness of the snow tlanked nx ks ; in the white l)illows that rose rank on ran! lievond, in the deathlike stillness that reigned above an< below. It was the first day of April ; there was the mildnes of early spring in the air that blew over this gaunt waste, anc yet awoke no sound or motion. And yet a nearer ai)i)roa< h showed that a slow insidious change had been taking place. The white flanks (if the moun tain were more hollow ; the snow had shrunk visibly away in |»laces, leaving the gray rocks naked and protuberant ; the rigid outlines were there, but less full and rounded ; the skeleton was beginning to show thnnigh the wasted tlesh ; there were great patches of snow that had sloughed away, leaving the gleaming granite bare below. It was the last change of the Hil)l)ocretic face that Nature turned toward the spectator. And yet this change hail been noiseless- the solitude unbroken. And then one day there suddenly drifted across the death- like valley the chime of jingling spurs and the sound of human voices. Down the long defile a cavalcade of mounted men and ]ta( k mules made their way, plunging through drifts and clatter- ing over rocks, 'i'he unwonted sound awoke the long slumber- mu echoes of the mountain, brought tlown small avalan< hes from < liff and tree, and at last brought from some cavern of the rocks to the surface of the snow, a figure so wild, haggard, dis- heveled and monstrous, that it was scarcely human. It crawled 40 GAHKIF.L Ce")NK()V i>i I i'':. ;r fi, 11|,!|, ii\nm tlic snow, dodging behind ro< ks with tlic timidity of a frightened animal, and at last, scjiiattmg behind a tree, awaited in ambush the a};i)roa<'h of the i)arty. 'I'wo men rode ahead ; one grave, preoccui^ied and reticent. The other alert, active, and voluble. At last the reticent man spoke, l)ut slowly, and as if recalling a memory rather than recording a present impression. " They cannot be far away from us now. It was in some such spot that I first saw them. The place is familiar." " Meaven send that it may be," said the other hastily, " for to tell you the truth, I doubt if we will be able to keep the men together a day '^nger in this crazy quest, unless we discover something." " It was here," continued the other, dreamily, not heeding his companion, " that I saw the figures of a man and woman. If there is not a cairn of stones somewhere about this spot, I shall believe my dream false, and confess myself an old fool." "Well — as I said before," rejoined the other laughing, "any- thing—a scrap of paper, an old blanket, or a broken wagon- tongue will do. Columbus held his course and kept up his crew on a fragment of seaweed. But what are the men look- ing at? (ireatGod! There is something moving by yonder roc-k ! " By one common superstitious instinct the whole party had crowded i(\gether — those who, a few moments before, had been louv^er.t in their skepticism, held their breath with awe and cren, .)led with excitement — as the shambling figure that had wrttched them enter the canon, rose from its lair and, taking " )on itself a human semblance, with uncouth ge tures and a b '.nnge hoarse cry made toward them. It \vas I)umi)hy ! The leader was first to recover himself. He advanced from 'bo rest and met I)umi)hy half-way. " Who are you ?" • A man." "What's the matter.?" " Starving." "Where are the others?" Dumphy cast a suspicious glance at him and said: KOO J -PRINTS. ■\l ''Who?" "The otliers. Voii are not alone?" " Ves, I am !" " llou did you get licre?" " What's that to you ? I'm here and starving. Gimme suthin to cat and drink." Ik- sank exhaustedly on all fours again. There was a murmur of symj)athy from the men. '• (live him suthin. 1 )on't you see he can't stand— much less talk. Where's the Doctor?" And then the younger of the leaders thus adjured : " Leave him to mc — he wants my help just now, more than yours," He i)oured some brandy down his throat. Dumphy gasped, and then staggered to his feet. "What did you say your name was?" a^kcd the young surgeon, kindly. *' lackson," said I)umi»hy, with a defiantly L>lank look. "Where from?" "Missouri." " How did you get here ?" " Strayed from my party." " And they are — " "(ione on. Gimme suthin to eat !" "Take him back to camj) and hand him over to Sanchez. He'll know what to do." said the surgeon to one of the men. " Well, Blunt," he continued, addressing the leader, " you're s.wed — but your nine men in buckram have dwindled down to one — and not a very creditable s])ecimen at that," he said, as hi.s eyes followed the retreating l)umj)hy. " I wish it were all. Doctor," said Blunt, simply ; *' I would be willing to go back now. But something tells me we have only begun. This one makes everything else possible. What have you there ?" One of the me»i was apj^ronchlng holding a, slij^ of paper with ragged edges as if torn from some i)osition where it had I'ccn nailed. '■ A notiss — from a tree. Me no sabe," said the ex .4 1 . Kf 42 (.AHKIKL CffNKOV, " Nor I," said IJliint, looking at it, " it seems to he in Ger- man, Call Glohr." A tall Swiss came forward. Blunt handed him the i)aper. The man exnmi.a'd it. " It is a direction to find property —important and valuable property — buried." "Where?" " Under a cairn of stones." The surgeon and Blunt exchanged glances. " Lead us ihere !" said Blunt. It was a muffled monotonous tramp of about an hour. At the end of that time they reached a s})ur of the mountain around which the cafjon turned abruptly. Blunt uttered a cry. Before them was a ruin — a rude heap of stones originally symmetrical and elevated, but now thrown down and dis- mantled. The snow and earth were torn up around and be- neath it. On the snow lay some scattered papers, a portfolio of drawings of birds and flowers ; a glass case of insects broken and demolished, and the scattered feathers of a few stuffed birds. At a little distance lay what seemed to be a heap of ragged clothing. At the sight of it the nearest horseman uttered a shout and leaped to the ground. It was Mrs. Brackett, dead. C lAPTER VII. iN WHICH THK FOOr I'RINrS BF-OIN TO 7ADE. SiTF had been dead about a week. Tiie features and cloth- ing were scarcely recognizable ; the limbs were drawn up con- vulsively. The young surgeon bent over her attentively. " Starved to death?" sr.id Blunt, interrc^gatively. The surgeon am .jOt reply, but rose and examined the scat- tered specimens. One of them he picked Uj) and placed first to his nose and then to his lips. After a pause, he replied (juietly. IN WHICH iiii: i() i;Iv(;in im k\i>i;. 4;^ I "No. P()is()iu 44 f;AHRIF,L CONKON mm U „l' was still there, but the wooden hand that onre pointed in the (hrection ot the buried huts had, thmui^di some mischance ot wind or weather, dropj.^ed shi^htly and was ominously i)oinl ing to the snow below. i-; This was still so deep in drilts that the jiarty were obliged to leave then- horses and enter the rafion a-focU. Almost unconsciously, this was done in perfect silenct . walking in single file, occasionally climbing up the sides of the canon where the rocks offered a better foothold than the damji snow, until they reached a wooden ( himncy and jiart of a root that now reared itself above the snow. Here they paused and looked at each other. The leader approached the chimney and leaning over it called within. 'I'here was no resj)onsc. l^resently, however, the canon took up the shout and repeated it, and then there was a silence broken only by the falling of an icicle from a rock, or a snow slide from the hill above. Then all was (juiet again, until IJlunt after a moment's hesitation, walked around to the o])ening and descended into the hut. He had scan ely disap]")eared, as it seemed, before he returned, looking very white and grave, and beckoned to the surgeon. He instantly followed. After a little. the rest of the party, one after another, went down. 'J'he\ staid some time, and then came slowiv to the surface l)earing three dead bodies. They returned again quickly and then brought U|) the dissevered members of a fourth. This done, they looked at each other in silence. *' There should be another cabin here?" said lilunt after n pause. " Here it is." said one of the men, pointing to the chimney of the second hut. There was no ])reliminary "hallo >." or hesitation now. The worst was known. They all passed rapidly to the onening anc' disa])i)eared within. When they returned t,. the si.itace thev huddled together a whisi)ering but excited grouj). 'J'hey wen' so much pre-occujiied that they did not see that their ])arty was suddenly increased by the presence of a stranger. lUi, Iv ul i'KlNlb GKUW lAlNlER. 45 I • ciiAPri":R VIII. 'i:iK FOOT-PRINTS tJROW !• AINIKR. Tr was Phili]) Ashley I Fhilij) Ashley — fiided, travel-worn, hollow-eyed, but nervously energetic and easier, rhilij), who tour days before had left (irace the L^aiest of a h()si)it.il)le trap- per's half-breed f.iniily. in the California Valley. Philip- - ulooniv, discontented, hateful of the (|uest he had undertaken, hut still fulfilling his proniivse to (Irace, and the savage dictates of his own conscience. It was Philip Ashley, who now, stand- ing beside the hut, turned half cynically, half indifierently, to- ward the ])arty. 'ihe surgeon was first to discover him. Pie darted forward with a cry of recognition, "Poinsett! Arthur! — what are you doing here?" Ashley's face flushed crimson at the sight of the stranger. "Plush,"' he said, almost involuntarily. He glanced rapidly around the grou]^ and then in some embarrassment rei)lied with awkward literalness, "I left my horse with the others at the entrance of the canon !" " 1 see," said the surgeon briskly, " you have ( ome with re lief like ourselves ; but you are too late ! too late !" " Too late ?" echoed Ashley. " Yes, they are all dead or gone !" A singular expression (r(i>sed Ashley's face. It was un- notii ed by the sur'^on, who was wliisi^ering to Blunt. Pre- seiuly he came forucud. "Captain Blunt, this is Lieutenant Poinsett of the i'ifth In- t.intry, an old messmate of mine, whom I have not met belore tor two years. He is here, like ourselves, c>n an errand of men y. It is like him !" The unmistakable air of high breeding and intelligence whit h • IN WHICH llll" FOOT-PRIMS AKK lOSF l()KI\l U. to (]iKulr;ingle, when the Comandantc, who was taking his noonday sic^td Ml a low studded ch.ur.bcr beside the guard room, was gently awakened by his secretary, l-'or thirty years tlie noon- (i.i\ shnnl)ers of the Connnander had never been broken ; his first tlioiiglit was tlie liealheu ! — his first impulse, to reaeh for his trusty Toledo. But, as it so ha|)])ene(l, the cook had borrowed it that morning to rake tortillas from the I'residio oven, and Don Juan Salvatierra contented himself with sternly demanding the reas(jn for this unwonted intrusion. •' A senorita — an Americ an — desires an immediate aiidient e." Don Juan removed the black silk handkerchief which he had tied around his griz/led brows, and sat up. Before he could assume a more formal attitude, the door was timidly opened, and a young girl entered. lor all the disfigurement of scant, coarse, ill-fitting clothing, or the hollowness of her sweet eyes, and even the tears that dimmed their long lashes ; for all the sorrow that had pinched her young cheek and straightened the corners of her child-like mouth, she was still so fair, so frank, so youthful, so innocent and helpless, tliat the ComanJante stood erect and then bent forward in u salutation that almost swept the floor. Apparently the prepossession was mutual. The young girl took a (juick survey of the gaunt but gentleman-like figure be- lore her, cast a rai)id glance at the serious but kindly eyes that shone above the Commander's iron-grey mustachios, droi)ped her hesitating, timid manner, and, with an im))ulsive gesture and a little cry, ran forward and fell upon her knees at his feet. The Commander would have raised her gently; but she restrained his hand. " No, no, listen ! I am only a poor, poor [':irl without friends or home. A month ago I left my family star/ing in the moun- tains, and came away to get them helj). My brother came with me. ( lod was good to us, Sefior. and after a weary tramp ot many days we found a trapper's hut, and food and shelter. Philip, my brother, went back alone to succor them. He has not returned. O sir, he may be dead ; they all may be dead - God only knows! It is three weeks ago since he left me, ;hree weeks ! It is a long time to be alone, Senor, a stranger in a strange land. The tra|)jjer was kind and sent me here t(> 1 >• 50 t..\i;Kill (ONROV I ymi for assistance. You will hilp nic ? I kin)\v you will. You will lind ihcm. my iVicnds, my little sister, my brother!" The I'ommauder waited until she had finished, and then ^entlv lifted her to a seal by his side. Then he turned to his secretary, who, with a tew hurried words in Spanisii, answered the mule intjuiry of the C'ommander's eyes. The young girl fell a thrill ol" disjppoinlment as she saw that her personal ap- peal had been lost and unintelligible ; it was with a slight touch ofdillance that was new to her nature that she turned to the secretary, wiio advanced as an inlerpieler. '* Vou are an American ?"' " Yes," said ihe girl, curtly, who liad laki'ii one of the strange, swift, instinctive dislikes ot her sex, to the man. " 1 low many years ?" ♦' rifleen." The ( "ommaiuler, almost unconsciously, laid his brown hand on her < lustering curls. "Name?" She hesitated and looked at the Commander. " (irace," she said. Then she hesitated ; and, with a defiant glance at the secre- tary, added : '•('.race Ashley !" "(iive to me the names of some of your company, Mees (ka/.iashly?" (Irace hesitated. "Philip Ashley, (labriel Conroy, Peter Dumphy, Mrs. Jane l)umj)hy," she said at last. The secretary oi)ened a desk, took out a printed document, untolded it, and glanced over ilscontenls. Presently he handed it to the C'ommander with the comment " Biienoy The Com- mander said " Bucno''^ also, and glanced kindly and reassuringly at Criace. An expedition from the upi^er Presidio has found traces of a i)arty ot Americans in the Sierra," said the secretary, monoto- nously. "There are names like these." " It is the same —it is our party ! " said Grai:e, joyously. " You say so ? " said the secretary, cautiously. " Yes," said (irace, defiantly. IN WIIU II im lOor-I'KIN IS AKI Insl ITiKf-VIK 51 I I riic scnvlary ^lancctl at llic paper a^ain, oiid llicn ^aul, looking at Ciracc intently : " 'I'licre is no name (»t Mees (Ir.i/iashly."' 'Ihe liot blood siiddenlv died the cluek of Ciracc and her iVvlids drop[)ed. She raised her eyes iniploriiiLily to the Com- mander, ir she could have re;H hed him direi lly, she would have thrown herselt at his feel and confessed iier innocent de- ( cit, but she !;hrank from a confidence tiiat hrst filtered through the consciousness of the secretary. So slie began to fence feebly with the issue. •' It is a mistake," she said. " But the name of I'hilij*. my brother, is there ?" " The name of Philip Ashley is here," said the secretary, grimly. " And he is alive and safe!" cried Grace, forgetting in her relief and joy, her previous shame and mortification. " He is not found," said the secretary. " Not found?" said Grace, with widely oi)ened eyes. " He is not there." " No, of course," said Grace, with a nervous, hysterical huigh ; "he \v;is with me ; but he came ba( k he returned." *' On the 30th of April there is no record of the finding of IMiili]) Ashley." Grace groaned and clasped her hands. In her greater anxiety now, all lesser fears were forgotten. She turned and threw herself before the Commander. '* O, forgive me, Senor, but I swear to you I meant no harm; Philij) is not my brother, but a friend, so kind, so good. He asked me to take his name, [joor boy, God knows if he will over claim it again, and i did. My name is not Ashley. I know not what is in that jjajjcr, but it must tell of mv brother Ciabriel, my sister, of all ! (), Senor, are the living or dead? Answer me you must, — for — T am — I am Grace Conroy!" The secretary had refolded the paper. He opened it again, glanced over it, fixed his eyes upon Grace, and, pointing to a l»aragraph. handed it to the Commander. The two men ex- changed glances, the Commander coughed, rose, and averted his face Irom the beseeching eyes of Grace. A sudden death- hke chill ran through her limbs as, at a word from the Com- r,') iJAhKll.L tUNKOV. m.indir, the secretary rose and plared \\\c paper in her IkukIs. (lra< c took it with treinhling (Ini^'ers. It seemed to l)c a pro- clanialioM in Spanisli. " I ( aFinot read it," slie said, stamping' her little loot with passionate vclienicnce. " Tell inc what it says." At a si|;n troin the Coinmander, the secretary opened the paper and arose. 'I'he Coininander, with his face averted, looked through tiie open window. I'he lij^ht, streaming through its deep, tunnel like embrasure, fell iii)on the ( entral figure of Grace, with her shapely head slightly bent forward, her li[)s aj)art, and her eager, jassionate eyes tixeil upon the Com mander. The secretary cleared his throat in a i)erfun(tory manner ; and, w ilh the conscious pride of an irreproachable linguist, began : ♦• NOTICE. *' TO HIS KXCKLt.KNCY THK COMANDANIl', OF TUF, FKKSIDIO Or FKI.irK. JAN " I have the honor to report tiiat the expeilicion sent out to relieve cer- tain ilistresseil cniijiiants in ilic fasUii-Sses uf the .Sierra Nevatlas, ^aiJ expeili- cion beinj^sent on the ni format ion of I)on Jose Hlucnt of .San ( Icioninio. foil ml in a caiKjn east of the Canada del Diablo the evidcncLs of the recent exist- ence of such emigrants buried in the snow, and the melancholy and deeply to be deplored record of tlieir suiforin^s, abandonment, and death. A written record, preserved by these miserable and mo.-,t infelicitous one> j^ivc', the names and history of their organization, known as ' Captain Conroy's Party,' a copy of which is annexeil below. *' Tlie remains of live of these unfortunates were reeovored from the snow, but it was impo.->sible to identify but two, who were luiried with sacred and reverential rites. "Our soldiers behaved with that j;allantry, coolness, patriotism, inflexi- ble hardihood, and hi','!! jnincipled devotion which ever animate the swell iuj; heart or the Mexican warrior. \or can Ia)o much praise l)e given to tlie voluntary effi)rls of one Don Arlluir I'oinsctl, late l.icuienant of the Army of the United Slates of America, who. though himself a voyager and stranger, assisted our connnander in the efforts of luimanity. " The wretched dead appeared to have expired from hunger, although one was evidently a victim " The tongue of the translator hesitated a moment, and then with an air of proud superiority t(j the difficulties of the J^nglish language, he resumed — IS WHICH nil iTif.i iiuNTS \uy m-,] ifiinvKK. •iif Avidmi Id fly prtison, li i-. to In' rop,'i( tied llial im\nii(^ llic vici ini- w.i'illu' (.iiivdis |)(iclor r.inl I )(v.Mi;f-., a Niilnral, and inllcclor of tlir viiilTril Hiid and Ik'.isl, a nanic nM-,t illuslrioiis in scani-c." 'I'lu' Si'( rotary jiaiisfd. his voice dropiicd its |»ivtt'ntioiis |)it< li. hi' litti'd I"'^' (Vis tVom tlu' paper, and tixing them on (iiaie, re jK'ated (1 iiatcly : " riu" liodics who well' idrntifud were tlinsf of Paul I)evarpes and (irncf Cunruy." "Oh. no I no!" sniddrnie, r\is])in^^ her hands wildly: "it is a mistake! \'ou are trying to frij^^hten nic, a poor, helpless, fririidless girl ! Wnx are punishing me, gentlemen, Iiecaiise \(tii know I have done wrong, because you think I have lied ! Oil, iiave'j)ity, gentlemen. My Ciod save me — lMiili|»!" And with a loud, despairing cry, she rose to her feet, caught al the (lustering tindrils of her hair, raised her little hands, palms upward, high in air, and tlun sank i)er|)en(licularly as if (rushed and lieaten flat, a pale and senseless hea|) upon the floor. The Commander stooped o\er the prostrate girl. " Send Manuela here." he said (piickly, waving aside the proffered aid of the secretary, with an imjialient gesture (]uite unlike his usual gravity, as he lifted the unconscious Orace in his arms. An Indian waiting woman hurriedly appeared, and assisted the Commander to lay the fainting girl upon a couch. " I'oor child !" said the C!ommander, as Manuela, bending over (1 race, unloosed her garments with sympathetic feminine iianch J'oor little one. and without a f^ither !' ■• I'oor woman !" said Manuela to herself, iialf aloud ; "and wiliiout a husband !" CIIAl'TKR X. ONF. HORSE nUI.CH. I I It was a season of unexampled prosjurity in One Ib^rseCiuh h. I'ven 'he despondent original locator, who, in a fit of depressed akoholism, had gi\'en it that iiifeli( itous title, would have ad- » .4-\ r»i GAHRFF.I. CONROV. i\V- J-ll^ ^n, fiiiU'd its injustice but thai he tell .i vi( tii.i to the " crauily [ualified" cups of San Francisco long before the Gulcli had !)e(()inc prosperous. " Hed Jim stu( k to straight whiskv he might hev got his pile outer the very ledge whur his cabin stood," said a local critic. But Jim did not ; alter taking a thousand dollars from his claim he had tlown to .San Francis( o. where, gorgeously arrayed, hie had (htted from chami agne to cognac, and from gin to 1 iger beer, until he brought his gilded and ei)hemeral existence to a close in the county hos})ital. Hovvbeit. One Horse (iulch survived not only its godfather, but the baleful promise of its unhallowed christening. It had its Hotel and its Temperance House, its Exi)ress office, its saloons, its two squares of low wooden buildings in the main street, its clustering nests of cabins on the hill-sides, its freshly hewn stumj)s and its lately cleared lot.s. \'oung in years, it still had its memories experiences, and anti(iuities. The first lent pitched by Jim White was still standiui;,, the bullet holes were yet to be seen in the shutter^ of the Cachucha saloon, where the grea* fight took place between Boston Joe, Harry Worth, and Thompson of Angels ; from the u|)i)er loft of Watson's " Emporium" a bea*Vi still projected from which a year ago a noted citizen had been sasi)ended after an informal inquiry into the ownership of some mules tliat he was found possessed of. Near it was a small unj'-etentious square shed, where the fim;> suggestion in tlicir manner tlinl their <()ni|)nny t'l.Tiv (•onij»cn- satccl for any waste of his material. They had heen smoking silently--a silonce only broken by the occasion; i hiss of expectoration against the hot stove, when the door of a back room opened softly, and dabriel Conroy entered. " How is he gettin' on. (iabe?" asked (^ne of the loungers. "So, so," saicl (iabriel. "You'll want to shift those band- ages agin," he said, turning to Uriggs, " afore the doctor comes. I'd come back in an liour, but I've got to drop in and .see how Steve's gettin' on, and it's a matter of two miles from home." " But he says he won't let anybody tech him but you," said Mr. Briggs. "1 know he says so," said Gabriel soothingly, "but he'll get over that That's what Stimson sed when he was took worse, but he got over that, and I never got to see him excej)! in tune to lay him out." The justice of this was admitted even by Briggs, although evidently disaj)pointed. (labriel was walking to the door, when another voice from the stove stopped him. "Oh, (labe! you mind that emigrant family with th«> sick baby camped down the gulch ? Well, the ba'oy up and di^d last night." " I want to know," said Gabriel, with thoughtt'ul gravity. " Ves, and that woman's in a hea}) of trouble. Couldn't you kinder drop in in j)assing and look after things?" "I will," said Gabriel thoughtfully. " I thought you'd like to know it, and I thought she'd like me to tell you," said the speaker, settling himself back again over the stove with the air of a man who had just fulfilled, at great personal sacrifice and labor, a work of sujjererogation. "You're always thoughtful of other folks, Johnson," said Briggs admiringly. "Well, yes," said Johnson, with a modest serenity, " I allers allow that men in Galiforny ought to think of others besides themselves. A litile keer and a little s<7/>f on my j)avt, and there's that family in the gulch made comfortable wliii Gabe around '«m." Meanwhile this homelv inciter of ihe unselfish virtues ot One vv; 56 C.AI'.klKf, (:ONlU)\'. H -fJU"! Morse (Jiilcli liad passed out into tlic niiii and darkness. So conscientiously did he fulfill his various ol)liLi;ations, that it was nearly one o'clock before he reached his rude hut on the hill side, a rough cabin of pine logs, so un])retentious and wild in exterior as to be but a slight improvement on nature. The vines clambered unrestrainedly over the bark-thatched roof; the birds occui)ied the crevices of the walls, the scpn'rrel ate his acorns on the ridge-jxile without fear and without re))roach. Softly drawing the wooden peg that served as a bolt, (iabriel entered with that noiselessness and caution that was habitual to him. Lighting a candle by the embers of a dying lire, he carefully looked around him. The cabin was divided into two compartments by the aid of a canvas stretciied between the walls, with a flaj) for tlie doorway. On a pine table lay several garments apparenth' belonging to a girl of seven or eight — a frock grievously rent and torn, a frayed jietticoat of white Han- nel already ])atched with material taken from a red shirt, and a pair of stockings so excessively and sincerely darned, as to have lost nearly all of their original fabric in rcDeated bits ot relief that covered almost the entire structure. ( .abriel looked at these articles ruefully, and, .slowly picking them uj), examined each with the greatest gravity 'and concern. Then he took oft' his coat and boots, and having in this way settled himself into an easy dishabille, he took a box from the shelf, and ])roceeded to lay out thread and needles, when he was interrupted by a child's voice from behind the canvas screen. "Is that you, Gabe?" "Yes." " Oh, (Jabe, I got tired and went to bed." " I see you did," said (iabriel dryly, j)icking up a needle and thread that had ai)parently been abandoned after a slight ex- cursion into the neighborhood of a rent and left hopelessly sticking in the ])etticoat. *' Yes, Gabe ; they're so awfully old !" "Old!" repeated' (Jabe reproachfully. "Old! Lettin' on a little wear and tear, they're as good as they ever were. That petticoat is stronger," said Gabriel, holding up the garment and eying the i)atoi/it e :" " Yes," said Gabriel, putting down his work despairingly. '* Do you think- that Philip — ate Grace?" Gabriel rose swiftly, and disappeared behind the screen. As I » ••;' % 1 60 (iAHKIKI lONKOy. 'I -I'l i^k' I' I he (lid so. tlic door softly ()j)cnccl, and u in;in stcpjtcd into the ral)iii. The new ( omer cast a rapid j^Iance around the diinlv lighted room, and tlien remained motionless in the door-way. l''rom behind the screen came the sound of voices. The stranger lusitated. and then uttered a slight cough. In an instant (iabriel re-appeared. Tiie lo(jk ot angry con- cern at the intrusion turned to one of absolute stupefaction as he examined the stranger more attentively. The new-conicr smiled faintly, yet ])olitely, and tn.en, with a slight halt in jiis stej), moved toward a chair, into which he dropped with a deprecating gesture. " I shall sit — and you shall pardon me. You have surprise! Yes ? Five, six hour ago you leave me very sick on a bed- where you are so kind — so good. Yes ? Ah ? You see rae here now, and you say crazy ! Mad ! " He raised his right hand with the fingers upward, twirled them to signify Ciabriel's supposed idea of a whirling brain, and smiled again. " Listen. Comes to me an hour ago a message most important. Most necessary it is I go to-night — now, to Marysville. You see. Yes ? I rise and dress myself. Ha ! I have great strength for the effort. I am better. But I say to myself, 'Victor, you shall first i)ay your respects to the good Pike who have been so kind, so good. You shall press the hand of the noble grand miner who have recover you.' Bucuo, I am here ! " He extended a thin, nervous brown hand, and for the first time since his entrance concentrated his keen black eyes, which had roved over the ajKirtment and taken in its minutest details. u[)on his host, (iabriel, lost in bewilderment, could only gasp: " But vou ain't well enough, you know. You can't walk yet. You'll kill youi.selt ! " The stranger smiled. "Yes? — you think — you think? Look nowM Waits me. outside, the horse of tl>« livery stable man. How many miles you think to the stage town? Fifteen. " (He emphasized them with his five uj)lifted fingers.) " It is nothing. Two hour comes the stage and I am there. Ha ! " Even as he spoke, with a gesture, as if brushing away all ONK Hftr^SF', c.ni.cM. HI a see rae (IiHk uities, his keen eyes were resliny; upon a little shelt" above the ( hininey, whereon stood an okl-t'asliioned (hij^uerreoiy|)e case open. He rose, and villi a sHghl lialting stej) and an ex- j)rossion of pain, Hniped across the room to the shelf, and took up the daguerreotype. " What have we ? '' he asked. "It is (iracie," said ( lahriel brightening up. "Taken tlie dav we started trom St. lo." " How long?" "Six years ago. She was fourteen then," said Gabriel, taking the « ase in his hand and brushing the glass fondly with his palm. "Thar warn't no j)uttier gal in all Missouri," he added with fraternal pride, looking down ui)on the i)ic:ture with moistened eyes. " Eh^ — what did you say ? " The stranger had uttered a few words hastily in a foreign tongue. But they v.ere a])i)arently complimentary, for when (labriel looked up at inm with an inquiring glance, he was smiling and saying, " Beautiful ! Angelic ! Very pretty ! " with eyes still fixed upon the jjicture. "And it is like- -ah, 1 see the brother's face, too," he said, gravely, comparing (iabriel's face with the picture. Gabriel looked pleased. Any nature less simple than his would have detected the polite fiction. Jn the scjuare, honest lace of the brother there was not the faintest su;4gesiion of the delicate, girlish, j)oetical oval bef(jre him. *• it is precious," said the straiiger; "and it is all, ha?" "All." echoed Gabriel, incjuiringly. "You have nothing more?" " No." " A line of her writing, a letter, her i)rivate papers would be a treasure, eh ? " "She left nothing," said Gabriel, simjjly, " but her clothes. You know she i)Ut on a bov's suit- dohnnv's clothes — vvhon she left. Thet's how it alius puzzled me thet they knew iclio she was, when they came across the poor child dead." The stranger did not speak, and Gabriel went on : " It was nigh on a month afore I got back. When I did. the snow was gone, and there warn't no track or trace ot in\l)ody. Then 1 heerd the story I told ye- thet a relief party had tound 'em all dead — and thet among the dead was Grace. ;:•< < ■., >■ j;2 OAnRIFI- rONROY. If,:-: if !l ill T'' t>' •»'*> How that poor < hild ever got back thar alone (forthar warn't no trace or mention of the man she went away with) is what gets me. And that there's my trouble, Mr. Ramirez ! To think of that ])ooty darhn' (:liml)ing back to the old nest and findin' no one thar ! To think of her coming back, as she allowed, to Oily and me, and lindin' all her own blood gone, is suthin thet, at times, drives me almost mad. She didn't die of starvation ; ^hc didn't die of cold. Her heart was broke, Mr. Ramirez; iier little heart was broke ! " The sti'anger looked at him curiously, but did not speak. After a moment's pause, he lifted his i)owed head from his hands, wij)ed his eyes with Olly's fl uincl petticoat, and went on : *' i^'or more than a year I tried to get sight of that report. Then I tried to find the mission or the Presidio that the relief l)arty started from, and may be see some of that party. Rut then kem the gold excitement, and the Americans took possession of the Missions and Presidios, and when I got to San —San — San — " " Geronimo," interrujjted Ramirez, hastily. *' Did I tell?" asked Gabriel, simi)lv ; "I disremembev that." Ramirez showed all his teeth in quick assent, and motioned him with his tinger to go on. " When 1 got to San Geronimo, there was nobody, and no records left. Then I ])Ut a notiss in the San Francisco paper for Philip Ashle)' — that was the man as helped her away — to communicate with me. But thar wen.-n't no answer.'' Ramirez rose. * You are not rich, friend Gabriel?" *'No," saidCiabriel. •• But you expect — ah- -you ex])ect? " " Well, I reckoji some day tc make a strike like the rest." " Anywhere, my friend ? " '' Anywhere," re]>eated Gabriel smiling. " Adios" said the ^tran^':er going to the door. *' Ai//ps" r'.^j)eated Gabriel. " Must you go to-niglit? What'.- your huny .-* Vou are sure vou leel better now ? " MADAM K DF.VARGKS, e3 ••IJcttcr?" answered R iiiiircz, with a singular smile. " lletter ! Look, I am so slron^j; ! " He stretched out his arms and exi)anded his chest, and walked erect to the door. " \'ou have cured my rheumatism, friend Oabriel. (lood- ni^ht." The door closed behind him. In another moment he was in the saddle, and speeding so swiftly away, that, in spite of mud and darkness, in two hours he had reached the mining town when.' the W'ingdam and Sacramento stage- coat h changed horses. The next morning, while Oily and (iabriel were eating breakfast, Mr, Victor Ramirez stepped hriskly from the stage that drew up at the Marysville Hotel anel entered the hotel office. As the clerk looked up imiuiringlv, Mr. Ramiiez handed him a i ard ; " Send that, if you please, to Miss Grace Couroy." CHAPTER XL MADAME DFVARC.ES. Mr. Ramirez followed the porter upstairs and along a narrow passage until he reached a larger hall. Here the jiorter indicated that he should wait until he returned, and then disappeared down the darkened vista of another passage. Mr. Ramirez had am])le time to observe the freshness of the hoarc'ed partitions and scant details of the interior of the International Hotel ; he even had time to attemj^t to grapple the foreign mystery of the notice conspicuously on the wall, '•(Icntlemen are re([uested not to sleej) on the stairs," before Ills com[)anion re-appeared. Beckoning to Mr. Ramirez, with an air of surly susi)icion, the ])orter led him along the (Lukcned passage until he paused before a door at its furthest extremity, and knocked gently. Slight as was the knock, it had the mysterious effect of causing all the other doors along ,t' *•: ■ ■ 1 .5 ^»:-^-7^ r,4 (;.\HRIi:i, ( nNU(»\ . . "!■■ .Ii. ,.» *«< the passage to open, and a niasc iilinc head to a])pear at eac h oi)eiiiiig. Mr. Kaniire/'s l)ro\v darkened <|ui(kly. He was suttK ienlly conversant with tlie conditions ot" that early civih/ation to know that, as a visitor to a lady, lie was tlu' object of every other man's curious envy (uid aggressive suspicion. 'I'here was the sound of light footsteps within, and the door oi)ened. 'i'he porter lingered long enough to be able to tlecidc upon the character and propriety ^f the greeting, and then sullenly retired. 'i'he door closed, and Mr. Kaniire/ found himself face to face with the occupant of the room. She was a small, slight blonde, who, when the smile that iiad lit her mouth and eyes as she ojjened the door, faded suddenly as she closed it, might have i)assed for a plain, indistinctive woman. But for a certain dangerous submissiveness of manner — which 1 here humbly submit is always to l)e feared in an all- powerful sex — and an address that was rather more deprecatory than occasion called for, she would hardly have awakened the admiration of our sex, or the fears of her own. As Ramirez advanced, with both hands impulsively extended, she drew back shyly, and, pointing to the ceiling and walls, said, (luietly : "• Cloth and i)aper ! " Ramirez's dark face grew darker. There was a long pause. Suddenly the lady lightened the shadow that seemed to have fallen upon their interview with both her teeth and eyes, and, pointing to a chair said : '* Sit down, \'ictor, and tell me why you have returned so soon." Victor sat sullenly down. 'i'he lady looked all deprecation and submissiveness, but said nothing. Ramirez would, in his sullenness, have imitated her, but his natural impulsiveness was too strong, and he broke out : " Look ! From the book of the hotel it is better you should erase the name of (irace Conroy, and ])Ut down your own ! " " And why, Victor ? " " She asks why," said Victor, appealing to the ceiling. "My (iod ! Because one hundred miles from here live the brother and sister of (Irace Conioy. 1 have seen him ! " ^^^T MAPAMK r»KVAiu;K.s;. fSA I • Is it well? Listen. Vou shall " WVII." " Well," echoed Victor. Ikmv if it is well." He drew his chair beside her, and went on m :\ low, earmst \())<'e : '* 1 linvc at last located the mine. I followed the (/cwno - the (ies(ri]ttion of the sj)ot and all its siirrrmndings which was in the paper that 1 I found. (lootl I it is true ! ah, you i>et,'in to he interested ! — it is true, all true of the Kxality. See! Of the s])ot, 1 do not know. Of the mine it has not yet been discovered ! " "It is called 'One Horse OuUh;' why? who knows? It is a rich mining <"amp. All aroimd are vnluahle < laims ; but the mine on the toj) of the little hill is unknctwn. unclaimed ! For why? Vou imderstand, ii i)romises not as much as the other claims on the surface. It is the same— all as described here." He took from his po(ket an envelope, and drew out a tolded i)noer (the pai)er given to (Irace Conroy by Dr. |)evaru;es), and pointed to the ma]). " Tlie description here leads me to the headwaters of the American River. 1 follow the range of foot-hills, for I know every toot, every step, and I came one day last week to ' One Horse Oulch.' See it is the gulch described here— all the .same." He held the paper before her, and her thin, long fmgers closed like a bird's claw over its corners. ■'It is necessary 1 should stay there four or five days to in(|uire. And yet how? I am a stranger, a foreigner; tUe miners have suspicion of all siK-h, and to me they do not talk ejsilv. But I hear of one (Jabriel C'onroy, a gcvul man. very kind with the sick. (j(K>d I I ha\e sickness - very sudden. Very strong! Mv rheumatism takes me here." He ixiinled to his knee. " I am helpless as a child. 1 have to be taken care of at the house of Mr. Iiriu:gs. C.'omes to me here (labriel ("onroy. sits by nie, talks to mo, tells me everything. He hrin^s to me his liule sister. I go to his cabin on the hil!. 1 see the picture of his sister. Good. \'o\\ understand? Ir i.s all over ' " •^^ . A r> (Mi'.uiKr. rr)vur>v. \l ' ' I' ■V<' ''Why?" " Kh ? She asks why, tliis woman," said Victor, a|)i)L'aling lo the ceihrif;. 'Ms it more you ask ? Tlicii listen : 'I'hc house ot Gabriel Conroy is ujxin the kind, the very hind, you under stand? ot the j^rant made l)y the (lov-rndr to Dr. I )cvarj;es Me is tliis (labriel, look I he is in |)ossessi()n I " " How ? Does he know ot the mine? " " No I It is accident what you call I'ate ! " She walked to the window, and stood for a few momenta lookin^^ out upon the (;illinL( rain. The l';i(e tiiat looketl out was so old, so ha_L;|;ard, so h;ird and set in its outlines, that onr of" the loungers on the sidewalks, glan< ing at the window to < atch a glimpse ot the pretty Kren( h stranger, did not reiogni/e her. I'ossibly the incident recalled her to herselt", for she presently turned with, a smile of ineffable sweetness, and, returning to the side of Kamire^i, said, in the gentlest of voices : " 'I'hen you abandon mc?" Victor did not dare to meet her eyes. He looked straight before him, shrugged his shoulders, and said : " It is Fate ! " She clas|)ed her thin fingers lightly before her, and, standing in front of her companion, so as to be level with his eye.->, said : " You have a good memory, Victor." He did not reply. " Let me assist it. It is a year :.go that I received a letter in Berlin, signed by a Mr, Peter 1 )umphy, of San Francisct), saying that he was in possession of important papers regarding l)roperty of my late husband. Dr. Paul Devarges, and asking me to communicate with him. 1 did not answer hl< letter; 1 came. It is not my way to deliberate or hesitate— perhaps a wise man would. I am only a ])oor, weak woman, so I came. I know it was all wrong. You, sharp, bold, cautious men would have written first. W^ell, 1 came ! " Victor winced slightly, but did not speak. "1 saw Mr. Dumphy in San Francisco. He showed me some ])a|)ers that he said he had found in a place of deposit, which Dr. Devarges had evidently wished preserved. One wcis ♦. . . MADAM K DKVARr.F.S. .1 rcronl of a Spanish ^rant. tttlicrs indicated some valuabk" ,Iis(()\L'iics. lie rdcrrcd nic to the Mission and I':\.,idio of San \N.il)t'l tliat had sent out ihi- relict party for IitiIkt information, lie was a trader -a mere man of business it was a (juestion nionev with him; he a)^ reed to assist me iox a penentai^e .' [s It not so ? " \ K tor raised his dark eyes to hers and nodded, '• 1 ( ;nne to the Mission. I .saw yott the Secretary of the toniuT Comaiidante - -the only one left who remembered the txjiedition, and the < uslodian of the J'residir) records. N'ou showed nie the only (opy of the rejjort ; you, too, would have hren cold and business like, until 1 t(jld you my story. \'ou seemed interested. You told me about the young girl, this mvsterious (irace Conroy, whose name apj)eare(l among the dead, who, yuu said yuu tiiouglu, was an impostor ! Did you not?" \'i(tor nodded. '' \'ou told me of her agony on reading the report ! Of her fainting, of the discovery of her c(mdition by the women, of the CoiiKuidante's pity, of her mysterious disappearance, of the CoinandcUite's reticence, ot your own suspicions of the birth of a child ! Did you not, Victor? " He endeavored to take her hand. Without altering her gentle manner, she withdrew her hand quietly and went on : "And llien vou told me of your finding that pa|)er on the floor where they loosened her dress- -the paper you now hold in vour hand. Vou told me of your reasons for concealing and withholding it. And then, Victor, you proposed to me a plan to secure my own again — 1(^ personate this girl — to 'out- imposture this im))osture. Vou did not ask me for a percentage! You did not seek to make money out of my needs ; vou asked only for r. y love I Well, well ! perhaps I was a fool, a weak woman. It was a temi)ting bribe; po;sil)lv 1 listened more to the prom])tings of my heart than my interest. I promised you my hand and my fortune when we succeeded. \ oil come to me now and ask to be relieved of that obligation. No I no ! you ha .e said enough." The now frightened man had seized her by the hand and -'" •' • ' '' \ P : ■ '. m (;8 GAP.Rll.I, roN'kov ■r.. 'M |i "•I': '"■ |H- ♦lirown himself on liis knees before lier in passionate (ontiition; bill, with a i)o\verful effort, she iiiul wrested herself free. " No, no ! " she continued in the same de])ri''ntory voice. " (io to tliis l)rother, whom the cliief end of yoiir labor seenis t(^ have been to discover. Go to him now. Restore to him the iia])er noli hold in your hand. Say that you h;tole it froui his sister, whom you sus])ected to have been an impostor, and that you know to be the mother of an illeLjitimate cliild. Sa\ that in doing Hiis, you took the last hoi)e from the wronged and cast-off wife who cau'ie thousands of miles to claim some thing from the man who should have suj)i)orted her. vSay this, and that brother, if he is the good and kind man you rej^resent him to be, he will rise uj) and bless you ! You kiave only to tell him further, that this paj)er cannot be of any use t«) him. as this i)roperty legally belongs to his sister's child, if living You have c)nlv U) hand him the rei)ort which declare both ot his sisters to be dead, and leaves his own identity in doubt, to ohow him wliat a blessing has fallen upon him.'" "Forgive me," gasped Victor, with a ])ainful blending ot shame and an awesome admiration of the vvom.an before him : "forgive me, Julie ! 1 am a coward i a slave ! an ingrate ! 1 will do anything, Julie ; anything you say." Madame Devarges was too sagacious to press her victory further: perhaps she was too cautious in exasperate the alread\ incautious^v demonstrative man before her. She said "Hush," and permitted him at the same time, as if unconciously, to draw her besides iiim. " Listen, Victor. What have you to fear fro p-> this man?" she asked after a pause. " What would his evidence weigii against me, when he is in unlawful possession of my i:»roperty, my legally declared property, if I choose to d^uy his relation ship? Who will identity him as (labriel Conroy, when his only surviving relative dare not come forward to recognize him; when, if she did, you c -uld swear that she came to fou under another name? What wouhl this brother's self-interested evidence amount to oi)posed to yours, that 1 the was (Irace Conroy who came to the Mission, to the proof of my identity '^ffereil by one of the survivors, Peter Dumphy ? " " Dumpii) ! " echoed Ramire/, in amazement. 'M\r)V\!K Di VARdKS;. 69 '< . •• ^'cs. I)um;)hvl" repeated Madnim- hevarqes. " WIkmi lu- idund that, as the divorced wile of Dr. 1 )evar!:,es, I eould makr no leL,'al claim, and I told him ot" your plan, he offered hini>.el .IS witness of my identity. Ah, Victor ! I have not been idle while voii have found only obstacles." " Forgive me ! " He caui^ht and kissed iier hands j)assionat.ely. " I fly now. (lood-bye." "Where are you going?" she asked, rising. "'1\) *One Horse (iiilch.'" he answered. "No ! Sit down. Listen. You must go to San Francisco and inform Dumphy of your d'^.overy. It will be necessary. perhaps, to have a lawyer ; but we must first see how strong we stand. You must tind out the whereabouts of this girl, Cirace, at once. Go to San Francisco, see Dumphy, and return to mc here ! " "But you are alone here and unj)rol'. led. 'I'lese men !" The quick sus))icions of a jealous nature flashed in his eyes. " IJelieve me, they are less dangerous to our plans than women! Do you not trust me, Victor?" she said, with a daz/ling smile. He would have thrown himself at her feet, but she restrained him with an aich look at the v/all, and a precautionary uplifted tinger. " (lood ; go now. Stay. This (Jabricl — is he Uktvrit'd?*' "No." •' (ioodbye." The door closed upon his dark, eager face, and he was gone. A moment later there was a sharp ringing of the bell of No. i)2. the next room to that occupied by Mme. 1 )evarges. The truculent ])orter knocked at the door, and entered this room res|)ectfullv. There was no suspicion attached to the rharacter of I'fs occupant, //e was well known as Mr. Ja( k Hamlin, a gam])ler. ••Why the devil did you keej) me wailing?" said jack, reaching from the bed. and u:athfully clutching his boot-jack. The man murmured some ai)ology. •' Bring me some hot water." riie porter was about to hurriedly withdraw, when Jack stop- ped him with an oath. •1- , >) .. \->. 70 r.ABRIFT, rONROV " You've b "^n long enough coming without sliooting off like that. Who was that man that just left the next room ?" '' I don't know, sir." " Find out, and let me know." He flung a gold jiiece at the lunn, bent u]) his ])iIlow, and turned his face to the wall. The |)orter still lingered, and Ja( k faced sharply round. " Not gone yet ? What the devil — " " Beg your pardon, sir; do you know anything about heri^" " No," said jack, raising himself on his elbow, '* but if I catch you hanging round that door, as you were five minutes ago, I'll-" Here Mr. Hamlin dro]iped his voice, and intimated that he would forcibly dislodge certain vital and necessary organs from the porter's body. "Go." After the door closed again, Mr. Hamlin lay silen, for an hour. At the end of that time he got up and began to dress liim.se If slowly, singing softly to himself the while, as was his invariable custom, in that sweet tenor for which he was famous. When he had thus warbled through his toilet, replacing a small ivory-handled pistol in his waistcoat pocket to one of his mos«^^ heart-breaking notes, he put his hat on his handsome head, perhaps a trifle more on one side than usual, and stepped into the hall. As he sharply .shut his door and locked it, the slight concussion of the thin partitions caused the door of his fair neighbor's room to start ajar, and Mr. Hamlin, looking up nechanically, saw the lady standing by the bureau with her handkerchief to her eyes. Mr. Hamlin instantlv stoj)ped his warbling, and walked gravely down-stairs. At the foot of the steps he met the porter. The man touched his hat. " He doesn't belong here, sir." " Who doesn't belong here?" askeil Mr. Hamlin, coldly. "That man." "What man?" "The man you asked about." Mr. Hamlin (juietly took out a ciL^nr. lit it. and, after one c; J wo pufls, looked fixedly in the mans eye, and said: t'roin ll r.ikc H MRS. MARKl.F. 71 " I Ii.ivcn't nsked vou about any tnan." " 1 thoii.uht. sir " ^(m shouldn't bo,Li;in to drink so early m tiio day, Mirh.icl," said Mr. Hamlin, <|uictly, without withdrawing his blatk eyes troin the man's face. " Vou can t stand it on an empty stomach. r,\kc mv advice and wa't till alicr dinner." chai'ihr xti. MRS. MARKLK. IV: '■■.ri . . , ()i rv's rJliision to Mrs. Markle and her criticism h«id recur- red to (lai)riel more or less uneasily through the night, and as he rose betimes the next morning and stood by the table on which lay his handiwork, a grim doubt of his proficiency in tha branch of doi.iestic economy began to oppress him. '• Like as not. 1 ain't doin' my duty to that child," he said •softly to himself, as he jiicked up the garments one by one, and deposited them beside the bedside of the still sleejiing Oily. '* 'i'hem clothes are — leavin' out the stren'th and sayin' nothin' o' dural)ility as material- a trifle old-fashioned and on- hccomin'. Not as you requires anything o' the kind, bless your ])(>oty face," he said, ajioslrophi/.ing the dewy curls and sluinber-tlushe i cheeks of the unconscious child ; '* but mebbe it does sorter provoke remarks from the other children. And the settlements' gettin' crowded. Three new families in six months is rather too — too — " considered (iabriol, hesitating for a word; "rather too ])o{)ylating ! And, Mrs. Markle" — (labriel Hushed even in the stillness and solitufle of his own cabin —"to think of that little gal, not nine years old, si)eakin' o' that widder in that way. It beats everything. And to think r\c kept clar of that sort o' thing jest mi Olly's account, jest thai she shouldn't have any woman around to boss her." Nevertheless, when he and Oily sat down to their frugal 'neakfast, he was uneasily conscious ol several oddities of her L. •. « ^» •t Tl' (lAllRll- I. COVRON-. 1 1! ■■ ^ . I' dross, FiDt before nolic cable, .uui even some ])e( iiliarltic manner. "P>. a i^n'neral thin^;. Oily."" he pointi-d out with cautious i,^oneraH/,ation, •' ez a ijineral thinj^. in perlite society, yoiiri},' [;als don't sit down a-straddle of tl)eir < hairs, and don't reach down every five minnits to hea\e away at their hoot-straps." " As a general thin^, (;al)e, girl's doni wear hoots," said Oily, leaning forward to di]> her hiead in the frying-pan. Artfully evading the tiuestion whether high India-i bher hoots \\\.:c an indei)ensil)le feature of a girls clothing, Gabriel continued with easy indifference : " I think I 11 dro)) in on .Mrs. Markle on my way to 'lu Gulch this morning." He glanced under his eyelids at as much of his sister's face as was visible behind the slice of l)read she was consuming. "Take me with you, (iabe?" "No," said Gabriel, "you must stay here and do up the house; and. mind you keep out o' the woods until your work's done. Jiesides," he added, loftily, " I've got some business with Mrs. Markle." "Oh, Gabe !" s.ud Oily, shining all over her face with gravy and archness. " I'd like to know what's the matter with you. Oily," said Gabriel, with dignified composure. " .\in'l you ashamed, Gabe?" Gabriel did not stop to reply, but rose, gathered up his tools and took his hat from the corner. Me walked to the door, hut suddenly turned a A came back to Oily. '• Oily," he said, taking her face in both hands, after his old fashion. " T-'.f inyihing at any lime sh«)uld hap])en >o me, I want yc to think, niy darling, ez 1 always did my best for you, Oily. for you. W'otever I did was always for the best." Oily thought Instantly of the river. " You ain't goin' into oeep water to-day, Gabe, are you?" she asked, with a slight premonitory cjuiver of her short ui)i)er hp. " Pooty deej) lor me, Oll\ : nut.' he added hastily, widi ;. glance at her alarmed face, *' don't you mind, I'll come out all safe, (jood-bye." .». MRS. MARKLK v;^ it . IK; kissed her tenderly. She ran her fmpiers through hi^ >,indv curls, deftly smoothed his benrd, and reknotted his nc< kerchief. " Vou oughter hev put on your other shirt, ria')e ; that ain't (k;m: and vou a' goin" lo .Mrs. Markle's ! let nu' get. yr)ur str.r.v hat. (lahe. Wait."' She ran in behind the screen, l)ut when slie returned, he was gone. It had been raining the niglit before, but on the earth i)e- neath tnere was a dewy freshness, and in the sky above, the lie:uity of cloud scenery -a beautt rare to ralifornia except (liiriuu the rainy season, (labriel, ;*lthougii not usually affected l)v meteorological influences, nor peculiarly susc epcible to the charms of Nature, felt that the morning wa<; a fuie one. and was tor that reason. 1 iu'^agine. more than usually accessible to the blandishments of the fair. I-'roin acbiiiring a tree, a llower, or a gleam of sunshine, to the entertainmeiU of a dangerous seiitimentalis .i in regard to the other sex, is, 1 tear, but a facile step to some natures, whose only safety is iii continuous pra( ti- caht\. Wherefore, (labriel. as he appnxached the cottage of Abs. Markle, was induced to look from Nature u]) to- Nature's goddess-Mrs. Markle, as her strong. Iiright face ajjjjeared above the dishes she was washing by the kitchen window. .\n(l here occurred one of those fenu'nine inconsistencies that are charming to the average man, but are o( casionly inefti- (ient with an excei)tional character. Mrs. Maikle, who had always been exceedinijlv genial, gentle and natural with Oabriel (hiring his shyness, seeing him coming with a certain fell intent jOt ( !ieerfulness in his face, instantly assumed an aggressive in inner, which, for the sake of its probable warning to the rest lot her sex. I venture to transcribe. " l.t you want to see me. Ciabriel Conroy," said Mrs. Markle, I stop] ling to wijje the suds from her brown, but handsomel)- [shapul arms, ''you must come up to the sink, for I ( an't leave |the dishes. Joe Markle always used to say to me, 'Sue, when |\'ni'\e got work lo do. you don't let \our mind wander 'round jiiiiu h on anything else.' Sal. bring a cheer here for (iabricl — [lie (Ion t come often enough to stand up f(>r a change. We're h.^'fl. working women, you and me, Sal. and we don't get time to i .1 ■ .» ■ I ■' > . 74 (.AIJKIKI, (ONKfA'. he sick— and sick folks is about the only kind as Mr. ('(uiroi cares to see." 'I'horouijfhly astonished as (lal)ricl was with th^ sarcastic re ce])tion, there was still a certain relief that it brought to him "Oily was wrong," he said to himself, " that woman only tliinb of washin' dishes, and lof)kiiv after her boarders. Ef she wi> alius like this — and would leave a man alone, never foolin around him. but kinder standin' off and tendin' strictly to the business of the house, wliy it wouldn't be sucli a bad thin^i. marry her. Dut like as not she'd ch;mge- you can't trust tlkii, critters. Ilowsomeever 1 can set Olly's mind at rest." Happily unconscious of the heresies that were being enter' tained by the silent man before her, Mrs. Markle brisklv Km- tinned her washing and her monologue, occasionally si)rinkliii; (iabriel with the overllow of ea( h. " When J say hard workin' women, Sal," said Mrs. Markle, siii; addressing a gaunt female companion, whose sole functions were confined to chuckling at Gabriel over the dishes she waswipinki, and standing with her back to ber mistress — " When I say hard' workin' women. Sal, i don't forget ez they are men e/ cajiahlc of doin' all that and more — men ez looks down on you and me, Here Mistress Markle broke a plate, and then, after a pause, sighed, faced around with a little color in her cheek and a sharf snap in her black eyes, and declared that she was "' that narvoii^ this morning that she couldn't go on. There was an embarrassing silence. Luckily for Gabriel, a; this moment the gaunt Sal i)icked up the dropi)ed thread o: conversation, and with her back to her mistress, and profound^ ignoring his presence, addressed herself to the wall. '• Narvous you well may be, Susan, and you slavin' for h)nv l)oarders, with transitory meals for travelers, and nobody to hei: you. If you was flat on your back with rheumatiz, ez you \it. might be, perhajjs you might get a hand. A death in the faniiii might be of sarvice to you in callin' round your fric^ids i couldn't otherwise leave their business. That cough that litt;; Mant}' had onto her for the last five weeks would frighten soiw mothers into a narvous consumption." Gabriel at that moment had a vivid and guiltv recollection li noticing Maniv .Markle wadin;.; in rlic dilch below the lioiiseaij MRS. MXkKr.K <:> Mng enter riskly ((nil sprinkliii; larkle, sill: :tions wlfc vas wipint I say hard- e/ ca|)ahlc| u and nie. r a pause. I nd a sharfl It nar\ oiii Gabriel, a: I thread o:j )rot\>undi;J i' for k)nv )d\ It) hci'.l jz you wei the taniiil fri gills that litticl Iprcpi'stLroiis and indcll'iisiblc on all moral grounds now, that he l)euan to feci himself in the light of an impostor, and was Ir. ( 'Oiinn^Jj^^ ^.pt^^ixd, ^md of havinj^^ observed her with the interest of D(>ssil)le paternal relationship, 'riial relationship seuiied so ircastir re^^^ lit to him •nly thinks Kf she wa-l VGV foolin ctly to thcl id tiling ! trust tlkii pn ina jDoriionallv embarrassec 1. Hi s (ontiiNion was slu)wn m a liner peruliarly characteristic of himself. Drawint; a small INK ket comb from hi.-, pocket, he began combini;' out his sandy Iciirls. softly, with a jierplexed smile on his face. The widow had often noticed this action, divined its cause, and accepted it las a tribute. Sh e l)e/an to relent. Uv some occult feminine |syni|iathy. this relenting; was indi( ated by the other woman. Nou're out of sorts this mornin_L,^ Susan, and if ye'll take a fbors advice, ye'll jest (juit work, and make yerself comfortable in the s.ilin'-room, and kinder pass the time o' day with (labriel; joiiles> he"s after waitin' to pire. iation ; " let it alone, will you, you Sal ! 'I'har ! 1 told ni iw vou've done it. de[ I you. And she had. 'I'he infamous Sal, by some deft trick well Iknown to her deceittid sex, had suddenly tumbled the whole weahli of Mrs Markle's black mane o\cr her i)hiinp ^hcjulders. Mrs. .\larkle, with a laugh, would have tlown to the chaste rc(e;>ses of thesitting-r(H)m ; but Sal. like a true artist, restrained her. until the full effect of this poetic picture should be im- ) pressed upon the unsus[)ecting (lal)riers memory. Mop. indeed," said Sal. " It's well that many folks is ol Inianv minds, and self praise is open disgrace ; but when a man [hten soiiie^l like Lawyer Maxwell sez to me only yesterday, sittin' at thi.s ^^^ Very table, lookin' kinder up at you, Sue, as you was [)assin' )llectioni';|Bs(.ui). unconscious like, and o' them braids droppin' down, and le Iioiiseii^Bj^^si luissin' the plate, wii-'ii Law\er Ma.\well sez to me, ' Sal, V: '». * A'* [fi (lAIlKIKI, (ON-|Mi\. :r ... 4 y afiiu.' l.'uly in I'lisco. v/. would would {^ivc her ]<\\,. tliar's man to hcv Susan Markle's hair But here Sal was intcnunlcd by llu.; l)ashrnl osca])t' ot" .Mr Markle to the siltinj; room. '* Ve don't kniu> up this way, Clabr'l, do \ ? ' said Sal, resumini; lur work. No," said Hie v.c the artful dmi of m sugij;estiveness of .\Ti (iahnel. ha] iiily as ohliviou ing >(ii on as he had been i.le's hiiii', the el'dli: Jk'eause he (/('(^x kinder ^ . s here more fre(iuent than he used, and hez taken e/ menny ez five meals in one day. J de- clare, J thought that was him when you kern jest now ! 1 ikm't think thet Sue notices it, n<>l keerinj.^ nnu h for that kind oi build in a man.'' ( ontinued Sal, glam ing at (jabriel's |)assi\i.'lv powerful shoukU'rs. and the jjhu -d strength of liis long ]\\\\\>\ " Mow do you think Sue's looking now--e/ a friend intere^lui in the family - diow does .^he look to you ?" (labriel hastened to assure Sal of the healthful a])|)carance of Mrs. Markle, but only extracted from his gaunt i omjJaniuD a long sigh and a shake of the head. ''It's deceitful, (iabriel ! No one knows what that lumr critter ;i:oes throu'di. iler mind'.s kinder onsettled o' late in that onsettled state, she bleaks tliint You see her 1 ,111(1, IK., k that plate jest now ? Well, perhaps I oughtni to say it- you being a friend and in conhdence, for she'd kill me, bei nu l)rou(l kind o n ater. suthin' like mv < )wn. an( 1 it m ay nci amount to nothin' arter all but 1 kin always tell when you'vi been around by the breakages. \':)u was here, lets see. \h week afore last, and there wasn't cups enough left to go riMiiii that night for sui)j)er M iv De It s ( h ills," said tiie horror stricken Gabriel, In* wor.st fears realized, rising fn^m his chair; "I've got snim. Indian cholagogue over tt) the cabin, and I'll jest run over ,inc. get it. or send it back." Intent only upon retreat, he would li,i\ shamelessly llown : but Sal intercejjted him with a face o! mvsterious awe. * " l^f she slKHild kem in here and find you gone, (labriJ. in that weak state of hers- na'vou', vou may tall it, but so it i-- l wouldn't be answerable tor tli.ii poor ( rjtier's hfe. El >h *. . ♦ \IK \ \KKI !■. ( < siidiild tr ik yoti'd iionc artcr wli.it i^ li.ijtponcd, .nicr wliai has passcii In wi'cn you iiid her to-chiy, it \vn',,id jc>t kill her."' hat IS passed ^ai lahriel. in vairuc alatm. Ii ;i t tor iiu'. sail I the d ( L-aunt ^al loftih i(» pass my ijii/iii ii "II oilu T toll "s ' nduct, or to let on what this nivans, ir wli.i' ihet means, or lo give mv sas about people (alHn' on (itiicr WlIK rd |H() )U md I )1 )ro! atore toiks. when a woman i . « It am't lor me l o i;et up >'.n(l say that. I jr so little out of sorts, and a man is so tar u'one e/ lie allows to rush off like a madinan to ,get her medif you and Sal ain't done private matters yet I'll I don't think ez (labriel hez anything more to say thet you 1 Sal, strongly im[)lying a shouldn't hear, Mrs. Mnrkle," -^aii recent ennfidential disclosure iVom (iabriel. ('■abriel alone prevented her from givins. " to hear i onfidence in matters of the feelin's. which dehcacy to lUil it ain't for me It is difficult to sav whether Mrs. Markle's arclmess, or Sal's wnfiil j)ersi)icuity, w \\t iild have flown. as most alarming to (labriel. lie rose ; he e\en with the terrible (intinuencv of Mr.s. Mirkle's hy.sterics before his eyes ; he would ha\e faced even that ton il)le ojjposition from Sal of whii h he iuily believed her eainin le. but that a dreadful suspicion that he was already hope- le^isl) MU'olved. that something would \et transpire that would i' ;. I < I ■» *: ■• 7S «;\I'.I>iis|)ici()usly. and nski'd : '• What did slio say ?" "She said." rcplii'd (ialu- slowly, "tlie-t her lieart w.is — • ivcii -to another. I think slie struck into poetry, and said; •* My lunrt it is niiotlui s. And it iicviT cm lu; tliino." I'het is, I think so. T disreinemher her special remark, (^lly; 'lilt vou know women allers spoilt poetry at se< h times. Knny- Vnv, that's about the wav the thinu; panned out." \VIi o was It r sai d Oil V siKUle nlv, "She (hdn't let on who," said (lahriei uneasily. " I didn't think it the stjiiare thini; to incpiire.'' •• Well," said Oily. (iahriel looked down still more emk.rrasscd, and .shitted his position. "Well," he repeated. " W hat did vou say ?" said (Jlly. '• Ihen?" " .Vo, afore. How did you doit, Gabc?" said Oily, com- lortahly fixing her chin iu her hands, and looking up in her brother's face. ** Oh, the usual wav!" said (labriel, with a motion of his pipe, to indicate vague and glittering generalities of courtship. " Hut how? (lahe, tell me all about it." '' Well," said (labriel. looking iij) at the roof, '* wimen is itashful ez a general thing, and thars about onlv one wav ez a man can get at 'em, and that ez, by being kinder keerless and hold. Ye sec. Oily, when I keni inter the liouse, I sorter jest (hiickled Sal under the chin thet way, you know and then le fue re ^| ^^'-'"^ "P '^''' 'v I. 'ii a^clv. with a vi« kmis sli.ikr ol Ik i link' li->t. " Atid iu>i ;. think, only todiiy wc giw Ikt Iki pick o' thiin [tups I' " Hiisli. Oily, ye imisurt do .muhin' o' the sort," said (i.il. rit'l hastily. " V'c must ikvct let on to any one anything. \\s (• .1 l)elter man nor me, and < ould sliake a thousand dollars in ilk f;\ce of any woman. Why, bless \our eyes, Oily, some nan jest likes it -it's excitement- like ]iersj)ectin'." " But what did you say. (lalie?"' said Oily, returning with fresh curiosity to the < entral fa( t, and ignoring the I*leasure> (/i Rejection as expounded by (labriel. "Well, I just uj) and se/ this : Susan Markle, se/ I. the vn^c is just this. Here's Oily and me up there on the hill, and jtr. you and Manty down yer oi\ the Oulch, and mcnmtains wild and valleys deep two loving hearts do now divide, and there's no reason why it shouldn't be one t'amily and one house, and that family and that house mine. .\nd it's for you to say when. And then 1 kinder slung in a little more poetry, an(l sorter fooled around with that ring," said (labriel, showing a he.-^w plain gold ring on his jjowerful liitletinger, " and jest kissed her agin and chucked Sal under the < hin, and that'.s all." " And she wouldn't hev ye, Clabe," saui Oily thoughtfully, "after all that? Well, who' wants her to? 1 don't." " I'm glad to hear you say lb it, Oily," said (labriel. '* but ye mustn't let on a word of it to her. She talks o' coming \i\' on the hill to build, and wants to buy that part of the old claim where 1 perspected last summer, so's to be near us and look arter you. And Oily," continued Gabriel gravely, '* ef she comes round yer foolin' around me ez she used to do, yo mustn't mind that— it's women's ways." " I'd like to ketch her at it !" said Oily. (labriel looked at Oily with a guilty satisfaction, and drew her toward him. '•And now that it's all over, 011y,"said he, '• it's all the beiu.r MRS. MXKKI.r HI IV I I is. Wni and iiu-'ll i;i'l .ilnnju' to^ctluT v/ (•<)U\\\n\;\\)\v o/ kni. >tlU I talked with Nomr of tlic 1m)v>. llu* oiIkt tl.iy alioul lin' lor a s( hooliiiarm lioiii .Maivs\ illc. and .Mrs. M.irklc thinks It's a good idee. And you'll go to m hool. Oily. I'll mil lip to Mar\svilK' next week andgel y«)ii some better (lollies. .111.1 u( "11 he just e/ h.ippy c/ ever. .\m\ then some day, Oily, ;il.)re y»>u know it tlum things come always suddenl I'll jest iiKikc a strike outer that ledge, and we'll he ri( h. 'I'har's IK y in that ledge, Oily, I've alius allowed that. And then we'll go — you and me -to San Francisco, .and we'll hev a hig house, and I'll jest invite a lot of littli- girls the best they is in Iiixo. to |)lay with you, and you'll hev all the teachers yc w.iiu, and women ez will he glad to lo(»k arter yc. And then innvhe 1 might make it up with Mrs. Markle — "' III) )U Never said ( )!I\, passionately " Never it is I" said the artful (l.ihrie), with a glow of jdeasure in his eye>, antl a slight stirring of remorse in his hreast. " lUit it'.s tune that small gals like you was abed." 'I'hus admonished. Oily retired behind the screen, taking the solitary (andle, and leaving her brother smoking his i)ij)e by the light of the slowly dying fire. lUit Oily did not go to sleej), .itul !ialf an hour later, jteering out of the screen, she saw her brother .still sitting by the fire, his pipe extinguished, and his head resting on his hand. She went up to him so .softly that she startled him. shaking a drop ol water on the hand that she suddenly threw rounil his reck. '• Vou ain't worrying aboitt that woman, (iabe?" "No." said (iahriel, with a laugh. Oily looked down at her hand. Gabriel looked up at the roof. There's a leak tb r that's got to be stopi)ed tg-murrow. do icd, Oily, or you'll iake your death." I A 'W (.,AliKIi:i. C UNRDY. ClIAPTKR XIII. IN WHICH IIIH ARiiri, (;.\i;kii,i, is discuvkked. \i i. •f ... No'i'Wi I HSTANoixc, his assumed case and a certain relict", which was real, (kibrie! was tar Irom beini,^ satisfied with the result of his visit to Mrs. Markle. Whatever may have actualK <«•( urred, not known to the reader exce()t through (iabriel's own disclosure to Ully, Gabriel's manner hardly bore out the boldnes.- and conclusiveness of his statement. For a day or two afterward, he resented any allusion to the subject from Oily, but on .he third day he held a conversation with one of the K'.;reka IJar miners, which seemed to bear some remote relerenc • to his experience. *' Thar's a good deal said lately in the papers," began Gabriel, cautiously, " in regard to breach o' i)romise trials. Lookin' at it, by and large, thar don't seem to be much show for a feller ez he/- been in ennyways kind to a gal, is thar ? " The person addressed v. hom rumor declared to have sought One Horse (rulch as a place of refuge tVom his wife, remarked witli an oath that women weio blank fools anyway, and that on general principles they weie not to be trusted. " Hut ihar must be a kind o' ginral law on the subject," urged Ciabriel. "Now what would be your opinion if you was on a jurv onto a case like this? It hapi)ened to a friend o' mine in Frisco," said Gabriel with a marked i)arenthesis, "a man ez yi)U don't know. Thar was a woman we'll say a widder — e/. had been kinder hangin' round him off and on for two or three year, and he hadn't allowed anything to her about marrvin'. One day he goes down thar to her house, kinder easy-like, jest to pass the time o' day, and be sociable " '* That's bad," interrupted the cyni(\ '' Yes," said Gabriel, doubtingly, " p'r'aps it doe^^ look bad, Itut yju see it didn't mean an.ythin'." "Weil ?" said the adviser "Well! thet's all," :.aid Gabriel. '■ . • IN WIIFCH rilF MM I'll. <-, MiKIKI. Is DlSCoVKKKIV S3 ■■/ • Ml ! " excliiimcd Iiis coinimni'in indi^nnntlv. ■ \'es, all. Now this woman kinder allows >,hc'\\ lnin;; a suit .1 -in iiini to make him many her."' ■• Mv opinion is," saitl the adviser, bluntly, "'my opinion is thai the man was a fool, and didn't tell ye the truth, niithei, and I'd give damages agin him. tor being sue h a fool." rhi> opinion was so crushing to (iabriel that he turned hopeK .^sly away. Nevertheles.i, in his present state of mind. he ( ould not retrain from pushing his imiuiries further, and in a general conversation which took place at Hrigg's store in the atiornoon, among a grouj) of smokers, dabriel arttully inlroduccd the subject of courtshij) and marriage. " Thar's different ways of gerting at the feelins of a woman," said the the oracular Johnson, after a graj)hic statement of his own method of ensnaring the affections of a former sweetheart, " thar's different wavs jest as thar's diiTjrent men and women in the world. One man's way won't do with some wimmen. but thar's one way ez is [)retty sure to fetch 'em allers. That IS, to play off indifferent- to never let on ye like 'em ! To kinder look arter them in a gin'ral sort o' way, pretty nuich as (i.ilie thar looks arter the sick ! — but not to say anythin' pnrticler. To make them understand that they've got to do all t!ie courtin', ef thar's enny to be done. What's the matter, (iahe. ye ain't goin' ? " (Iabriel, who had risen in great uneasiness, muttered some- thing about "its being dme to go home," and then sat down auain. looking at Johnson in feartul fas( ination. '■That kind o' thing is pretty sure to fetch almost enny vvDinan." continued Johnson, ''and a man ez does it orter be looked arter. It orter be put down l)y law. It's tamperin'. • ion't ver see. witii the holiest affections. Si( h a nan orter to liL s]>otted wiiar'ever found."' " But mebbe the man don't mean anythin' nubbe it's jest hi> wav.'' suggested dabriel ruefully, looking around in the f.K es of the party, "mebbe he don't take to wimmen and marriage nat'ral, and it's jest His way." "Wav be blowed 1 " said the irate Johnson, scornt'ullv. " Ketch him. indeed ! It's just the artt'ullest kind o' artlulness. b's jesi beggiiig on a full hand," .-.s •'. > 81 <;.\I'.KII 1, CONKOY. .1) , " ri' '■ «*i'i'. ■■■.J if! .i- (lahricl ruse slowly, .in<1, roisiini; nnv t"urt]icr atteni]ils :<' detain hiin. walked to the cl(jor, and, after a remark on ilu threalenini^ nature of the weather, delivered in a manner caculated to impress his audience with his general indifference to the subject then under discussion, melted deie( Icdlv awav int(j the driving rain that had all day swept over One Horse (lulch, and converted its one na'Tow street into a ditch ot turbulent yellow water. " Thet (labe seems to be out o' sorts to-day," said Johnson. "I heerd Lawyer Maxwell asking arter hiu] this mornin': I reckon thar's suthin' up! (labe ain't a bad son o' chap. Hezen't got any too much S(il>e about him, but lies mightv good at looking arter sick folks, and thet kind o' man's a power o' use in this camp. Hope thar ain't anything e/ will interfere with his sphere o' usefulness," " AFay be a woman scra])e." suggested !>riggs. " He seemed sort o' bound u|) in what you was saying abcnit women jest now. Thar is folks round yer," said Hriggs, (lro]»ping his voice and looking about him, '' ez believes that that yer ( )lly, which he lets on to be his sister, to be actooally his own child. No man would tote round a child like that, and jest bind himself up in her, and give up wimmen, and whisky, and keerds, and kemi)eny, ef it wasn't lis own. 'i'het ain't like brothers in mv part i)( the country." " It's a mighty queer story he tells, ennyways all this yer stuff about Starvation Camp and escapin','"' suggested another. "I never did, somehow, take enny stock in that." "Well, It's his own lookout," concluded Johnson. "It's nothin' to me. .Kf I've been enny servi( e t(j h'wn [)intin' out sick i)eo[)le, and kinder makin' suggestions here and thar, how he should look arter them, he's welcome to it. I don't go back on my record, if he hez got into trouble." "And J'm sure," said Ihiggs, '• if 1 did allow l.iin to come in here and look arter thet sick Me.\ican, it ain't for me to be ex- pected to look arter his muril character too.'' lint here the entrance of a customer put a stop to further criticism. Meanwhile the unfortunate subject of this discussion, by rlinging close to the walls of houses, had avoidcA the keen blast that descended from the mountain, and had at last Ve. (he .'11 the lil. It t \\ uki( rei eiw se ;iae( \vi(l(»w| { ' in pel a visit 1 wi(l()v\| ^\ rtrar al eng t (1 ,l'n( h I!. *. . IN WHICH IIII' AKITUI, CAIiKIl I. IS DISCf (VKUKH. 85 n.ii lud ihc linU' trail that led tlir( iii^li tlic ^'iilrli to his (■^])\n ,111 the opitositL' hillside. I Utc (iahrici hesitated. To follow liijt trail would lead him past the i)oadini;-house of Mrs. M.irkle. In the light of the haleful counsel he iiad just iifciwd. to place himself so soon again in the way of tlanger >L'i,i'aed to him to be only a provocation of fate. 'I'iiat the vidow and Sal might swoop down uj)on him as he i)asscd, and ( "inpel him to enter ; that the si)t.'cta«.le of his passing without a visit might superinduce instant hysterics on the })art of the wkIdu. ai)])eared to his terror-stricken fancy as almost a t ritr.intv. The only other wav home was l>y a circuitous road along the ridge oi the hill, at least three mik's further, (iahriel (lid not hesitate long, but hegan oromptly to ascend the hill. I'his was no easy task in the face of a strong gale and torrents ;)f hratiug rain, hut the overtiming of i)hysical difficulties by the exercise of his all-con(|uering muscles, and the fact that he w.is doing something, relieveil his mind of its absurd terrors. When he had reached the summit he noticed for the llrst time the full power oi those subtle agencies that had \)ccn silently at UMik during the last week's steady rain. A thin trickling mountain rill where he l;ad two weeks ])efore slacked his thirst during a ramble with Ollv. was now transformed into a roaring (.uarait: the brook that thev had leai)ed across was now a >w(illen river. There were slowly widening ])Ools in the vallevs. darklv glancing sheets ot water on the distant |)!ai;i^, and a monotonous rush and gui^le always in the air. It was half an b.nur later, and two miles lurther on his rough road, that he came in view (jf the narrow ])recii)itous gorge tliroM-h which the W'ingdam stage ])assc*l on its way from Marysville. As he a|»|)roa( bed nearer he could see that the liitle moiitain stream whit h ran beside the staui' road had alread\ slightly encroached upon the road-bed. and that heri' and tiiere the stage road iiself was lost in drifts of standing water. '"it v.ill be prelt\" rough dri\iu'u]) that canon." said (^.iiiriel to himsell a> he thought ot the mcoming Wingdam >iage. .^ow nearlv i\u>j : *' migluy onjjleasant and riskv with narvous leaders, but thar'^ worse things thcUi that in this M-r World," he meditated, as his mind rt-verted again to Nils f. '■ ■'. f . 86 (lAHRIKL CONROY. -..( . Marklc, "and cf f could ( hange plaics with N'liba Hill, and get on that box and Oily inside - I'd ({("< it I " But just tliei) the reservoir of the W'uigdam ditch came in view on the hill beside him. and with it a revelation that in ;i twinkling displaced Mrs. Markle, and seemed almost to chanue the man's entire nature ! What was it? Appar ntly noihini; to the eye of the ordinary traveler, 'I'he dam was full, and through a cutoff" the overplus was escaping with a roar Nothing more? Ws— t/>i- bank of the dam, the water was slowlv oo/ing and trickling thnaigh a slowlv widening crevi( e, over tlu- rocks above the gorge and stage road below ! 'J'he wall of the dam was giving away ! To tear off coat and all imi)eding garments, to leap from rock to rock, and bowlder to bowlder, hanging on by slip])erv (/ii//ii\sa/ and the decayed roots of trees ; to rt,'ach at the risk of lite and limb the cafion Inflow, and then to run at the highesi s|)eed to w;irn the incoming stage of the danger before it should enter the narrow gorge, was only the resolve and action of a brave man. Hut to do this without the smallest waste of strength that ought to l)e preserved, to do this with the greatest economy oi force, to do this with the agility and skill of ;i nu)untaineer, and the reserved power of a giant; to do this with a will so simple, direct, and unhesitating, that the action a[)peare(l to have l)een planned and rehearsed days before, instead of being the resolution of the instant, — this belonged to (Jabriel (^onroy ! And to have seen him settle into a Ioitj, swinging trot, and to have observed his calm, grave, earnesi, but unexcited lace, and quiet, steadfast eye, you would have believed him some healthy giant sinijily exercising himself. He had not gone hah a mile before hi . (juick ear caught a dull sound and roar of advancing water. Vet even then he only sligluly increased his stead^; stride, as if he had been qui lened aiul followed by his iv.iiner lailier than l)y ap])roach ing l;\..;r;i. At the same moment there was a quick tattle and (latter ii. ;. j road ahead — a halt, and turning back, for (labriel's wa^ninr sh<»iii lvi(i run before !iim like a bullet. lUit it was too la.e. I 1 : y-iviW':, .wAw bvi.md hint struck In u and liore him IN WllK II IIII' AIMIII. <;AI'.K!!! Is I >I -( i i\ | k | | >. 8< down, and the lU'Xt instant. s\\(.'|)i llii- ( (ku 1i and liorsr^ a con tn>cd. struggling, black mass, against the '-ocky walls of llu canon. And then it was that the immense reserved strength ol (labriel came into l>lay. Set upon l>y the aluKjsl irresistible volume of water, he did not waste his power in useless opj)osi tioii. but allowed himself to be carried hither and thither until he touched a bran( h of chimisal tluit depended from the canon side. Seizing it with one sudden and mighty effort, he raised hi:i)sv'lf above the sweepand suction of the boiling tlood. The CO 'h was gone ; where it had stood a tew blac k tigures struggled, swided. and (in led. One oi them was a woman, in an in stant (labriel i)lunged into the yellow water. A few sir(,)kes brought him to her side ; in another moment he had encircled her waist with his j-owerful arm and lifted her head above fhe surface, when he was seized by two de.sj)airing arms Irom the other side. Ciabriel did not shake them off. "Take hold >)\' lire lower down and I'll helj) ye both," he shouted, as he stru( k out with his only tree arm tor the chimisal. He reac heu it ; drew himself up so that he cculd gr:LSp it with his teeth, and then, hanging on by his jaw, raised his two clinging companions beside him. 'i hey had barely grasj^ed it, when another omin- ous roar was heard below, and another \vall of yellow vv.iier swept swiftly up the Cdfion. The chimi.sal began to yield to their weight, (labriel dug his fmgers into the soil alxuit its n)Ots, clutched the jagged edges of a rock beneath, and threw his arm about t!ie woman, pressing her closely to the fac t )f the wall. As the wave swept over them, there was a sud< n despairing cry. a sj)k:sh, and the man was gone. Only (ia' el and the woman remained. They were safe, but for the monient only, (iabriel'- 'eft hand, gras])ing an insecure projectic^n, wa.^ all that susiaiied their united weight. Gabriel, lor the first time, lookec' down ujHjn the woman. Then he .said, hesitatingly : '* Kin ye hold yourself a minnit ?" "Yes."' F.ven at that critical moment some occ ult (jualitv of sweet- ne.ss in her voice thrilled hii.i. "Lock your haiulh ti;L;eiiier hard, and sling "cni o\i r na neck." 1 ■ I ;• >«: '>' • • ■ ( , I. 88 (lADKIKl, CONROV, M-"?' m ■■■■|. ; .' 'i». She (lid so. (inhiiel freed his n^^hl hand. lie S( arcely felt the wei.i^ht thus suddenly thrown iij)f)n his shoulders, hut cautiously ^^roped for a projection on the ro( k above. He found it, raised himself by a supreme effort, until he se< ured a loothold in the hole left by the u])roote(l ehimisal bush. ller>, he paused. " Km ve hanu on a minnit louuer?" " do on.'' she s.iid. dabriel went on. lie found another projection, and another, and i^radually at last reached a ledue a foot wide, near the top of the cliff. Here he paused. Il was the woman's turn to .speak. "Can you clinili to the top?" she asked. " Yes- if you " "Co on,'' she said, simi)lv. (jabriel (ontinued the ascent cautiously. In a few moments he had reached the top. Here her hands suddenly relaxed their s^rasj) ; she would have slipped to thi- u;rouuil had not Gabriel cauL,Oit hef by the waist, lifted her in his arms, ixud borne her to a spot where a fallen ))inL»-tree had ( ar|)eted and cushioned the dam|) groimd with its withered tassels. Here he laid her down with that e\(|uisite delicacv and tenderness of touch which was so habitual to him in his treatment of all help- lessness as to be almost imconscious. lUit she thanked him, with such a graceful revelation of small white teeth, and such a singular look out ot her dark gray eyes, that he could not help looking at her again. She was a small, light-haired woman, tastefully and neatl\- dressed, and of a type arid class unknown to him. lUit for her smile, he would not have thought her l)ietty. lUit even with that smile on her face, she pre.sently ])aled and fainted. At the same moiueiu (labriel he;ir(l the sound of voices, and. looking iij). saw two of the passengers, who hatl evideiitls escaped by climbing the cliff, con.ing toward them. And then — I kncAv not liow to tell it — but a sudden and awe-inspiring sense of his ambiguous and j)e(-uliar situation took possessi«jn of him. What would thev think of it? Would thev believe his statement? A sickeninu recollection o* the late conversa tioii at Briggs'.s returned to him ; the indignant faces of tl .SIMI'I K I I \ VI K:.l S S \(;AC I I V. 80 •'I nniint Snl and the j)Iiinii) Mrs. Marklo were before him; even the (I'lestioning eye-^ ot !ittk ( )1I\' seemed to picn e his iiiiiuist soul, and, alas! this hero, tlic vietoriuus giant, turned anaernal app>earance. Not to s[x'ak alone of an imusual cleanliness of face and hands, and a certain attemj-'t at (onhn- iiil; her yellow curls with a vivid pink ribbon, there was an un- wonted neatness in her attire, and some essay at adornment in .1 faded thread-lace collar which she had foimd among her mother's "things" in the family bag, and a i)urple neck-ribbon. " It seems to me," said the delighted Gabriel, ''that some hody else he/, been dressin' up and making a toylit, sence I've been away. Mev you been in the (lit( hes, agin, 011\ ?"' " No," said Oily with some dignity of manner, as she busied herself in setting the table for supper. "But I reckon T never seen ye look so jteart atore, Oily; who's been here?" he added, with a sudden alarm. "Nobody," said Oily ; 'I recken some folks kin get along :ind look decent without the helj,< ot other folks, leastways (>■ Susan Markle." ■ ,1 -. ' » l' >. ■ » ^^' i; •1.; i 1 90 f,\llKIII, C iN'Hi»V At this barlud .iiica (l.iluiel wiiK ccl s]iL;Iilly. "See ycr. Oil}," said (lahricl, " vc imisn't talk tlict v iv alnnit tlu't wniiiaii. N'ourr only a ( hik- and ci your brotbi did let on to yc, in ( onridcnc c, ccrtini^r things ox, a brother ni,i\ say to his sister, ye oiiLjIUn't say anvthin' about it." *' Say anylhin' !"' echoed Oily, scorntully ; " do you think Id ever let on to thet woman ennyihiiiLi? Ketch me !"' ( labriel looked at his sister ni awful admiration, and fell ,ii the depths of his lonscience stricken and self-dejjrec iatoi\ nature that he didn t deserve so brave a little defender. I'dr i moment he resohevi to tell her the truth, but a fear of Olh n scorn and a desire to bask in the sunshine of her active syiu- path)' withheld him. " Hesitles," he added to himself, in a single flash of self-satisfaction, "this yer thin^ may be tlic makin' o' thet gal yet. Look at thet collar, (iabriel! look .ii thet hair, (iabriel! all your truth-tellin' never fet( hed outer the. purty child what thet one yarn did." Nevertheless, as (iabriel sat down lo his su[)])er he was still haunted by tlie om-inous advice and counsel he had heard that day. When Oily had finished her meal — he noticed that she had forborne, evidently at great personal sacrifice, to sop the frying-])an wi*h her bread — he tiu"ned to her gravely. "Efyouwi: ever asked, Oily, ef I liad been : weet u]H)n Mrs. Markle, wot would you say?" " Say," said Oily, savagely, " I'd say that if they ever was a woman ez had run arter a man with less call to do it — it w.is Mrs. Markle — that same old disgustin' Susan Markle. Thet's wot I'd say, and I'd say it — to her face ! Gabe — see here !" *'Well," said the delighted Gabriel. " Ef that school-ma'am comes up here, do you jest make \\y to her!" " Oily !' ejaculated the alarmed (jabriel. " You jest go for her I You jest do f(jr her what you did for thet Susan Markle. And jest you do it, if you can, (iabe.— wlien Mrs. Markle's around — or afore little Manty — she'll U'l and tell her mother -she tells her everything. I've heei d Gabe, that some o' them school-ma'ams is nice." In his desire to please Oily, Gabriel would have imparted it. her the story of his adventure in the cauon, but a vague fear \. MMFM inn VI K^C \»i.\( I I s m •0 li.it ()ll\ miLiht (U'liKind rmm Iiim .111 iiisiaii' ilk'i I'l Ins luiiul ,;ii(l hc.iri to tilt.' woman he li:i(l >.i\l(I. < Iuc kid ilu- (lisilo^nrr. \ii(l the iK'Xt iiiointMil tlicic was a la]) at llu- lioor ot the > ahiii. •• I forgot to say, (lahc. that I.awytT Maxwell was here lo- (lav to see ye," said Oily, •'and I bet yoii thei's liim. ll'lu.- u.inls you to miss nnvbodv. (labe, don't ye doit! \'ou :.;ol. . iiMUL'h to do to look after ine '/' (lahriel rose with a perplexed l,i(\' and >\])c\\< d the deor. A I, ill dark man. with a beard heavily streaked with •j^v;\y, entereil. riK-re \va^ something in his manner and dress, although both (.informed to local prejiidiees and customs, that denoted a rvpe of man a little above the average sorjal (otuliiion of One Horse CiuUh. Tnlike ( labriel's previous evening visitor, he did not glance around him, but fixed ajiairof keen halfdiumor- ous, half interrogating gray eyes uj)on his host's face, and kept them there. The habitual expression of his features was seri- ous, excei)t for a certain half-nervous twitching at the left cor- ner of his mouth, which continued usuallv, until he stopped and passed his hand softly across it. The impression always Kit on the spectator was, that he had wijied away a smile, as some ]^eople do a tear. *• 1 don't think T ever before met vou, Gabriel," he said, ad- \an( ing and offering his hand. " M\ name is Maxwell. I think you've heard of me. I have (omc tor a little talk (,>n a niatter ot business." The blank dismay of (labriel's face did not escape him, nor the gesture with which he motioned to Oily to retire. "Its '|uite evident," he said to himself, "that the child knows luahing of this, or is unprei)ared. 1 have taken him by .sur- prise."' •' If I mistake not. Oabriel." said Maxwell aloud. " voiir little er- girl — is as much cora •/ned in this matter as vourself. Why not let her remain?" " No, no," said (Tal)riel, now feeling ])erfe< tly convinced in the depths of his <^onscience-stricken soul that Maxwell was here as the legal adviser of the indignant Mrs. Maj-kie. "' No ' ' )lly run out and get soiiit.' chips in the uood-hoiise agin to- morrow morning's fire, kiin ! " • •■ • »* ? f..:' i.'!' y . •ft - * I, « »Ur '.AIlKIKI, ( (»Nk()\ ()ll\ r.in. M.iwvcll 1 ..M .i look alter the < hiM, wipid hi-- inoiitli. .111(1. kiiniiii; his t'liow on iIk- tiiblc, lived his eves on (liil)iiel. " I have called to-ni.nht, (lahriel, lo see if we can arrani^e .1 ( ertaiii in.ittcr wilhoui liouble. and even— .is I .1111 eniploved .iLjainsl you with as little talk as possible, 'i'o jir ii.tnk. I am intrusted with the jiapers in a k\ual pi"o( eediiiLj a;;ainst voii. Now. see heie ! is it necessary lor me to s.i\- wh.il these j)ro « eedin.us are? is it even necessary lor me lo :;ive the name ol my client?" Gabriel dropped his eyes, bin even then ihe frank honesty ol his nature spoke for him. He raised liis liead and said siinj)ly : "No!" Lawyer Maxwell was f(jr a moment staij;^L,^er.d, but only for a moment. ••(iood," he said, thoiit;htfully ; "you are Irank. Let me ask you now if, to avoid le^al |)roceedinLjs. public iiy. and scandal -and allow me lo add, the almost absolute cer tainty of losing in any suit that might be i)rought against you — would you be willing to abandon the house and claim'. n once, allowing it to go ford;images in the past? If you would. I think 1 could accept it for such. 1 think I co ild i)romisr that even this ijueslion of a closer relaiiojishi]) would not come up. Briefly, s/ie might keep heT name and iv.v might keeji yours, and you woifld remain to each (Hher as strangers. What do you say ?" Oabricl rose quickly and took the lawyer's hands with a tremulous grasp. '' YouVe a kind man, Mr. Maxwell," he said, shaking the lawyer's hand vigorously; "a gooil man. It's .1 bad business, and you've made the best of it. Kf you'd been uiy own lawyer instead o' her.s, you couldn't hev treated me better. I'll leave liere at onie. I've been thinking o' doin' il ever since this yer thing troubled me , but I'll go to-morrow. N'e ken hev the house and all il contains. If I had anything else in a way of a fee to offer ye. Id do it. She kin hev the house and all that they is of it. And then nothing will be said?" •• \oi a word," said Maxwell, examining Gal-)riel curiously. "No talk — nothin' in the news)-)ai)ers?" continued Gabriel. '4 n >IMII l( I I \ VI K'Sl'S S\<-..\( I I S- o;: ' . . • \*niir ( oMfliH I tdw.inl lur, ,iml \niir ;iltitU(I'' in this wlmK ,iil,iir, will l>c kfjit .1 iimroiind >c. ic!. llnIt•^s \nii li;i|(|>t.ii to \>v trav it voursclt": and that is iiu oiir reason tor .idvisiiiu von t< liavf hciv.'' said (lalniil. rnltltinu his hands •II do It to lilolTi >\\, Wouldn't vou likr to hav o iul- si^n sonic hit o |ia|»fi' ■i " \o. no,'' said tlu- lawvi-r. wiping; his month with his hand. cw and lookini; at (lahricl as if lu- liclonLird to sonu> cntiridv n v])C( ics. '• Ix't nic advise yon, as a tricnd, tu sii;n no paper that nnL;ht Itc brought against vou hci\a("tff. Ndiii sinijilc' iihandonniont ol" tlu- ( laiin , nd hoiiKo is sufficient for our ))ur- poscs. I will make out no pa|»crs in the case until Thursdav i)V that time I expe( t to find no oiu- to scr\c tluin oti. \ on iiiulers land (laliricl nodded, and wiunt; the lawyer's hand warmly. Ma\- \vi II walked toward the door, still keeping his j;lan< e fixed on ("Liliriel's ( lear. holiest eves. ( )n the threshold he j)ausc(l, and leaning against it. wiped his mouth with a slow gesture, and sau "From all 1 ran hear, Ciabriel. vnu are a simple, honest fel- low, and 1 franklv confess to m)U. hut for the admission you have made to me, I would have thoui^'ht \<»u iin .i|iaMi' ot attemplmg to wront a woman. I should hav e supposed i some mistake. I am not a judge of the motives of men ; I am too old a lawyer, and too familiar with things of this kind, to he sur))rised at men's motives, or even to judge their rights or wrongs 1)V mv own. liut now that we understand each other, would you mind telling me what was youi motive tor this petal liar and monstrous form of de<-eption ? I'nderstand me; it will not alter mv opinion of vou. which is. that \ ai are not a had man. lint I am ( urious to know how you could deliher ately set about to wrong ihis woni.in ; what '.vas the motive ?" (iabriel's face tlushetl dee] il\ . I'lien he lifted his eyes and 'inted to the screen. The I.twver followed the direction of Ills finger, and saN^^Olly standing in llie dn(»rway, awve r M; ixwi'll smiled It is the sex. anvwav," he said to hiiuself ; '* i)erhai)s a little youuLier than 1 supposed ; of < ..urse. Iiis own ( hild." He nod to Marysville." '• Well," said ()lly, '"then I'm goin' to bed now." *' Oily," said (labriel re[)roa(hfiilly, as he watched the little figure disappear behind the canvas, "ye didn't kiss me fur good- niuht." Oily came back. " Vou ole Oabe —you I" she said patron i/.ingly, as she ran her fingers through his tangled curls, and stooped to bestow a kiss on his forehead from an a[)parently immeasurable moral and intellectual height " you old, big (lahe, what would you do without me, I'd like to know.-*" The next morning Gabriel was somewhat surprised at ob- serving Oily immediately after the morning meal proceed gravely to array herself in the few more res|)ectal)le garments that belonged to her wardrobe. Over a white muslin frock, yellow and scant with age, she had tied a scarf of glaring i heaj) pink ribbon, and over this again she had secured, by the aid of an enormous tortoise-shell brooch, a large black and white check shawl of her mother's that even repeated folding could not re- duce in size. She then tied over her yellow curls a large straw hat, trimmed with nhite and yellow daisies and pale green ribbon, and completed her toilet by unfurling over her shoulder a small yellow parasol. (labriel, who had been watching these i)reparations in great concern, at last ventured! to address tlie bizarre but pretty little figure before him, "War you goin', Oily?" '• I K)wn the gulch to say good-bye to the Reed gals. 'Tain't the s(|uare thing to vamose the ranch without letlin' on to folks." '• Ve nin't goin' near Mrs. Markle's, are ye ?" (|Ueried Ciabriel, in depiccatory alarm ••"I ? ■ • ; ."i'l I ,.*'4 I- ''V ♦' '■■■J' • , . ••!- ' on CMiKIKf. CONRr»V. .^.t \ !l hi.'! Oily turned a scornful flash of liur dear 1 luc eye upon hci l)rother, andsni*! < urlly : "Ketrhmc!" There was somclliing so appallinu in her quickness, such a sudden revelation of quaint determination in the lines of lier mouth and eyebrows, that (iabriel could say no more. Without a word he watc hed the yellow sunshade and napj)in^ straw hat, with its streaminji ribbons, slowly disapi)ear down the winding descent of the hill. And then, ;i sudden and grotesque sense of dependence upon the child ; an ajjpreciation of some reserved quality in her nature hitherto unsuspected by him something that separated them now, and in the years to ( ome would slowly widen the rift between them, came upon him with such a desolating sense of loneliness that it seemed unendurable. He did not dare to re-enter or look back upon the cabin, but pushed on vaguely toward his claim on the hill-side. On his way thither he had to pass a solitary redwood tree that he had often noticed, whose enormous bulk belittled the rest of the forest; yet, also, by reason of its very isolation, had acquired a certain lonely i)athos that was far beyond the suggestion of its heroic size. It seemed so imbecile, so gratuitou.sly large, so unproductive of the good that might l)e exijected of its bulk, so unlike the smart .spruces and i)ert young furs and larches that stood beside it, that Gab- riel instantly accej^ted it as a symbol of himself, and could not hel|) wondering if there were not some other locality where everything else might be on its own plane of existence. " If I war to go thar,'' said Gabriel to himself, " I wonder if I might not suit better than I do yer, and be of some sarvice to that child." Me pushed his way through the underbush, and storxl ui)on the ledge that he bad first claimed on his arrival at One Horse (iulch. It was dreary- -it was unpromising — a vast stony field high up in air, covered with scattered bowlders of dark iron-grey rock, (iabriel smiled bitterly. "Any other man but me couldn't hev bin sich a fool as to ])reempt sich a claim tur gold. P'r'aps its all for the best that I'm short of it now."" said Gabriel, as he turned away, and descended the hill to his later claim in the gulch, which yielded him that pittam e known in the minini; diak'c t as'''rrub." siMF'iJCiiv VKRsrs sa(;a(:hv. 1)7 — ."" . . ' 'l • '• ♦ ••1 ;,»• »' ■1 vr* : . It was nearly three (>'( lock hetorc he riliirnc and told him everythin' I knew about thet woman, and I never told you, (iabe, the half of it. I just .sed ez how she'd been runnin' rountl arter you ever sen( e she first set eves on vou, when vou was nussin' her husband wot died. How you never e/ PHuhoz loooked at her ontil I set you up to it! How she used to unmt round yer and >it and sit and look at you, Gabe, and kinder do this et ye (i\cr licr shoulder" — here. Oily achieved an admirable imitation of certain arch glances of Mrs. Markle that would have ilriven that estimable lady frantic with rage, and even at this moment ( aused the basht'ul blood of Gabriel to tly into his very eyes - '• and how she used to let on all sorts of excuses to get you over thar, and how you refoosed ! And wot a deceitful old mean div^ustin' critter she was enny way I" and here Oily paused for want of breath. •■ And what did he say?'' said the eijually breathless Gabriel. " Xothin' at first ! Then he laughed, and laughed and lauuhed till I thought he'd bust ! .'\nd then- let nic see," re- tldud the conscientious Ollv, " he saiil thar was some ' absurd ••••'•■• ■ \' t ' .-•• I 98 GABUIKI, CONROY. ■ \ ■ l)lundcr and mistrike ;' that's jest what he railed thet Mrv Markle, (iabc-hope God'll kill me next niinnit ct' those w. ra his very words ! And then he set up another yell o' lauglim . and somehow, (labe, 1 i;ot to laughin'. and she s^ot to laii o' an too," and Oily lauL;hed at the recollection. "Who's .v//<' ? ' asked (labriel, with a most lugubrious (arc. " ( )h, (labe ! you think everybody's Mrs. Markle," said OIK, swiftly. " S/tf was a lady e/ was with thet Lawyer Maxwell, r/ heerd it all. Why, Lord, she seemed to take e/ nuu h intero; in it as the lawyer. P'r'a[)s," said Ollv, with a slight degree di conscious ])ride as raconicur ^ "p'r'aps it was the way 1 told it 1 was ///<■/ mad, (iabe, and sassy !" " And what did he say?" continued Gabriel, still ruefulh, for to him, as to most simple, serious natures devoid ot" ; m sense of humor, all this inconse([uent hilarity looked suspicions " Why, he was fur puttin' right over here ' to explain,' e/ he called it, but the lady st(»pped him, and sed somethin' low 1 didn't get to hear. Oh, she must be a partikler friend o' hi\ Gabc —for he did everythin' thet she said. And she said I was to go back and say thet we needn't hurry ourselves to git awav at all. And thet's the end of it, Gabe." "But didn't he say anythin' more, Oily?" said Gabriel, anxiously. " No ! He begin to ask me some questions about old times and Starvation Camp, and I'd made up my mind to disre member all them things as I told you. Gabe, fur I'm jest sick o' being called a cannon ball, so I jest disremembered everythinu ez fast ez he asked it, until he sez, sez he to this !ady, ' Slu- evidently knows nothin' o' the whole thing.' Hut the lady hed been tryin' to stop his askin' questions, and hed been kinder signin' to me not to answer, too. Oh, she's cute, Gabe ; 1 could see thet ez soon ez I set down." "What, did she look like. Oily?" said Gabriel, with an affect tation of carelessness, but still by no means yet entirely relieveil in his mind. "Oh, she didn't look like Mrs. Markle, Gabe, or any o' tliet kind. A kinder short woman, with white teeth, and a small waist, and good clo'es. I didn't sort o' take to her much, Gabe, though she was verv kind to me. I tlon't know ez I ixjuld --av I. AN OI.I> I'K INKER Ol 49 09 cv.ukly what she did If)f)k like ; I rcrkon thar ain't anybody aboui \cr t/ l(X)ks like she. Saints and goodness I Gabe, tluitV luT uow ; thar she is." Sdiiiiihing darkened the doorway. (lahriel, looking up, |.(.hcM the woman he had .saved in tlie canon. It was Madame I '(.•vaiiic's ! > t CHAl' lER XV. I • *\ AN ()\.V I'lONKF.R OF 49. A IFJICK fog. dense, im])enetral)le, l)linsh-gray and raw, niark- nl the advent of tlie gentle sunnner ot" 1.S54 on the Calil'ornia (oast. 'I'he hrief inniiature spring was jwarcely yet over; there were flowers still to be seen on the outlying hills around San IraiK iseu, and the wild oats were yet green on the Contra (osta mountains. But the wild oats were h'idden under a tlim India inky vail, and the wild flowers accepted the joyless eiu- i'l.i > of the fog with a staring waxen rigidity. In short, the uwithcr was so uncoml'ortable that the a\erage Californian was more than ever inclined to impress the stranger aggressively with the fact that fogs were healthy, and that it was the *' finest ( liiiiate on the earth.'' lVrha])S no one was better cah ulated or more accustomed to tin|ircss the stranger with this lielief than Mr, l*eter Dumphy, h.uikcr and (ajiitalist. His outsjxjken faith in the j^resent and liiturc of California was unbounded. His sincere convictions that no country or climate was ever before so signally favored, h^ intoleration of any criticism or belief to the contrary, made him a representative man. So positive and unmistakable was his habitual expression on these subjects, that it was im|H)ssible lo remain long in his presence without becoming impressed with the idea that anv other condition of society, c limate or < ivili/ation. than that which obtained in California, was a mis i.ike. Strangers were brought earlv to imbibe from this foun- tain, timid and weak Californians in danger of a relaji^e had >.-■!., •, ' :t'-,. KIO fwMJklK.r, (ONROV their f.iilh renewed and their eyesight restored In' l)atl)iii,' this pool tliat Mr. Diiniphy kej)t ahvays rejjlenished. Incur sciously peojjle at last t^ot to ef'lioing Mr. I)iinij)hy's views i:| their own, and miu h ol tlie large praise that appeared in nt> papers, pubhc speeches, and correspondence, was first voice: | by I)unii)hy. It must not l)C supposed that Mr. Duniphy's positivcness« statement and ])eren''.ptory manner were at all injurious to h;;| social rejJUtation. Owing to that susi)i( ion with which imis; frontier communities regard polite con( wssion and suavitvi: method, Mr. numi)hys brusque frankness was always a( ccptc: as genuine. "You always know what Pete 1 )umj)hy mean-, was tlie average criticism. *' He ain't goin' to lie to please ara man." To a conceit that was so outspoken as to be coura^, ous, to an ignorance that was so freely and shamelessly c\ pressed as to make hesitating and cautious wisdom ai)pearwi\h and unmanly beside it, Mr. Dumphy added the rare (jualitvu: perfect unconscientiousness unmixed with any adultciatin. virtue. It was with su( h rare combative qualities as these that Mr Dumi)hy sat that morning in his private office and geiicrilh opposed the fog without, or rather its influence upon hh patrons and .society at large. The face he offered to it waNi .strong one, although superficially smooth, for since the iwidtr had the honor of his acquaintance, he had shaved off his beard, as a })robable unnecessary indication of character. It was sti'' early, but he had already dispatched much business with iha: prompt decision which made even an occasional blunder seen; heroic. He was signing a letter that one of his clerks had brought him, when he said, briskly, without looking up : " Send Mr. Ramirez in.." Mr. Ramirez, who had already called for three successive days without obtaining an audience of Dumphy, entered the ])rivate room with an excited sense of having been wronged, which, however, instantly disappeared, as far as external mam festation was concerned, on his contact with the hard-he ulcd, aggressive, and promj)t Dumphy. " How do ?" said Dumphy, without looking up from his desL '• ; • AN OI,r> Ptn\KKR «»| 49. 101 .111(1 Ml. K.imirez uttered some ohjettion to the \ve;Uhei, tlu'ii tot.k a sent uneasily near huniphy. ••(i<» on," ^aid l)urnj»hy. '* I (an listen." • 1 1 is I who came to listen," said Mr. Ramirez, with great suavitv. " It is of the news, I would hear." • \'ls,"' saifl Mr. l)(imj)hy. simnini^ his name rapidly to several (l(i( iiiiiiiUs, " Ves, Yh, Vks." lie finishetl theui, turrud rapidly upon Raniire/, and said ''\'es!" a^ain. in such a positive m.miicr as to utterly shipwreck that ijenllcinan's self ( ontrol. " Rainirez !" said Dumphy, al)rui>lly. "How uuk h have vdii ,u<»l in that thing ?" Mr. R.unire/, still lloating on a sea of c<;njecture, could only say, " Kh ! Ah ! It is wh.u ?" " How t:lee/> are you ? 1 low much would you /osc ?" Mr. Ramirez endeavored to h\ his eyes upon Dimiphy's. " How — much — would I lo.se ? if how ? If what ?" -What — money have you got- in it?" said Mr. Dum- ]ihy. (.'iiiphasizing each wurd shari)ly, with the blunt end of his pen on the desk. "No money I 1 have much interest in the success of Madame 1 )evarges !'' "Then vou're n >. " in' much ! That's luckv for vou. Read that letter. Show him in 1" The last remark was in reply to a mumbled interrogatory of the ( lerk, who had just entered. Perhai)s it was luckv for Mr. Ramirez that Mr. Dumphy's absorjnion with his new visitor prevented his observation of his previous visitor's fa( e. .As he read the letter, Ramirez's face first turned to an ashen-gray hue, then to a livid j)urple ; then he sma< ked his dry lips thrice, and said " Caramba^ then with burning eyes he turned toward Dumphy. ■' Vou have read this ?" he asked, shaking the letter toward iHmiphy. " One moment," interrupted Dumphy, finishing the conver- Mtion with his latest visitor, and following him to the do<.>r. "Yes," he continued, returning to his desk and facing Ramirez, •'Yes!" Mr. Ramirez could only shake the letter and smile in 3 ghastly way at Dumphy. -I- \' > V 102 f;ARHTFI, f ONROV. <> *' " W's," said I )iiiiii)liy, iciuliing forward and (oolly taking tit' letter out ot' K.imiiw.'s hand. " \'es. Sccnis she's j;()ni;'t'i ^et married."' \u- » ontiniied. consuUing the letter, "(loiiiui marry the hrotlu-r, ihc man in possessidn. 'I'hivt pulslur.i! right ; any way the cat jumi)s. And it lets ivv/ out." With tht* air of l)a\ ini; finished the interview, Mr. I)uni|l, <|nietly returned the letter, followed by Kamire/'s Ljlarint; i\is, to a pigeon hole in his desk, and tapped his desk with his pen holder. "And you -you?"' gasped Ramirez, hoarsely, "you?" " Oh, / didn't go into it a dollar. Vet it was a good inves: ment. She could have made out a strong case. You h.ii possession of the deed v)r will. didn"t you? There was nn cv dence of the existence of the other woman," continued M- |)umi)hy, in his usually loud voice, overlooking the caulionir. gestures of Mr. Kamire/, with p(.'rfe( t indifference. " Helhi How do?" he added, to another visitor. " I was just sendin: vou a note." Mr. Kamire/ rose. His long fmger-nails were buried in the yellow tlesh of his i)alms. I lis face was (juite bloodless ;inij his lips were dry " What's your hurry?" said l)umi)hy, looking up. "dome in again I There's another matter 1 want you to look iiitn, Ramirez ! V\'e've got some money out on a claim that ought to have one or two essential jjapers to make it right. I flare sav they're 1} ing round r.oiuewhere where you can fmd 'cm, .)raw on me tor the expense." Mr. IJumi)hy did not say this slyly, nor with any dark siunifi cance, but with perfect frankness. Virtually it said: " You're a scamp, so am \ ; whether or m)\. this other man who owr hears us is one likewise, it matters not." He took his scat again, turned to the latest comer, and became oblivious of his j)revious companion. lAickily for Mr. Ramirez, when he reached the street he had recovered the control of his features if not his natural color. At least the fog, which seemed to lend a bluish-gray shade i<< all complexions, allowed his own livid cheek to pass unnoticed He walked 'juiclclv, and it n])peared, almost unconsciousb . t" \Ward the walci, lor it was not until he reached the steamhuai I. , * AN OI r» IMONKFR nh 49. \o:\ wh. Ill til. it he kiuw wlure lie was. \\c secinrd lit h.uc l.ikcn imc ^ll |> tVoin Mr. I )imii)h\":-. otfu e to tlio pu 1. Tlicrc was notliiiii; bcUvecii these two ol>je( Is in liis loiist iousness. 'I'lie iiitiiAal was utterly annihihitetl. I he steamboat did not leave for Sacianieiito until eight that tveniui;. and it was only ten o'clock now. He iiad been eon- Mious ()( tfiis as he walked, but he < ould not h;ive resisted this iiiH' nH)ven^"nt, even if a lulile one, toward the objec t of his revengeful fren/.y. Wu hours to wait ten hours to be passive, in.u tivt— to be doing nothing ! How could he pass tlie uine ? He (ould sharpen his kuife. He (ould buy a new one. He (uiild purcha.se a better pistol. He remembered passing a gunsmith's shop with a display of glittering weapons in its win- (!.;\v. He retracetl his steps ;mkI entered the shop, spending some moments in tinning over the gunsmith's various wares- Especially was he fascinated by a h^ng, broad-bladed i)owie. knife. " My own make," said the tradesman, with professional pride, passing a broad, leathery thumb along the keen edge of the blade. " it'll sjilil a half-dollar. See ! "' He threw a half-dollar on the (oiniter, and with a (piic k, str.iight, down-d.'irting stab pierced it in halves. Mr. Ramirez was pleased, and professed a desire to make the experiment himself. lUit the point slipped, sending the half dollar across the shop and cutting, a long splintering furrow ui the counter. •' Vcr narves ain't steady. .And ye try too hard," said the man coolly. " Thet's the way it's apt to be with you gents. \o jest work yourself up into a fever 'bout a little thing like Uut. ez if everythin' depended on it. Don't make sich a big thing of it. Take it easy like this," and with a (juick, firm, workmanlike stroke the tradesman repeated the act succesji- fullv. Mr. Ramirez bought the knife. As the man wrapi)cd it up in pni)er, he remarked with philosophic kindness : " 1 wouldn't try to do it agin this niornin'. It's early in the day and Fve noticed thet gents ez hez been runin' free all night ain't apt to do theirselves justice next mornin'. Take it • luietly alone by yourself, this arternoon ; don't think you're goin' to do anythin' big, and you'll fetch it, sure ! " f I KM nAHKIKT. fONKOV. •l" When Mr. Rnniiv/ was in the si ret* again he looked at hi*. wal( li. KIcvcn 'm lock ! Only one hour j^'one. He Imttonrii his coat tigluly <»\er the knife m his hreast pocket, and st.irtu: on again feverishly. Twi-Ive o'< lock lound him laiuMing (»vn the sandhills near the Mission Dolores. In one of die l»v streets he came ujum a wonian looking so like the one that tilled all his tln)tights, tluit he turned to look at her again with a glanci- so full ni malevolence thai she turned from hiin m terror. This (in mnstance, his agitation, .md the contuiii.i! diyness of his li])-. sent him into a .saloon, where he dnmk Ireely, without, however, increasing or abating his excitement When he returned to the crow(led streets again, he walked • [iiickly, imagining that his maimer was noticed by others, in oUch intervals as he snatched from the contemplation of a sini,'lc intention. There were several ways of doing it. One was to tax her with her deceit and then kill her in the tempest of his in diguatioQ. Another ;uvl a more favorite thought was to surprise her and her new acc(miplice- lor Mr. Ranure/., after the manm-r of most jealous reasorers, never gave her credit lur any higher motive than that she had shown to him — and kill them both. Another and a later idea was to spend the strength of his murderous passion upon the man, and then to enjoy her discomfiture, the failure ot her plans, and jierhaps her appeals for forgiveness. But it would still be two days before he could reach them. Perhaps they were already married. Perhaps they would be gone I In all this wild, passionate and tumultuous contemi)lation of an etTect, there never had been for a single moment in his mind the least doubt of the adequacy of the cause. That ho was a iVLr;il hours? He Wdiild 140 d{)\\n to ihc wh.irf and Mnniirc. In the meantime, let the devil seize the fog ! Mi^^ht the li"ly St. I'.artliolomew tlainn torever the (ow.irdly dog of a (•.i|e to ,:;o I He (.mic >haii>Iy enough down Commen uil si i ret. .nid then, when oppoMte the Arcade Saloon, with the instint t lliat leads (Icspcrate men into desperate |»la( ^s, he entered and glared vindic lively .iround iiini. Till' inunense room, bright wit!) lights and glittering with gilding and mirrors, seemed (jiiiet and grave in ( on'.rast with the i;usy thoroughfare without. It was still too early for the usual Jiabifiics of the place ; only a few of the long gambling tat)lc> were occuj)ied. There was only a single tnontc bank "open," and to this Ramirez bent his steps with the peculiar ])rL(liIc( tions of his race. Jt so chanced that Mr. Jack Ilar.din was iL-niporarily in ( liarge of the interests of ihis bank, and was dealing in a listless, |)erfiin( tory manner. It may be parenthe- lu.dly remarked that his own game was faro. His present |)()siii(;n was one of jmre friendliness to the absent dealer, who was taking his dinner above stairs. R.iiiiire/ thing a piece of g(*ld on the table and lost. Again he icinpted fortune and lost. H ■ lost the third time. Then his i)cnt-up feelings found vent in the ( haracteristic '' Laraml'af" Mr. Jack Hamlin looked up. It was not the oath, it was not the expression of ill-humor, both of which wert coiutiion enough in Mr. Hamlin's experience, but a certain di>iinguishing (juality in the voice wliich awoke Jack'.j peculiarly retentive mem(ed to th^' ^'ambler's side. " Voii would insull me ^o ! Vou would i.h vv-at! eh? ■'#.•' I . • '. •■• •l, •.141 .1 ;t-*jVi" lOH (;ahrim, conkov. You would take my money, so I " he said hoarsely, gesti( ulai- ing i)assionately\vith one iiand, while with the other he grasijcd as wildly in his breast. Mr. Jack Hamlin turned a pair of dark eyes on the speaker and said (juietly : " Sit down Johnny ! " With the ])ent-ui) i)assion of the last few hours boiling in his blood, with tite nuuclerous intent of the morning still darkling in his mind, with the i)assionate sense of a new insult stinging him to madness, Mr, Ramirez should have struck the gambler to the earth. Possibly that was his intention as he crossed to his side ; possibly that was his conviction as he heard himself- he — Victor Ramirez ! whose presence in two days should strike terror to two hearts in One Horse Gulch ! — addressed as Johnny ! But he looked into the eyes of Mr. Hamlin and hesitated. Wiiat he saw there I cannot say. 'J'hey were handsome eyes, clear and well opened, and had l)een considered by several members of a fond and confiding sex as peculiarly arch and tender But, it must be confessed, Mr. Ramirez returned to his seat without doing anything. " Ve don't know that man," said Mr. Hamlin to the two players nearest him, in a tone of deep conlidence, which was, however, singularly loud enough to be heard distinctly by every one at the table, including Ramirez. " You don't know him, but 1 do ! He's a desjmt character," continued Mr. Hamlin glancing at him and quietly shuffling the cards, ''a very desprit character! Make your game gentlemen! Keeps a cattle ranch in Sonoma, and a i)rivate grave -yard whar he buries his own dead. They call him the ' Yaller Hawk ot Sonoma.' lie's outer sorts jest now; probably jest killed .some one up thar, and smells blood." Mr. Ramirez smiled a ghastly smile, affected to examine tho gime minutely and critically as Mr. Hamlin paused to rake in the gold. "He's artfid— is Johnny!" continued Mr. Hamlin in tlie interval of shuffling, "artful and sly! Partiklerly when he's afcer blood ! See him sittin' thar and smilin'. He doseiit want to interrupt the game. He knows, gentlemen, thet in five minutes tVom now, jim will be back here and I'll be tree, '• • ■ • AX Ot.n PIONF.KR 0|- '49. 10; ■'I '. • 'riitt's uh:il he's wailiiv fori Thct's what's the ninltcr with the "Willii Slaughterer (A' Sonoma.' (lot liis knife ready in his breast, too. Done u]* in brown paper to keep it dean. He's mighty i)ertikler 'bout his wci)pins is Johnny. Hez a new knife for cvcr>' new man." Kaniirc/ rose with an attempt at jocularity, and pocketed his ijains. Mr. HamHn affected not to notice him until he was about to leave the tal)le. " He's goin' to vait for me outside," he exclaimed. "In five minutes. Johnny," he called to Ramire/'s retreating figure. "If vi)U can't wait, I'll expect ^o see you at the Marysville Hotel next week, Room No. 95, the next room, Johnny, the next room ! " The Mr. Ramirez who reached tlic busy thoroughfare again was so different from Mr. Ramirez who twenty minutes before had enterefl the Arcade that his identity might have easily been doubted. He did not even breathe in the same way ; his ( heek, although haggard, had resumed its color; his eyes, which hitherlij had been fixed and contemplati\e, had returned to their usual restless vivacity. With the exception that at first he walked ijuickly on leaving the saloon, and once or twice hurriedly turned to see if anybody were following him, his manner was totally changed. And this without effusion of blood, or the indulgence of an insatiable desire for revenge ! As I prefer to deal with Mr. Ramirez without affecting to know any more of that gentleman than he did himself, I am unable to explain any more clearly than he did to himself the reason for this change in his manner, or the utter subjection of his murderous passion. \\'hen it is remembered that for several liours he had had unlimited indulgence, without opposition, in his own instincts, but that for the last twenty mini »es he had some reason to doubt their omnipotence, perhaps some cxi)lanation may be adduced. I only know that by lialf i)ast six Mr. Ramirez had settled in his mind that j)hysical punish- ment ol his enemies was not the most efficacious means of revenue, and that at half-past seven he had conchided //of to iake the Sacramento boat. And yet for the previous six hours I ha\r reason to believe that NIr. Ramirez was as sincere a inunlerer as ever suffered the penalty of his act, or to whom ;. ' ^\ r ■" 108 OAr.KIKI. CONROV "-' V circumstances had not offered a Mr. Hamlin to act upon a coustitutional cowardice. Mr, Ramirez proceeded leisurely down Montgomery street until he came to Pacific street. At the corner of the street hi> way was for a moment stopped by a rattling team and wagon that dashed off through the fog in the direction of the whan". Mr. Ramirez recognized the express and mail for the Sacra mento boat. But Mr. Ramirez did not know that the express contained a letter which r;in as follows : "Dear Madam: Vuurs of the loth received, and contents noted. Am willing to make our services contingent upon your success. \Vi' believe your ))resent course will he quite as satisfactory as the plan yf>u \n^[ ])roposed. Would advise you not give a personal interview to Mr. Kamirez, but refer him to Mr. Gabriel Conroy. Mr. Raniire/.':> ntanut r ii such as to lead us to suppose that he might offer violence, unless \\itliliclil by the presence of a third party. Youis respectfully, " JftliiK IJU.MPIIV." CHAPTER XVI. A CLOUD OF WITNESSES. The street into which Ramirez jjlunged at first sight ap peared almost impassable, and but for a certain regularil\ in the parallels of irregular, oddly built houses, its original inicn tion as a thoroughfare might have been open to grave doubt. It was dirty, it was muddy, it was ill-lighted ; it was rocky and precipitous in some ])laces, and sandy and monotonous in otjicis. The grade had been changed two or three times, and ok h time api)arently for the worse, but always with a noble di>rc gard for the dwellings, which were invariably treated as an accident in the original design, or as obstacles to he ovrrconu at any hazard. The near result of this large intent was id isolate some houses completely, to render others utterly ina( » c> sible except by scaling ladders, and to produce the geiuial impression that they were begun at the top and built dcwii. The remoter effect was to i)lacc iho locaHly under a stx i:;l Ian. t . A < lorn (>!• WIINFSSKS. lOf) .md work n kind of outhuvry aincng llie inhaltilnnts. St:vcral oi tliL houses were originally occu])ied by the Spanish native ("alitornians, who, with the conservative instincts of their race, still (lung to their i(7sas after the Americans had tlown to pas- tures new and less rocky and inaccessible' beyond. Their vacant places were again filled by T)ther native Californians, through that social law which draws the members of an inferior and politically degraded race into gregarious solitude and isolation, and the locality became known as the Si)anish Quar- ter. That they lived in houses utterly inconsistent with their habits and tnstes ; that they affected a locality utterly foreign to their incl .nations or customs, was not the least pathetic and grotcs(iue element to a contemplative observer. Ixfore, or rather beneath one of the.se stru(tures, Mr. Rnmirez stopped, and began the ascent of a long tlight of wooden steps, that at last brought him to the foundations of the dwelling. Another equally long exterior staircase brought him at last to the veranda or gallery of the second story, the tirst 1-eing ])artly hidden by an embankment. Here Mr. Rauiiri/ discovered another flight of narrow steps leading down to a platform before the front door. It was ()])en. In the hall way two or three dark-faced men were lounging, smoking di^aritos, and enjoying, in .spite of the fog, the apparentJy un- seasonable ne'^lige of shirt .sleeves and no collars. At the open iVont windows of the parlor two or three women were sitting, tiad in the lightest and whitest of flounced muslin skirts, with heavy shawls over their heads and shoulders, as if summer had stopped at their waists, like an etpiator. The house was feebly lighted, or rather the gloom of yellow- isli-hrowned walls and dark furnitu^'c from which all luster and polish had been smoked, made it seem darker. Nearly every room and all the piazzas were dim with the yellow haze of burning ci^ayitos. There were light brown stains on the shirt sleeves of the men, there were yellowish streaks on tlx' other- wise spotless skirts of the women : every masculine and femi- nine forefinger and thumb was steeped to its first joint with yellow. The fumes of burnt |)aper and tobacco j)ermeatcd the whole house like some religious incense, through which oa isionallv struggled an rns])iration of red peppers and garlic, •1 . f . • < ■ 110 (■AliKIlI roXFOV r I'i Two or tlirre of the loungers addressed R.miire/ ni terms of grave recognition. One of the women— the stoutest- iippcnrcd at the door-way, holding her shawl tightly over her shoui(icr> with one hand, as if to conceal a dangerous dishabille almvo the waist, anil, i)layfully shaking a l)lack fan at the young man with the other hand, a[)i)Hed to him the various epithets of " Ligrale," "Traitor," and "Judas," with great vivacity and volul)ility. Then she faced him co([uetish]y. " And after so long, whence now. thou little blackguard ?" "It is of business, n\v heart antl soul," exclaimed Ramirez, with hastv and somewhat perfunctory gallantry. "Who ii above?" ' " Those who testify." "And Don Pedro?" " He is there, and the Sefior Perkins." " (iood. 1 will go on after a little," he nodded apologetically, as he hastily ascended the staircase. On the first landing alxne he paused, turned doubtfully toward the neare.st door, and knocked hesitatingly. There was no response. Ramirez knocked again more sharply and decidedly. This resulted in a quick rattling of the lock, the sudden opening of the door. and the abrupt aj)j)earapce of a man in ragged alpaca coat and frayed trowsers. He stared fiertely at Ramirez, said in Knij;- lish, "what in h — ! next door!" and as abrujitly slammed the door in Ramirez's face. Ramirez entered hastily the mom indicated by the savage stranger, and was at once greeted by a dense cloud of smoke and the sound of welcoming voices. Around a long table covered with ([uaint-looking legal pa])crs. mai)s and parchments, a half-dozen men were seated. The greater number were past the middle age, dark-featured and grizzled-haired, and one whose wrinkled face was the color and texture of redwood bark, was bowed with decrepitude. " He had one hundred and two years dav before yestenlav. He is the principal witness to Micheltorrena's signature in the Castro claim,' exclaimed Don Pedro. " Is he able to remember?" asked Ramirez. "Who knows?" said Don Pedro, shrugging his shoulder " He will swear ; it is enough." •" >. A CLOUD OI' WIIMbbKS. Ill •Wh.il .iiiiinal l;.i\t' \\c in the iicM i'i>)in?'' asked Raiiiiic/.. •• 1;, It wolf or hear ?" •'ThcScnor IV-rkins," said Don I'cilro. "Why is he?" " 11 J translates.' Ileve Ramirez related with some vehemenre how he mis- took tlie room, and the strant^er's l)riis(|iie sakilalion. 'I'he coinyiany listened attentively and even respectfully. An Ameri- can audience would have laughed. Tiie i)resent company did not alter their serious demeanor; a breach of" i)oliteness to a stranger was a matter ot" grave importance even to these doubt- ful t haracters. Don Pedro explained : ••All, so it is believed that (lod has visited him here." He tapjied his forehead. " He is not of their country fasliion at all. He has punctuality, he has se( recy, he has the habitude. When strikes the clock three he is here ; when it strikes nine he is gone. Si.\ hours to work in th.at room ! Ah, Heavens ! The (juantity of work — it is astounding ! Folios ! Volumes ! (lood I it is done. Punctually at nine of the night he takes up .1 paper left on his desk by his padrone, in which is enwrapped ten dollars — the golden eagle, and he dei)arts for that day. They tell me that five dollars is gone at the gambling-table, but no more ! then five -dollars for subsistence- always the same. Always! Always ! He is a scholar- so profound, so admira- ble I He has the S|)anish, the French, i)erfect. He is worth his weight in gold to the lawyers — you understand — but they cannot use him. To them he says : ' I translate, lies or what not ! Who knows ? I care not — but no more.' He is won- derful!" The allusion to the gaming table revived Victor's recollec- tion, and his intention in his |)resent visit. "T'hou hast told inc. Don Pedro," he said, lowering his voice in confidence, "how much is fashioned the testimony of the witnesses in regard of the old land grants by the (Governors and Alcaldes. CkkkI. Is it so?" I )()n Pedro glanced around the njom. " Of those that are here to night five will swear as they are prepared by me — you com- jinhend — and there is a Cjoverncjr, a Nlilitarv Secretary, an .Mt aide, a Commandante, and saints [)reserve us ! an Arch- > * ♦ ' ■ 'H,--, I. V % t ■\ / ;.- 1- 112 f;AT{RIF.I. ( (»NK<)Y. Ik. 'I lir*'"l bishop ! They arc rcs))jttablc cohalleros ; l)ut they have bren rol)l)ed, you coni])icliciul, by the Americanos. W'liat matters? They have been taught a lesson. 'J'hey will got the best pric c for their memory. Kh ? They will sell it where it pays best. Believe me, Victor ; it is so."' " (iood," said Victor. " Listen ; if there was a man a brigand, a devil — an American ! — who had extorted from Pi(o a grant — you comprehend — a grant, formal, and regular, and recorded — accejited of the Land ('ommission — and .some one. eh ? — even myself, should say to you it is all wrong, my friend. my brother ah I" "From Pico?" asked Don Pedro. ".S"/, from Pico, in 47," res})onded Victor,--" a grant." Don Pedro rose, oj)ened a secretary in the corner, and took out some badly printed, yellowish blanks, with a seal in the right hand lower corner. "Custom Mouse paper from Monterey," exjjlained Don Pedro, "blank with (iovernor Pico's signature and rul)ri< . Comi)rehendest thou, Victor, my friend ? A second grant is sim])le enough !" Victor's eyes sparkled. " But two for the same Innd, my brother?" Don Pedro shrugged his shoulders, and rolled a ftesh lii^arito. " There are two for nearly every grant of his late Excellen( y. Art thou ceuain, my brave friend, there are not three to this, of which thou speakest? If there be but one -Holy Mother! it is nothing. Surely the land has no value. Where is this modest l^roperty ? How many leagues scjuare ? Come, we will retire- in this room, and thou may'st talk undisturbed. There is ex- cellent ai:^iiardiente too, my A'ictor, come," and Don Pedro rose, conducted Victor into a smaller apartment, and closed the door. Nearly an hour elai)sed. During that interval the sound of Victor's voice, raised in passionate recital, might have been heard by the 0(H:upants of the larger room but that they were com])letelv involved in their own smoky atmosphere, and were perhaps i)olitely oblivious of the stranger's business. They chatted, compared notes, and examined legn) documents with the excited and ))leased curiosity of men to whom business and « * * A (1 <>rn in- witnkssfs. li:{ thf present inijjortanrc of its results was a novelty. At a tew in;miles helore nine Hon I'edro re-ap])eare(l with Victor. 1 grieve to sav that either from the reaction of the intense excitement of the morning, from the active sympathy of his friend, or from the eiiiially sootliing .anodyne of (v^^iiardicntt, he was somewhat incoherent, interjcctional, and effusive. The effect of excessive stimulation (m passionate natures like Victor's is to render them cither maudlin or affectionate. Mr. Ramirez was both. He (leinanded with tears in his eyes 'to lie led to the ladies. He would seek in the comjiany of Manuela, the stout female before introduced to the reader, tli.it symjiathy whi< h an injured, de- tvivcd, and confiding nature, like his own so decjily cr.aved. On the staircase he ran against a stranger. ])re\inpathizing but practical Manuela : ''he is not fit, juxir imbe- lile. to be sent to his hotel. Mother of (lod, what is this?" In lifting him out of the ch.air into which he had subsided with a fatal tendency to slide to the floor, unless' held by main lorce, something h.id fallen from his breast jiocket, and Manuela had picked it up. It was the bowie knife hg had purchased tiiat morning. • *. II i (.\|;KI1 I. CUNKOV '•Ah'" N;ii(l Vlaniu'la, *' dcspcnilc litllc hrig.irnl! he has hixn am tug the Anicricanoi ! I.uok, my uncle!" 1 )()n Pedro look the weapon i[iiielly from the brown hands ol Matmela and examined il (oolly. •' II is new, my niece," he respondeti, wilii a sligiil shrug ot his shoulders. "Tiie gloss is .siiil upon its blade. We will take h.m to bed. CKAPIKK XVI I. \m \\\:\\ rilK CHAKMINO MRS. SM'CI.VJOA. If there was a S|)ot (^w earth of which the usual dead monotony ol the California seasons seemetl a |)erfectly (X)nsistent and natural expression, tjial s|)ot was the ancient and time-lu>n()rc(l f^(ti'/>> and Mission of the blessed St. Anthc^iy. The changeless, cloudless, expressionless skies of summer seemed to symbolize that aristocratic conservatism which repelled all innovation, and was its distinguishing mark. The stranger who rode into the M/r/'/(\ in his own conveyance, -for the instincts of San Antonio refused to sanction the introduction of a stage-coach or diligenc e that might bring into the town irres[)onsibIe and vagabond travelers, — read in the faces of the idle, \own^i\\g peons the fact that the great ranchcros who occupied the outlying grants had refused to sell their lands, long before he entered the one short walled street and open])laza, and found that he was in ati)\vn where there was no hotel or tavern, and that he was dependent entirely upon the hospitality of some courteous resident for a meal or a night's k^lging. As he drew rein in the court \ard of the first large adobe dwelling, and received the grave welcome of a strange but kindlv face, he saw around him everywhere the past unchanged. The sun shone as brightly and fiercely on the long red tiles of the hnv roofs, that looked as if they had been thatched with longitudinal olips of cinnamon, even as it had shown for the last hundred years ; the gaunt wolf-like dogs ran out and barked at him as '• i • 'IMF. CHAKMINC. MKS. M.IM IVIPA. ir» v' r tin It lathers a?ul mollicrs had l)arkt.'(l at thr ]'it.rr(hnL; siraiii;t.T ol tu^iitv years l>otorc. There were the few wild hah broken mu^t.iii;4S tethered l)y strong riatas before the veranda of tlie loiiu low Fonda, with the sunh'ght i^dittering on their silver tr.ipi'iiii^s ; there were tlje i)roatl, blank e\i)ansesof whitewashed \idob( wall, as l)arren and guiltless of record as the uneventful davs, as monotonous and e.\i)ressionlessas theslarini.; sky above; there were the white. (lonie-sha{)ed low"-s of the Mission rising above the green of olives and pear-trees, twisted, gnarled and ixnotted with the rheumatism of age ; there was the um hanged firip of narrow white beach, and beyond, the sea-vast, illimi- Uil'Ie. and always the same. The steamers that crept slowly up [he darkening coast line were something remote, unreal, and phantasmal ; since the Philijjpine galleon had left its bleached and broken ribs in the sand in 1640, no vessel had, in the iikinory of man, dr()i)j)od anchor in the open road-stead below the ( urving l\)int of Pines, and the white walls, anil dismounted l«run/.e cannim as the Presidio, that looked l)lankly and hope- Ie.->>ly seaward. lor all this, \\\c pueblo of San Antonio was the (-ynosure of the covetous American, eye. Its vast leagues of fertile soil, its countless herils of cattle, the semi-tropical iuxuri.mcc of its vegetation, the salubrity of its dimate, and the existence oi miraculous mineral springs, were at once a tem])tation and an exasperation to greedy speculators of .San i-rancisco. Hapjuly for San Antonio, its Sfpiare leagues were held by only ew of tlie wealthiest native gentry. I'he ranchos of '' the Hear,'' of the " Holy Fisherman," of "The Blessed Trinity," comj)riscd all of the outlying lands, and their titles were patented and secured to their native owners in the earlier days of the American occupation, while their comparative remoteness from the populous (enters had protected them from the advances of foreign cupidity. But one American had ever enteied upon the i)ossession and enjoyment of this Californian .Vrcadia, and that was the widow of Don Jose Sc]»ulvida. lughteen months ago the excellent Sei)ulvida had flied at the age of eighty-four, and left his charming voung American wife the sole mistress of his vast estate. Attractive, of a jileasant, soi.ial temperament. tliat the Donna Maria should eventually bestow her hand and ♦,.».• • • 1H» (;Al!kJM, (ONRftV. li . i I tlic estat" ii|)()n souk- loscl Anio ican'\ who would W\\V2. ruin in the hollow disguise ol" " iuiprovcinciUs " to ihc cslahhshcd ninl conservative life of San Antonio, was an event to be e\|)ertant to San Antonio, when it was n membered that the lar;;est estate in the valley, the " Rancho oi the Holy Trinity, " was held by another member of this de ceitful sex- the alleged natural hall'-breed daughter of ,i deceased (lovernor — but happily i)reserved from the possibK; fate of the wid(nv by religious [)rc-oc( upation a?id the habits ot a recluse. That the inmy of Providence should leave the fate and future rff San Antonio so largely dependent upon the results of levity, and the caprice of a suscejitiblc sex, gave .a somber tinge to the gossip of the little puchlo if the grave, decorous discussion of Sefiores and Senoras could deserve that name. Nevertheless it was believed by the more devout that a miracul ous interposition would eventually save San Antonio from the Avicricaiios and destruction, and it was alleged that the i)atron saint, himself act omplished in the art of resisting a j)eculiar form of temptation, would not scruple to o[)posc personally any undue weakness of vanity or the Hesh in helpless widowhood. Yet, even the most devout and trustful believers, as they slyly slipi^ed aside vail or manta, to keep furtively at the Donna Maria entering chapel, in the heathenish abominations of a Parisian dress and bonnet, and a f;ice rosy with self-conscious ness and innocent satisfaction, felt their hearts sink within them, and turned their eyes in mute sup])lication to the gaunt, austere patron saint pictured on the chancel wall above them, who, clutching a skull and crucifix as if for sup))ort. seemed to glare upon the pretty stranger with some trepidation and a possible doubt of his being al)le to resist the newer temptation. As far as was consistent with Spanish courtesy, the Donna Maria was subject to a certain mild esi)ionage. It was even hinted by some of the more conservative that a duetma was absolutely essential to the propef decorum of a lady rel)resentin^7 k . rilK CIIARMIN*; \IH>. SKl'l IVIhA. 117 'V • r . siK h Inrcjc social interests ns the widow Sepulvida, although (cii.iin luisbands, who liad already siiflered troin the imi)ertect protection of this sal'e^nuird, offered some objection. lUit the pretty widow, when this proposition was gravely offered by her gh(»tiy confessor, only shook her head and laiigiied. "A husband is the best duenna, I'ather Kelii)e," she said archly, and the conversation ended. Perhaps it was a> well tiiat the gossips of San Antonio did not know how imminent was their danger, or how ( losely im- periled were the vast social interests of the pu<:blo on the 3rd (hiy of June, ICS54. It was a l)right, clear morning -so clear that the (listin« t peaks of the San llruno mountains seemed to have encroached iijjon the SaJi Antonio valley overnight- so clear that the hori/on line of the vast ra( ilic seemed to take in half the globe be- yond. It was a morning, cold, hard, and material as granite, yel with a certain mica sparkle in its quality— a morning full ol practical animal life, in whi(h bodily exerci.se was absolutely essential to its perfec t understanding and enjoyment. It was scarcely to be wontlered that the Donna Maria Sepulvida, who was returning from a visit to her steward and major domo, attended by a single vaquctw should have thrown the reins for- ward on the neck of her yellow mare, "'i'ita," and dashed at a wild galloj) down the white strip of beach that curved from the garden wall of the Mission to the Point of IMnes, a leagut:- be- yond. " Concho," the venerable Tacjin'ro, after vainly endeavor- ing to keej) pace with his mistress's fiery steed, and still more tapri( ious fancy, shrugged his shoidders, anc' suUsided into a trot, and was soon lost among the shifting san I dunes. Com- pletely carried away by the exhilarating air and intoxication ol the exercise, the Donna M;fria — with her 'orown hair shaken loose from the confinement of her little velvet hat, the whole of a pretty foot, and at times, I fear, part of a synnnetrical ankle vJMble below the Hying folds of her gray riding-skirt, tleckeil here and there with a rac ing spume of those Homeric .seas — at la^t reached the " Toinl of Pines" whiih defined the limits ot the peninsula, lUit when the gentle Mistress Sepulvida was within a hun- dred yards of the Point she expected to round, she Ji.iw, with IIH r.MSKIH (f»NHOV. I K II' I ^ '■ I , ' ,1 * , soiiif « h;i,L;nn, thiit the tide \v;)s n|., .uid tliat v;\( li (l;isli of iht brc.ikin^^ seas sent a lliin, rca« hin^ iiliii of sinning' waicr u]) t.. the very roots of the i)inc's. 'I'o her still lnrther disc onirmiii'. she saw aUo that a smart looking «;avalier had likewise reiiud in his horse on the other side of the Point, and was evidrnth wat( hill}; her niowmeiits with great inteii'st, and, as she leaiid, with some amusriaciU. To go i)a( k would l»c to be follouid l)v this stranger, and to meet the cynical hut res|)ectfiil ohs, : vation of ('oncho; to go forward, at the worst, could be onlv a slight wetting, and a canter beyond tlu' reach of observation and the stranger, who could not in decency turn back after Iwr All this Donna Maria saw with the swiftness of femininr in tuition, and, without a|)])ari,'ntlv any hesitation in her face or her intent, dashed into tiie surf below the Point. Alas for feminine logic. ! Mistress Sej)ulvi(la's reasoning wa^ perfe< t. but her jjremises were wrong. Tita's first dash was a brave one, and carried her half round the Point, the next \va> a simple llounder : the next struggle sunk her to her knees, iho next to her hatiiv lies. She was in a (juicksand ! " Let the horse i^). Don't' struggle ! 'lake the end of your riata. Throw yourself Hat on the next wave, and let it take you out to sea!" Donna Maria mechanically loosed the coil of hair rope whi( h hung over the i)ommel of her saddle. Then she looked around in the direction of the voice, lint she saw only a riderless horse, moving slowly along the Point. "(Juickl Now then!" The voice was seaward now; where, to her frightened fancy, some one ai)i)eared to be swim- ming. Donna Maria hesitated no longer; with the recoil of the next wave, she threw herself forward, and was carried float- ing a few yards, and dropi)ed again on the treacherous sanil. " Don't move, but keej) your grip on the riata !" The next -wave would have carried her back, but she Ivuui to comprehend, and, assisted by the yielding sand, held hor own and her breath until the under-tow sucked her a few yards seaward ; the sand was firmer now ; she floated a lew yards further when her arm was seized; she was consi ious of beinu im])elled swiftly through the water, of being dragged out of iln' surge, of all her back hair coming down, that she had lett iic: "• . IIIK CHAKMINJ; MKs. SKIMlf.VII»A. II!» hoots luliiru! luT in the (|iiw i -.iml. lli.ii litT ; r' iirr w.i . a straiiucr and n yoiin^' niiin ;in(l ihcn slu' f-iinlcd W hen slie opcnccl her brDwn eyes a^mw she w.^s lyinj^' on the dry s.ukI l)ey()n(J the I'oint, and the yoiin^' man was on thi- ht'.u h l)clo\v her, hohhn}; l)oth the horses — his own and 'I'ita I •' 1 took tlie opportunity of j^ettinj^ your horse out. I\.ehe\ ey the tide, he j^ot lii'. loot over the riata, and Cliarley and I i)ulled him uul. If I am nut mis- taken, this is Mrs. Scpulvida ?" Donna Maria assented in surjirise. "And 1 imagine this is your man rominj to look for yon." He pointed to Cone lio, who was slowly making his way among the sand (Umes toward the J*oint. '' Li-t me assist you on youi horse again. lie need not know nobody need know the ixtent of your disaster." Donna Maria, still i)cwildered, {permitted Iierselfto be assisted to her saddle again, despite the conseciuent terrible revelation of her shoeless feet. Then she became conscious that she had not thanked her deliverer, and jjroceeded to do so with sue h emharrassment that the stranger's laughing interrui)tion was a positive relief. " V'ou would thank me l)etter if you were to set off in a sting- ing gallop over those sun-baked, oven-like .sand-hills, and so slave off a chill ! For the rest, 1 am Mr. J'oinsett, one ot sour late husband's legal .advisers, here on business that will m<-st likely bring us together 1 trust nnu h mcjie i)leasantly to you than this, (jood morning!" He had already mounted his horse, and was lifting his hat. Doima Maria was not a very clever woman, but she was bright enough to see that his business brusqiicrie was either the con- cealment of a man shy of women, or the im])ertinence of one too familiar with them. In either cases it was to be resented. How did she do it ? Ah me I She took the jnost favorable hypothesis. She jKiuted, 1 regret to say. Then she said : *' It was all vour fault 1" "How?" "Why, if you hadn't stood there, looking at me and • 1:^0 (iAIJRII.I, CONkUV» CIIAI^TER XVIIU KATIIII. IKI.ll'K. ■ 1 ■ *<•( }f^ VVuFN Arthur Poinsett, after an hour's rapid riding over the scorching sand-hills, finally drew u]i at the door of the Mission Refectory, he had so far i)r()fited !)> his own advice to Donna Maria as to be quite tlry, and to exhibit very little extetn.i trace ot his late adventure. It is more remarkable peiiiai^ that there was very little internal evidence either. No one who did not know the ])eculiar selt-sufficiency of Poinsett's individuality would be able to understand the singular niejital and moral adjustment of a man keenly alive to all new and present imjjressions, and yet able to dismiss them entirely. without a sense of responsibility or inconsistency. Thai Poinsett thought twice of the woman he had rescued — that he ever rellected again on the possibilities or natural logic of his act — during his ride, no one who thoroughly knew him vvoiiltl believe. When he first saw Mrs. Sepulvida at the Point o! Pines, he was considering the possible evils oi .;dvantages of a change in the conservative element of San Antonio ; when he left her, he returned to the subject again, and it fully occupied his thoughts until Father Feli|)e stood before him in the door of the refectory. I do not mean to say that he at all ignored a certain sense of sell\gratulation in the act, but I wish to convey the idea that all other considerations were subordinate to this sense. And possihly also the teeling, unexpressed, however, by any look or manner, that if /w was .satisfied, everybody else ought to be. If Donna Maria had thought his general address a little toe irreverent, she would have been surprised at his greeting willi Father Felii)e. His whole manner was changed to one o( courteous and even reverential consideration, of a boyish faith and trustfulness, of ])erfect confidence and self-forgetlulness, and moret)ver was perfectly sincere. She would have bee more surprised to have noted thai the objec" of .Arlhu:'? earnestness was an old man, and that beyond a certain geiuie ^Al^^k urirr. 121 and* oiiitooiis niannor nnd ivtlncd bearing, he was iinpic luiesiiuc and odd-fashioned in dress. sniilTy in the sleeves, and possessed and inhal)ited a pair of slK)es so large, sha[)eless, and incon- sistent with the usual reiiuirenients of that article as to be i,'rotcs([iie. It was evident that Arthur's manner had previously predisposed the old man in his favor. He held out two soft brown hands to the voting man, addressed him with a pleasant smile as " Aly son," and welcomed him to the Mission. "And why not this visit before?" asked Father relipe, when they were seated upon the little veranda that overlooked the Mission garden, before their < hocolate and cii::;ar/tos. *' I did not know I was coming until day before vesterday. It seem:; that some new grants of the old ex-CrOvernor's have been discovered, and that a i)atent is to be aj)plied for. My partners being l)usy, I was deputed to come here and look up the matter. To tell the truth, 1 was glad of an excuse to see our fair client, or, at least, be disajjpointed as my juirtners have been in obtaining a glimpse of the mysterious Donna Dolores." "Ah, my dear Don Arturo," said the Padre, with a slightly deprecatory movement of his l)rown hands, "I fear you will be no more fortunate than others. It is a j)enitenti/d week with the i)()or child, and at such times she refuses to see any one, even on business. Believe me, my dear l)oy, you, like the others — more than the others - permit your imagination to nm away with your judgment. Donna Dolores' concealment of her face is not to heighten or tempt the masculine curiosity, but, alas ! ]>oor child — is only to hide the heathenish tattooings that deface her cheek. N'ou know she is a half- I'rced. Believe me, you are all wrong. It is foolish, perhaps vanity who knows? but she is nwoinan—wh^iX. would you?" (ontinued the sagacious Padre, emphasizing the substantive with n slight shrug worthy of his patron saint. " Hut they say, for all that, she is very beautiful," continued Arthur, with that niis< hievousness which was his habitual method ot entertaining the earnestness of others, and which he could not entirely forego, even with the Padre. " So ! so ! Don Arturo— it is idle gossip !" said Father Felipe, 1 I * ' ^■■1 1 • • 122 GABRIKL CONKON, impatiently, — " .i brown Tndiiin girl with a rhcc.^ as tnwnv a,> the summer fukJs." Arthur made a t^rimace thai niii;ht ha\e been either of assent or deprecation. " Well, T suppose this means that I am to look owr tlk pa|:)eni with ivv/ alone. lUicuo ! Have them out, and kl us get over this business as soon as j)ossible.'' ** FoiO tieni/n),'' said lather Felipe, with a smile. Then uiorr gravely, " Hut what is this? Vou do not seem to have th.u interest in your profession that one might exj)e(t of the risiii- young advocate — -the junior partner of the great hrm you repre- sent. Your heart is not in your work — eh?" Arthur laughed. " Why not ? It is as good as any." *' Ikit to right the oppressed? To do justice to the unjiistlv accused, eh ? To redress wrongs - ah, my son I t/t. t is noble. That, Don Arturo — it is that has made you and your colleaijuts dear to me — dear to those who have been the helpless victims of your courts — your corrci^^idores.'''' " Yes, yes," interrupted Arthur, hastily, shedding the Father's praise with an habitual deft ease that was not so much the result of modesty as a certain conscious pride that resented anv imperfect tribute. "Yes, I sui)pose it pays as well, if not bet- ter, in the long run. ' Honesty is the best policy,' as our earliest philosophers say." " Pardon?" (queried the Padre. Arthur, intensely amused, made a purposely severe and literal translation of Franklin's famous ajjothegm, and then watched Father Felipe raise his eyes and hands to the ceiling in pious protest and mute consternation. •" And these are your American ethics?" he said at last. ** They are, and in conjunction with manifest destiny and the Star of Empire they have brought us here, and — have given mc the honor of your accjuaintance," added Arthur in English. Father Felipe looked at his friend in hoi)eless bewilderment. Arthur instantly became respectful and Spanish. To change the subject and relieve the old man's evident embarrassment. he at once plunged into a humorous description of his adven- ture of the morning. The diversion was only partially sucv-csi- I lAlHl K 111,11'K. 1 •>•> 111). I'athor Fcli|)c l)ccamc at once intercstt;(l. l)m did not I.iiiuli. When the yoimg man had concluded he approached him, and laying his soft hand on Arthurs curls, turned his face ii|.\v,ird toward him with a j)arental gesture, that was at once habitual and professional, and said : '• I-uok at me here. lam an old man, Don Arluro. I'ar- {{•m rne if I think 1 have some advice to give you that may he worthy your hearing. T-isten then I You are one of those iiicn ( ajxible of peculiarly affe< ting and being affe( ted by wo- men. So I Pardon," he continued gently, as a slight tUish rose into Arthur's ( heek, desj)ite the smile that came as (juickly to hf^ tace. " Is it not so? I>e not ashamed. Don Arturo ! It is not here," he added, with a poetical gesture toward the wall of the refectory, where hung the painted effigy of the bless- ed St. Anthony, " it is not here that 1 would undervalue or s|)eak lightly of their intluence. The widow is rich, eh? — handsome, eh? impulsive? Vou have no heart in the profe.s- sion \i)U have chosen. What then? You have some in the instincts — what shall I say ? — the accomplishments and graces you have not considered worthy of a practical end ! You are a natural lover. Pardon ! You have the four S's— ' Sono, so/<>. .\iiIiiito y, st'Lfdto.' (jood ! Take an old man's advice, and make good use of them. Turn your weaknesses — eh? per- haps it is too strong a word ! — the frivolities and vanities of your youth into a power for your old age ! Kh ?" Arthur smiled a superior smile. He was thinking of the horror with which the old man had received the axiom he had recently (juoted. He threw himself back in his chair in an attitiide of burlLS([ue sentiment, and said with simulated iieioics : • llul what, O my Father! what if a devoted, exhausting passion for somebody else alreacJy filled my heart? \'()U woidd not ailvise me to be false to that. Perish the thought I"' Father Felipe did not smile. A peculiar vXpression passed over liis broad, brown, smoothly shaven face, and the habitual look of childlike simplicity and deferential courtesy faded from it. Fie turned his small f)lack eyes on Arthur and said : '• Do you think you are capable of such a passion, my son? •* k -» ' i. ii!'! ' *«* 121 (T.AKKIFI, CONKOV. Have you had an attiuhmcnt that was superior to novilivor sclf-intcrost ? " Arthur rose a little stiffly. *' As we are talking of one of my clients and one of voiir parishioners, are we not getting a little too serious, Fatlicr? At all events, save me from assuming a bashful attitude toward the lady with whom I am to iiave a business interview to-mor- row. And now about the papers. Father,'"' contimied Anhur, recovering his former ease. " 1 suppose the invisible fair one has supi)lied you with all the necessary documents and the fullest material for a brief. Go on. I am all attention." "■ V'ou are wrong again, son," said Father i^elipe. "It is a matter in which she has shown even more than her usual disin- clination to talk. 1 believe but for my interference she would have even refused to press the claim. As it is, I imagine she wishes to make some compromise with the thief pardon me! — the what do you i^ay ? eh ? the preeinptor ! liut I have nothing to do with it. All the papers, all the facts are in the possession of your friend, Mrs. Sepulvida. You are to sec her. Believe me, my friend, if you have been disapj)ointed in not finding your Indian client, you will have a charming subsiiuite — and one ot your own race and color — in the Donna Mario. Forget, if you can, what I have said ! — but you will not. Ah, Don Arturo, 1 know you better than yourself. Come, l.ctus walk in the garden. You have not seen the vines. I have a new variety of grape since you were here before." "J find nothing better than the old Mission grape, Father." siad Arthur, as they i)assed down the branching avenue of olives. " Ah ! Yet the aborigines knew it not. And only valiud it when found wild, for the coloring matter contained in its skin. I'Yom this, with some mordant that still remains a secret with them, they made a dye to stain their bodies and heighten tlieir copper hue. You are not listening, Don Arturo, yet it sliouid interest you, for it is the color of your mysterious client, the Donna I )()l()res." Thus chatting, and pointing out the various objects that might interest Arthur, from the overflowing boughs of a vi,ner- able fitr-trce to the crack made in the adobe wall of the (hutch H i ■ ^ • t FA rm R i I 1 ii'K. 125 1)V liic last carlh<|uake, Father I'clipc, with charac tciistic ( our- tcoii.-' forniahty, led his young tricnd tliror.gh the ancient u'anKn of the Mission. By degrees, the former ease and iiiiitual (ontidence of the two friends returned, and l)y the time that l-ather Fehpe excused hiniseU'fora few moments to attv-nd lo (crlain domestic arrangements on behalf of his new guest, |i(.rte(t sympathy had i)een restored. Lett to iiimself, Arthur strolled back until op[)osite the open ( hancel door of the church. liere he paused, and, in ()l)edi- fiii c to a sudden im])ulse, entered. The old church was un- ( handed- like all things in San Antonio — since the last hun- (lii'd years ; perhaps there was little about it that Arthur had not seen at the other Missions. There were the old rafters painted in barbaric splendor of red and brown stripes; there were the hideous, waxen, glass-eyed saints leaning fonvard help- lessly and rigidly from their niches; there was the Virgin Mary in a wiiite dress and satin slijipers, carrying the infant Saviour in the t)i)ulence of la( e long-clothes ; there was the Magdalen in the fashionable costume of a Spanish lady of the last cen turv. There was the ustial quantity of bad ])ictiues ; the i)or- trait. full length, of the ])atron saint himself, so hideously and •gratuitously old and ugly that his temj)tation by any self-res])ect- ing woman ai)peared more miraculous than his resistance ; the usual martyrdoms in terrible realism; the usuai " Last Judg- niLiits '' in frightful accuracy of detail. lUit there was one picture under the nave vdiich attracted Arthur's listless eyes. It was a fanciful representation of Juni- licro Serra preaching to the heathen. I am afraid that it was nut the figure of that most admirable and herjic missionary whiih drew Arthur's gaze ; I am (piite ( ertain that it was not the moral sentiment of the subject, but rathir the slim, grace- ful, uirlish, half-nude figure of one of thv Indi.-in converts who kiult at Father Junipero Serra's feet, in child-like but touching awe and contrition. i'here was such a depth of {)eniteutial NUpplication in the }"oung girl's eyes - a ])enitence so i)atheti- rally inconsistent with the absolute virgin iimcx enc". and help- k'ssness of the ex(iuisite little figure, that Arthur felt his heart Ivat nuickl)- as he gazeil. He turned t|Ui( klv to the otlu i pu i' 4''- i ■ . •'■ It' •■• 12f) f.ArjRir.i, coNROV. i. "■■ . ) *■ -11 \ ..i uiiij look wlicre lie would, the t'Vi.s(»f the little acolyte seemed tf) follow and subdue him. I think I have already intimated that his was not a reveren- tial nature. With a cjuiek iniap;ination and i^reat poetic sensi- bilitv, ne\crlheless, the evident intent of the ]mtare, or even the sentiment of the place, did not tou( h his heart or brain. l)Ut he still half-unconsciously dro])ped into a seat, and, leaninj,^ both arms over the screen before him, bowed his head a,ti;ain>t the oa':en panel. A soft hand laid ujion his shoulder s'uldeiilv aroused him. He looked u]) sharplv and met the eyes of the Padre looking down on him with a tenderness that both touched and exasj)er ated him. "Pardon!" said Padre Felipe, i.,a'ntly, " I have broken in ui)on your thoughts, child ! " A little more brusfiuely than was his habit with the Padio, Arthur exjilained that he had been siudyini; u\) a (lifti( iilt case. " So!" said the Padre sofll\, in resi)onse. " With tears in your eyes. Don Arturo ? Not so ! '' he added to himself, as he drew the yount, man's arm in his own and the two passed slowly out once mc^-e into tiie sunlight. CTIAPTKR XTX. .i'ttii. .'♦■•! IN WHICH THF D'^NN'A MAIUA MAKRS AN IM I'RnSRlUN. The Rancho of the Blessed Fisherman looked senrvard ns became its title. Jf the founder of the rancho had shown a wW- gious taste in the selection of the site of the dwelling, his charmnii; widow had certainly shown e(iual j)ractical taste, and indeed .1 profitable availing of some acUantages thai the founder did not contem])late, in the adornment of the house. The low-wallcd sijuare (iif(^/'r dwelling had been relieved of nnich of its h.iid prai;tii al outli.ne by se\eral fi-minine addition^ and surfLn'stin!'^ IN WHICH IHK DONNA MAkiA MAICES AN iMPRKSSlON. 127 The tiled roof had been rarried ovor a very broad veranda siij)ported by vine-clad coliinins. and the loun^Mn£( corridor had l)eon, in ddianee of all Spanish custom, transferred from the inside of the house to the outside. 'l"he interior <()urt yard no lonrjcr existed. 'Ihe sonibri'iiess of the heavy Mexican architecture was relieved by bright French chint/es, delicate lace curtains, and fresh colored hanL,^in^fs. The broad veraniia was filled with the later novelties of Chinese bamboo chairs and settees, and a strii)ped Venetian awninj^ shaded the glare of the seaward front. Nevertheless, Donna Maria, out of rcs|)c< t to the hx al o|)i«nion. which regarded these changes as ominous of if not a synibolical putting off the weeds of widow- hood, still clung to a few of ilie local traditions. It is true thai a piano occupied one side of her drawing-room, but a harp •^lood in the corner. It" a freshly cut novel lay open on the jiiano, a breviary was couspi(Mious oil the marble center table. If. on the mantle, an elaborate V'rench (lock with bronze shepherdesses trilled with Time, on the wall above it an iron diuifix spoke of h'.ternity. Mrs. Sepulvida was at home that morning exj^ecting a guest. .She was lying in a Manilla hammock swung between two i)osts of the veranda, with her face j)artially hidden by the netting, and the toe of a little shoe just i)eeping beyond. Not that Donna .Maria expected to receive her gu^st thus ; on the (ontrarv. she had given orders to her servants that the moment a stranger cahalU'ro a))])eared t)n the road she was to be apprised of the fact. For 1 grieve to say that, far 'from taking .Arthur's advice, the details of the adventure at the Point of Pines had been imjiarted by her own lips to most of her tomale friends, and even to the domestics of her household. In tlie earlier stages of a woman's interest in a man she is apt to he exceedingly communicative ; it is only when she becomes fiiily aware of the gravity of the stake involved that she begins to hedge before the i)ublic. The morning after her adventure Donna M.-j-ia was innocently full of its hero and unreservedly volu'hle. I liave forgotten whether I have described her. Certainly I tiuild not have a better o])])ortunity than the -[jresent. In the h.unmock she looked a little smaller, as wcmien are vipt to * * ;1- * ! I . K ■ ■ r I* 128 OAHKIKI. CONKOV. when their Icnijjth is rigidly dtTin "(l. She had the .iver.im' of dei)ression at those corners. It bore witness to the fondness of the deceased for bear-baiting and bullfighting, and a possible weakness for a certain Senora X. of San Franc isco, whose reputation was non. of the best, and was not increased by her distance from San Antonio and the surveillance of Donna Maria. \\'hen an hour later " Pepe " a])j)cared to his mistress, bearing a salver with Arthur Poinsett's business card and a formal re([uest for an interview, 1 am afraid Donna Maria \va> a little disapi)ointe(l. If he had suddenly scaled the veranda, evaded her servants, and ai)i)eared before her in an impulsive, forgivable way, it would have seemed consistent .with hi> character as a hero, and perhaps more in keeping with the general tenor of her reveries when the servitor entered. How beit, after heaving an impatient little sigh, and bidding "Pejje" show the gentleman into the drawing-room, she slipped AN IM l'kl.>>h iK. 12!» V r ■ lifst «»i his many humors, lie had read in the eves of the loiin.uinj; TiK/ueros, in the <()vert glan< es of the woiwen serv.mts, that the story of his adventure was known to the liouseliold. Habitually ])etted and sjioiled as he had been i)V the women of his a< e. Arthur had resolved to limit the interview to die practical business on hand, and in so doing had. for a moment, I fear, forgotten his native couitesv. It did not tend to lessen his irritation and self consciousness when Mrs. Sej)ulvi(la entered the room without the slightest evidence of her recent disa])pointnient visible in her i)eri'ectiy easy, frank self i)ossession, and after a conventional halt-Spanish solicitousness regarding his health since their last interview, without any further allusions to their adventure, hogged him to be seated. She herself took an easy chair on the ()pj)o. te side of the table, and assumed at once an air of resj)ectt"ul but somewhat indifferent attention. " I believe," said Arthur, ])lunging at out e into his subject to get rid of his embarrassment and the slight instinct of antagonism he was beginning to feel toward the woman before liini, "1 believe — that is, J am told- that besides your ()wn business, vou are intrusted with some do( unients and facts regarding a claim of the Donna Dolores Salvatierra. Which shall we have first ? 1 am entirelv at your service for the next two hours, but we shall proceed faster and with less confusion hy taking up one thing at a time.'' "'I'hen let us begin with Donna Dolores, by all means," said honna Maria; " Mv own affairs can wait. Indeed," she added languidly, " 1 dare say one of Nour < lerks could attend to it as well as yourself. If your time is valuable- as indeed it must he — 1 can ])ut the papers in his hands and make him listen t(» all my toolisli, irrelevant talk. lie < an sift it lor you, Dv)n Arturo. I really am a (hild about business, really." Arthur smiled and made a slight gesture of deprecation. lu s|)ite of his pre\ious resolution. Donna Maria's tone ol ,♦ ' •i- v.\o (;AHkIKi, CONROV. slight jtifiuc pleased him. Vet he gravely opened his nf»;c i)()()k, and look up his pcM( il without a word. Donna Maii.i observed the inovmients, and said more seriously : " Ah yes ! how foolish ! Here 1 am talking about mv own affairs, when 1 should be speaking of Donna Dolores'. Well, to begin. Let mc llrst explain why she has put this matter m my hands. My husband and her father were friends, antl had many business interests in (ommon. As you have doubtless heard, she has always bei-n very quiet, very reserved, V( ly religious almost a nun. I dare say she was driven into tins isolation by reason of the delicacy of her position here, for vou know — do you not?— that her mother was an Indian. It is only a few years ago that the old (iovernor. becoming a widower and childless, bethought himself of this Indian chiM, Dolores. Me found the mother dead, and the girl living somewhere at a distant Mission as an acolvte. He brought her to San Antonio, had her baptized and christened, and made legally his daughter and heiress. She was a mere slip of a thing, about fourteen or fifteen. She might have had a pretty complexion, for some of these half-breeds are nearlv white, but she nad been stained when an iniant with some barbarous and indellible dye, after the savage custom of her race. She is now a light copi)er color, not unlike tho->e bron/e shepherdesses on yonder (lock. In spite of all this I call her, ))retty. Perhai)s it is because I love her and am prejudiced. But you gentlemen are so critical about complexion and color -no worlder that the i)oor child refuses to see any- bodv, and never goes into society at all. It is a shame! But — pardon. Mr. Poinsett, here am 1 gossiping about your client's looks, when I should be stating her grievances ! " " No, no !" said .Arthur hastily, "go on — in your own way." Mrs. Sepulvida lifted herforefmger archly. "Ah ! is it so, Don Arturo? I thought .so ! Well, it is a a great shame that she is not here for you to judge for yoursclt." Angry with himself for his embarrassment, and for the rising color on his cheek. Arthur would have explained himself, but the lady, with feminine tact, did not i)ermit him. "To proceed : Partly because 1 did not participate in th ]»rejudices with which the old families here regarded her ra ( t' IN WHK II TIIK DONNA MARIA MARKS AN IMPRK»I<)N. 131 and M.lor. jinrtly, i)orliai)s, because wc wcrehotli st!aM,L;frs here, wc l>r( aiuc tiicnds. At first she resisted all my advances — indeed, I tiiiiik she was more shy of mc than the others, but I tniiiniihed in time, and uc became ^ood friends. I'Viciuls, you understand, Mr. Poinsett, not cotifu/d/its. V'ou men, 1 know, (k-cii) this imi)ossil)le, l)Ut Donna Dolores is a singular girl, and I h.ivc never, e.\< e|»l ujjon the most general tojiics, won her fnnii h-'r i)al)itual reserve. And J possess i)erha|)s her only fricn(Mii|). "lA(ei)t I'ather I'elipe. her confessor ? " Mtn. Se|)ulvida shrugged lier shoulders, and then borrowed the h.ihitual ske])ti< al Ibrnuda of San Antonio. " Quit II sii/'c/ iJul 1 am rambling again. Now for the rase " She rose, and taking from a drawer of the se( retary an envelope, drew out some papers it contained, and referred lo them as slie went on. " It ai)pears that a grant of Michcltorcna to Salvaticrra was discovered recently at Monterey, a grant ol which there was no rtMord among Salvatierra's j^apers. The explanation given is that it was placed some five years ago in trust with a Don Pedro Riii/. of San I'fancisco, as security lor a lease now expired. The grant is a])parently regular, proj)erly witnessed, and attested. Don Pedro has written that some of the witnesses are still alive, anil remember it.'' '•Then why not make a i)roper application for a patent ? " '• Prue, but if that were all. Don Arturo would not have been siiiiimoned from San I''rancisco for consultation. 'Phere is sonietiung else. Don Pedro writes that another grant for the the same land has been disccnered recorded to another party." •• That Is, 1 am sorry to say. not a singular ex|)erience in our prolession," said Arthur, with a smile. '• Put Salvatierra's known reputation and ])robity would probably be sutilicient to outweigh e(|ual do( umentary evidence on the other side. It's unloriutiate he's dead, and the grant was disc oNcred after his de;illi." '• Put the holder ol" tlie other grant is dead, loo ! " said the \vidt>\\. •• I'hat makes it about equal again. Put who is h(^ i^" Mrs. Se])ulvida referred to her i)apers, and ilu-n said. < . . "i . GAURIKI, ( ONHOV. teji ^ 1 -I *' I )r I )rv.iri;'('s." " I )<.v;ir^cs," said Mrs. Sc'i>ulvi(la. ri-lrrntii,' to her notPS. '• .\ siiij^ular name a fon-i^iKT, I sU])|k)sc. No, really, Mr. I'oiii^itt you shall not look at the paper until I iiave copied it it's written horribly you (%in't understand it! J am really ash;uiu(| of iry writing. i)Ut I was in such a hurry, expectini; you evi-ry in(,'iient ! Why, la ! Mr. I'oinselt, how ut the widow did not seem inclined to go on. She wis positive that Arthur wanted some wine. Would he not let her order some slight re|)ast before they pn^ceeded furthei' in this horrid business? She was tired. She was «.,inte sure thai Arthur must be so too. " It is my business.'' said Arthur, a little stiffly, but. recover ing himself again in a sudden and new alarm of the widow, lie smiled and suggesied that the sooner the business was over, the sooner he would be able to partake of her hospitality. The widow beamed prospectiveJy. " There are no heirs that we c^n find. l»ut there is a what do you call it ? —a something or other — in i)ossession ! " " A s(]uattev ?" said Poinsett, shortlv. " Yes,'' continued the widow with a light laugh; "a 'squatter.' by the name of —of — my writing is so horrid — let me see, oli. yes! '(labriel Conroy.'" Arthur niade an involuntary gesture toward the ]iaper with his hand, but llie widow mischii'\niisl\ skipped toward tin IN W IIH II MM I'oWA M \KI \ \l \ K I >> \\ IMI Kl ^s|i,S. I.i.i wiiiiliivv. and. liu kil\ tor llu' sj»c(ta« U- of" his MiumIKss i.uw luld i!)i paper l)ct"ure her (Uini)lc(l Wu c aiul iaiighinu; eyes, as she (lid -t». "(ial)riel Conroy," repealed Mrs. Sepiilvida, *• and and — anil his- ■• Ills sister,' said Aithur, with an et'lort. "No, sir!" resjxiMtled Mrs. Sepulvida, with a slij^ht poiii. "his 7i'/Yi' / Sister indeed I As if we married wcinen arc al\v.i\s to be ignored l)y you legal gentlemen I" Ailhur rem. lined silent, with his lace turned toward the sea. Win n he did speak his voice was <|iiite natural. '• Might I change my mind regarding your oiler ot a moment ag(». and lake a glass of wine and a bisc uil now ?" Mrs. Sepulvida ran to the door. •• Let me look o\er your notes while you arc gone!'' said Arthur. '• \ ()U won't laugh at my writing?" N o I M Molina Maria tossed him the envelope pnyly and Hew out of the room. Arthur hurried to the window with the (ovcted memoranda. There were the names she had given him- but nothing more ! At least this was some slight relief. The suddenness of the shock, rather than anv moral senti- ment or fear, had upset him. Like most imaginnti\e men, he was a tririe superstiti(jus, and with the first mention . business, and whose time was so precious that he must re turn even before the business was concluded. And then " I'epe " could toUow them, to return with her ! 1 did not. of course, occur to either Arthur or Donna Maria that they might outrun " Pepe," who was fat and indisposed to violent exertion ; nor that they should find other things to talk about than the details of business; nor that the afternoDn should be so marvelously beautiful as to cause them to trequen'l\ stop and admire the sLrelch of gUllcring sea beyond; nor that % Tin: !..\i)\ OK (,Rn K. 135 the nuir of the w.ncs was so dcnrL':iing as tr) oblige *.hcm to keep so near each other for the purposes of conversation that the widow's soft breath was continually upon Arthurs cheek; nor that Donna Maria's saddle "irth should beconie so loose that she was forced lo dismount while Arthur tightened it, and that he should be obliged to lift her in his arms to restore her to :icr seat, again. But finally, when the Point of Pines was safely niunded, and Arthur was delivering a few parting words of legal counsel, holding one of her hands in his, while with the other he was untwisting a long tress of her blown-down hair, that, after buffeting his cheek into color, had suddenly twined itself aroimd his neck, an old-fashioned family carriage, drawn |)\ four black mules with silver harness, passed them suddenly on the road. I )oniKi Maria drew her head and her hand away with a quick blush and laugh, and then gayly kissed her finger-tij)s to the retreating carriage. Arthur laughed also— bui; a little foolishly - and looked as if expecting some explanation. " Vou should have your wits about you, sir. Did you know who that was?" Arthur sincerely confessed ignorance. He had not noticed the carriage until it had passed. '* Think what you have lost I That was your fair young .lient." *' I did not even see her," laughed Arthur. " But she saw you I She never took her eves uiif you. Adios!" ;4 t' .• chapit:r xx. THK I.ADV OF GRIKF. '' Vou V.I 11 not go to-day," said Father Felipe to Arthur, as Ik entered the Mission refectory early the ncs.i morning to breakfast. "I shall be on tne road in ca\ hour, Father," repHed Arthi"-, gayly. \ ^ i l.'.H GAhKi::i, r.oNKi>\- • •. -I • 4 11- " lUit n«)t toward San Francisco," said tlic l\idrc'. " Listen' Your wish ot yesterday lias been attained. \'ou are to haw y(nir tlesired interview wi^il the lair invisible. Uo you compre- hend ? Donna Dolores has sent for you." Arthur looked Up in sur|)rise. Perhajts his foce did not ex- press as much pleasure as Father Felipe expected, who littcd his eyes to the ceilinfjj, took a {philosophical pincli ot snutT and nuittered : " A/i, lo (jKc t's c! jihinido ! — Now that he has his wish - it is nothings Mother of (lod I"' ' "'I'his is iw//' kindness, Father," *' ( iod torbid," returned Padre Felipe, hastily. " Believe nio, my son, 1 know nothing. When the Donna left here before the Afii:;f/us yesterday, slic said nothing oi this. Perhaps it '\- the office of your triend, Mrs. Sepulvida.'' 'Mlardly, 1 tliink," said .Vrtliur ; "she was so well prejjared with all the facts as lo render an interview with Donna Dolores unnecessary. Bueno., be it so ! I will go." Nevertheless, he was ill at ease. He ate httle, he was silent. All the fears he had argued away with such self-satisfied l()j,'ir the day before, returned to him again with greater anxiety. Could there have been any further 111 (is regarding this inouportune grant that Mrs. Sei)ulvida hail not disclosed? Was there anv j)articiilar reason why this strange recluse, who had hitherto avoided his necessary professional presence, should now desire a personal interview which was not aj)parently necessary i* Could it be possible that c opiinurucation had already been estai)hshed with (jabriel or (Jrace and that the history of their previous life had become k own to his client? Had his ( on nection with it been in any way revealed lolhe Donna Dolores? If he had been able to conleiiiplate this last i>ossibility with calmness and courage yesterday when Mrs, Sepulvida first re- peated the name ol" (iabriel C'onroy, was he capable of efjiial xesigr.ation port' ? Had anything occurred since then ? liad any new resolution entered his head to which such a revel.i tion would be fatil -* Nonsense ! And yet he could not hel|i commenting, with more or less vague uneasiness of mind, on his chance meeting of Donna Dolores at the Point of I'incs yesterday and the summons of this morning. Would no; iii~ THK I.ADY OF GklKF. V^t • l.iMcn' J to ll.lVt comprc- d not e.\ 'ho lifted sniitt and ttuli.^li attitude with Dcua Maria, aided, perhaps, by some in- (iiscroct expression from the well-meaning but senile Padre Felipe, be sufficient to exasperate his fair client had she been (ogni/.mt of his first relations with Grace ? It is not mean natures alone that are the most suspicious. A quick, gener- ous, imagination, feverishly excited, will project theories ot chara( ter and intention far more ridiculous and uncomplimen uiry to humanity than the lowest surmises of ignorance and im- becility. Arthur was feverish and excited ; with all the instincts of a contradictory nature, his easy sentimentalism dreaded, while his comba*^ive principles longed for, this interview. Within an hour of the time appointed by Donna Dolores, he had thrown himself on his horse, and was galloping furiously toward the " Rancho of the Holy Trinity." It was inland and three leagues away under the foot-hills. But as he entered upon the long level {)lain, unrelieved by any water-course, and baked and cracked by the fierce sun into narrow gaping chasms and yawning fissures, he unconsciously began to slacken his })ace. Nothing could be more dreary, passionless and resigned than the vast, sun-lit, yet joyless waste. It seemed as if it might be some illimitable, desolate sea, beaten flat by the north-westerly gales that spent their impotent fur)' on its unopposing levels. As fiir as the eye could reach its dead monotony was unbroken ; even the black catde that in the clear distance seemed to crawl over its surface did not animate it; rather by contrast brought into relief its fixed rigidity of outline. Neither wind, sky nor sun wrought any cliange over its blank, expressionless face. It was the symbol of Patience- a ho])eIess, weary, helpless patience- but a pati- ent e that was Eternal. He had ridden for nearly an hour, when suddenly there seemed to spring uj) from the earth, a mile away, a dark line of wall, terminating in an irregular, broken outline against the sky. His first impression was that it was the ra/da or a break of the stiff skirt of the mountain as it struck the level plain. Hut he i)resently saw the dull red of tiled roofs over the dark adobe wall, and as he dashed down into the dry bed of a van- ished stream and up again on the opposite bank, he passed the low walls of a (orral, until then unnoticed, and a few crows, in ■ •'j- NT * 138 GARKIKI, CONKDY. * 1 ^' t . W?'' a rusty, half-Spanish, half-clerical suit, uttered a croaking wci come to the Rancho of the Holy Trinity, as they rose from thr- ground before him. It was the first sound that for an hour had interrupted the monotonous jingle of his spurs or the hoi low beat of his horse's hoofs. And then, after the fashion ot the country, he rose slightly in his stirrups, dashed his spur> into the sides of his mustang, swung the long, horse-hair, braid ed thong of his bridle-rein, and charged at headlong sjieed upon the do/en lounging, apparently listless vaqueros, who, t'oi the past hour, had nevertheless been watching and waiting foi him at the court-yard gate. As he rode toward them, then separated, drew up each side of the gate, doffed their glazed, stiff-brimmed, black sombreros, wheeled, put spurs to their horses, and in another instant were scattered to the four winds. When Arthur leaped to the brick ])avement of the court -yard there was not one in sight. An Indian servant noiselessly led away his horse. Another peon as mutely led the way along a corridor over whose low- railings serapes and saddle blankets were hung in a barbaric confusion of colcjring, and entered a bare-walled anteroom, where another Indian — old, gray-headed, with a face like a wrinkled tobacco leaf — was seated on a low wooden settle in an attitude of patient expectancy. To Arthur's active fancy he seemed to have been sitting there since the establishment of the Mission, and to have grown gray in waiting for him. As Arthur entered he rose, and, with a few grave Spanish tour tesies, ushered him into a large and more elaborately furnished apartment, and again retired with a bow. Familiar as Arthur was with these various formalities, at jDresent they seemed to have an undue significance, and he timed somewhat impatient- ly as a door o})ened at the other end of the apartment. .\t the same moment a subtile strange perfume- not unlike some barbaric spice or odorous Indian herb -stole through the door, and an old woman, brown-faced, murky-eyed and decrejjit. entered with a respectful courtesy. " It is Don Arturo Poinsett?" Arthur bowed. ** 'I'he Donna Dolores has a little indisposition, and claim, vouv indulgence if she receives you in her own room." TMK lADV OF GRIEF. V^9 i . Arthur bowed assent. " Biwno. Tliis way." She j)()inte(l to the open door. Arthur entered by a narrow passnj^^e cut through the thi( 'cness of the adobe wall into an- other room beyond, and paused on the threshold. Even the gradual chan^^e from the glaring sunshine of the fourt yard to the heavy shadows of the two rooms he had passed through was not sutificient to accustom his eyes to the twilight of the apartment he now entered. T'or several seconds he could not distinguish anything but a few dimly outlined objects, hy degrees he saw that there was a bed, a p>ie dieu^ and a sofa against the oi)posite wall. The scant light of two windows — mere longitudinal slits in the deep walls — at first permitted him only this. T^ater he saw tliat the sofa was occupied by a half- reriining figure, whose face was i)artly hidden by a fan, and the white folds of whose skirt fell in graceful curves to the floor. "V'ou speak Spanish, Don Arturo ?" asked an exciuisitely modulated voice from behind the fan, in perfect Castilian. Arthur turned quickly toward the voice with an indescribable thrill of pleasure in his nerves. "A little." He was usually rather proud of his ^^panish, but for once the lonvcntional polite disclaimer was (juite siniere. " Be seated, Don Arturo !" He advanced to a chair indicated by the old woman within a {t\s feet of the sofa and sat down. At the same instant the w lining figure, by a t[uick, dexterous movement, folded the large black fan that had jtartly hidden her features, and turned her face toward him. Arthur's heart leaped with a sudden throb, and then, as it seemed to him for a few seconds stopped beating. The eyes that met his were large, lustrous, and singularly beautiful ; the ftatures were small, European, and perfectly modeled; the out- line of the small foce was a perfect oval, but the com{)lexion was of burnished copper! yet even the next moment he found himself halting among a dozen comjiarisons— a golden sherry, a faintU' dyed meers( haum, an autun\n leaf, the inner (k ' I .f J 40 C.ABRtEI- CONROV. MU l- I .-, - ; ' 1 ' ■ ■ !■ . i ','■■ 1' \\:'y \:\:Vi . hark of tlic niadnouK Of only one Miing was lie » ertain was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen! It IS ])ossible that the Donna read this in his eyes, for shi oj)ened her fan again tiuietly, and raised it slowly before her face. Arthur's eager glance swept down the long curves of her graceful figure to the little foot in the white satii; slipper below, Yet her (juaint dress, except for its color, might have l)t'en taken for a religious habit, and had a hood or cape descendint; over her shoulders not unlike a nun's. "You have sur])rise, Don Arturo," she said after a pause. " that 1 have sent for y(ju, after having before consulted you 1)\ proxy. Good ! But J have changed my mind since then I I have concluded to take no stei>s for the present toward jierfecting the grant." In an instant Arthur was himself again — and completely on his guard. The Donna's few words had recalled the i)ast that he had been rajjidly forgetting; even the perfectly delicious cadence of the tones in which it was uttered had now no power to fascinate him or lull his nervous anxiety. He felt a presenti ment that the worst was coming. He turned toward her outwardly calm, but alert, eager and watchful. " Have you any newly discovered evidence that makes the issue doubtful ? " he asked. " No," said Donna Dolores. '* Is there anything?— any fact that Mrs. Sepulvida has forgotten ? " continued Arthur. " Here are, I believe, the points she gave me," he added, and with the habit of a. well- trained intelligence, he put before Donna Dolores, in a few well-chosen words, the substance of Mrs. Sepulvida's story. Nor did his manner in the least betray a fact of which he was perpetually cognizant— namely, that his fair client, between thi- sticks of her fan, was studying his face with more than feminine curiosity. When he paused she said : '' Bueno. That is what I told her." " Is there anything more? " " Perhaps ! " A. ihur folded his arms and looked attentive. Donna Doloie- began to go over the sti( ks oi her lan one by one, as if it wen a rosarv. • THK. lAin' oy t;Rii h 141 •' I have heconic aC(iiiaintocl with some f;u ts in this crse \vhi( h may not interest you as a lawyer, Hon Arturo, but which alTL'( I me as a woman. Wlien I have told you them, you will tell nie who knows? that they do not alter the legal aspects ol' inv my father's claim. N'ou will jjerhaps laugh at me for my rcsdiulion. Hut I have given you so much trouble, that it is only fair you should know that it is not merely caj)rice that L^overns me — that vou should know why vt)ur visit here is a barren one ; why you — the great advocate have been obliged to waste your valuable time with my [)0()r friend, I)(;nna Maria, tor nothing." .\rthur war. too much pre occupied to notice the peculiarly feminine significance with which the Donna dwelt upon this latter sentence— a fact that would not otherwise have escai)ed his keen observation. He slightly stroked his brown mustache, and looked out of the window with masculine ])atience. " It is not caprice, Don Arturo. But I am a woman and an orphan ! You know my history ! The only friend I had has left me here alone the custodian of these vast estates. Listen to me, Don Arturo, and you will understand, or at least forgive, my foolish interest in the peojile who contest this claim. For what has happened to them, to /ifr, might have happened to me, but for the blessed Virgin's mediation," "To //('/■ who is s/ic? asked Arthur quietly. "Pardon ! I had forgotten you do not know. Listen ! Vou have heard that this grant is occupied by a man and his wife — a certain (iabriel Conroy. Good ! Vou have heard that they have made no claim to a legal title to the land, except through pre-emption. Good. That is not true, Don Arturo 1 " Arthur turned to her in undisguised suri)rise. "This is new matter; this is a legal point of some import- ance."' '* Who knows ? " said Donna Dolores indifferently. " It is not in regard of that that I speak. The claim is this: The Hr. Devarges, who also possesses a grant for the same land, made a gift of it to the sister of this Gabriel. Do you comprehend?" She paused and (Ixed her eyes on /ithur. '■ Perfectly," said Arthur with his gaze still fixed on the window; " it accounts for the i»resence ot this Gabriel on tiie *;.■» . • [■ V» J 142 (;AHRIKI, con ROY. land. F?iit is she living? (^r, if not. is he her loyally constituted heir? That is the question, and pardon me if 1 siiguost again- -a i)urely legal and not a sentimental ([uestion. Was this woman who has disappeared—this sister — this sole and only legatee -a married woman-had she a child ? Because that is the heir." The silence that followed this (]iiestion was so protracted, that Arthur turned toward Donna l)(^lores. She had apparently made some sign to her aged waiting-woman, who was bending over her, between Arthur and the sofa. In a moment, however, the venerable handmaid withdrew, leaving them alone. '* You are right," Don Arturo, continued Donna Dolores, behind her fan. " You see that, after all, your advic e is necessary, and what 1 began as an explanation of my folly niav be of business imjiortance ; who knows ? It is good of \ ou to recall me to that. We women are foolish. You are sagacious and prudent. It was well that I saw you ! " Arthur nodded assent, and resumed his professional attitude of patient toleration — that attitude which the world over has been at once the exasperation and iiwful admiration of the largely injured client. " And the sister, the real heiress is gone — disappeared ! No knows one where ! All trace of her is lost. But now comes to the surf;ice an impostor ! a woman who assumes the character and name of (irace Conroy, the sister ! " " One moment," said Arthur, quietly, " how do you know- that it is an impostor?" " How — do — I — know — it ? " " Yes, what are the proofs ? " " I am told so ! " " Oil ! " said Arthur, relap.sing into his professional attitude ngaui. " Proofs," repeated Donna Dolores, hurriedly. " Is it not enough that she has married this (iabriel, her brother?" " 'rhat is certainly strong moral i)roof — and perhaps legal corroborative evidence," said Arthur, coolly ; " but it will n(rt legally estop her proving that she is his sister — if sho can do so. But I ask your pardon — go on ! " t TIIK I,AI)V i^V (;rif,k. 14:{ "'I'hat is all," said Donna Dolores, sitting up, with a slight 1,'t'stuic of impatience. "Very well. 'I'hen, as I understand, the case is simply this: You hold a grant to a piece of land, actually possessed by a squatter, who claims it through his wife or sister — legally it doesn't matter whi( h by virtue of a becjuest made by one Dr. Dcvarges, who also held a grant to the same property? " " Ves," said Donna Dolores, hesitatingly. " \yjll, the matter lies between you and Dr. Devarges only. It is simi)ly a cjuestion of the validity of the original grants. All that you have told me does not alter that radical fact. Stay! One moment! iVfay T ask how you have acquired these later details ? " " Hy letter." " From whom ? " "There was no signature. The writer offered to [)rove all he said. It was anonymous." Arthur rose with z. superior smile. " May I ask >ou further, without impertinence, if it is upon this evidence that you propose to abandon your claim to a valuable property ? " " I have told you before that it is not a legal question, Don Arturo," said Donna Dolores, waving her fan a little more rapidly. "(lood! let us take it in the moral or sentimental aspect — siiK e you have proposed to honor me with a request for my counsel. To begin, you have a sympathy for the or[)han, who does not apparently exist." "But her brother?" " Has already .struck hands with the impostor, and married her to secure the claim. And this brother «'h;U proof is there. that he is not an impostor too ? ' "True," said Donna Dolores, musingly. " He will -certainly have to settle that trifling question with Dr. Devarges's heirs, whoever they may be." "True," said Donna Dolores. " In short, I see no reason, even from your own view-point, why you should not fight this claim. The orjihan you symy)a- thi/e with is not an active parly. ^^)U have only a brother 144 r. A BR I P.I. rONROV. . k> • i 41 oj)|)osed to you, who scfeins to have l)c'i'n uilhiig lo harlov away a sister's hirthri^Iit. And. as I said before, your syini)athics, however kind and roniniciidahle they may be, will be of no avail, unless the courts decide against Dr. Devarges, Mv advice is to fight. If the right does not always succeed, nu experience is that the Right, at least, is apt to ])lay its hcsl card, and put forward its best skill. And until it docs that, it '.night, as well be the Wrong, you know." " You are wise, Don Arturo. lUit you lawyers are so'otkii only advocates. Pardon, I mean no wrong. Hut if it wcmc Grace- the sister, you understand- what would be your ad- vice?" "The same. Fight it out! If 1 could overthrow your gram. I should do it. The struggle, understand me, is there, and not with this wife and sister. But how does it come that a patent for this has not been applied for before by (iabrici? Did your anonymous corrcsi)ondcnt explain that fact ? It is a point in our favor." " You forget — our grant was only recently discovered." "True ! it is about e(|ual, then, ab initio. And the absenrc of this actual legatee is in our favor." "Why?" " Becau.se there is a certain human sympathy in jur'es with a pretty orphan, i)articularly if j)oor." " How do you know she was pretty ?" asked Donna Dolores, quickly. " I i)resume so. ft is the jtrivilege of ori)hanage," he 'said. with a bow of cold gallantry. " Y^ou are wise, Don Arturo. May you live a thousand years." This time it was impossible but Arthur should notice the irony of Donna Dolores's manner. All his strong combative instincts rose. The mysterious power of her beauty, which he could not help acknowledging ; her tone of sTSperiority, whetber attributable to a consciousness of this power over him, or some knowledge of his past- -all aroused his cold pride. He rcmeio bered the reputation that Donna Dolores bore as a religious devotee and rigid moralist. If he had been taxed with his abandonment of Grace, with his half-formed designs upcn nil", lAPV OF OR I IK. 14A ' . Mr^. Si'piilvi'ln. he would h.ivc < oldly admittrd llu-m wiilumt i\( use or armunciu. In doin^' so. ho would have been per- il' tlv an Franc isco to-morrow." Let them wait. You shall write that important business k('ij)S you her', and Diego shrJl ride n^.y own horse to reac:h thi <'w/;i7/vrt'^f vv <"cr the steamcM to-night. 'i o morrow he will he in San ••>ancis«>nii;i holiirts foldi'd h«.r t";iti. tluvw IktscII' I);u k U|)nn tin '^()f;l. ;in(l called \n .i (|iii( k whisper : " Mamicla !" The old woman ro apjjcarcd with an aiwiioiis la< i- and ran tow.ird the sola. lUit she was loo lute ; her mistress had faiiUccL CIIAPTKR XXI. A LEAF OUT OF TFIK I'AST. Ari mur's letter to his partners was a brief explanation ol his tlelay. and dosed with the following senleiu e : ** Search the records for any dec a or transfer of the grant from Dr. Devarges." He had scarcely concluded before Diego entered ready for the journey. When he had gone Arthur waited with some im- patience the re-api)earance of Donna Dolores. To his disap- poititnient, however, only the solemn major-domo strode grimly into the room like a dark-comple.xioned ghost, and, as it seemed to Arthur, with a strong suggestion of the Commander in Don Giovanni in his manner, silently beckoned him to follow to the apartment set aside for his reception. In keeping with ♦ho siui evading instincts of Spanish Californian arc hitecture the room was long, low, and half lighted ; the two barred windows on either side of the door-way gave upcm the cxjrridor and court-yard below; the ojjposite wall held only a small, narrow, (3eeply-eml)rased loop-hole, through whic h Artluir c:ould S'-e the vast, glittering sun-illumined j)lain beyond. The hard, monotonous, unwinking glare without did not penetrate the monastic gloom of this chamber; even the insane. inc:essant restlessness of the wind that i)erijetually beset the bleak walls was unheard and unfclt in the grave, contemplative solitude of this religious cell. Mingled with this grateful asceticism was the cjuaint contrast ol a peculiar Spanish luxuriousness. In a curtained recess an i. ■'• 14« GAPKIFT, CONRC.V. . I immense malio<;nny bedstead disj)laycd a yellow satin covnlet pn.rusely embroidered with pink and purple silk llowers, 'I'hc borders of the sheets and cases of the satin pillows were dee))ly edged with the finest lace. Beside the bed and before a large arm-chair heavy rugs of barbaric colors covered the dark wooden floor, and in front of the deep oven-like earth lay an immense i)e.'r skin. Above the hearth hung an ebony and gold cru( ifix, and, mingled with a few modern engravings, the usual Catholic saints and martyrs occupied the walls. It struck Arthur's (ob- servation oddly that the subjects of the secular engravings were snow landscapes. The Hospice of St. Bernard in winter, a i)ass in the Austrian Tyol, the Stei)pes of Russia, a Norwe- gian plain, all to Arthur's fan( y brought the temj.^erature ct the room down considerably. A small water-color of an Alpine flower touched him so closely that it might have blossomed from his recollection. Dinner, which was i)refaced by a message from i )onna Dolores excusing herself through indisposition, was served in s^^leniii silence. A cousin .)f the late Don Jose Salvatierra represented the family and pervaded the meal with a mild flavor of stale cig;iritos and dignified criticism of remote events. Arthur, dis- aj)pointL* l)usiness as an un- warrantable impertinence. But when the dinner was over, and lie had smoked a cigar on the corridor without further coni- nmnication with Donna Dolores, he began to be angry with himself for ac( epting her invitation, and savagely c ritical of the motives that impelled him to it. He was meditating an early retreat— even a visit to Mrs. Sepulvida — when Manuela entered. Would Don Arturo grant the Donna his further counsel and presence ? P'o^i Arturo was conrcious that his cheek was flushing, and (hat his counsel at the present moment would not have been eminently remarkable for coolness o'- judiciousness, but he ibl lowed the Indian woman with a slight inc lination of the head. I'hey .Altered the room where he had first met the Donna. She might not have moved from the position she had occupied that mi,»ning on tlie couch, so like was her attitude ^nd man- A LEAF our OF THE I'AST. ll(i tier. As he approached her respectfully, lie was conscious of the same fragn'iice, and the same mysteri'.us magnetism that seemed to iCap from her dark eyes, and draw his own resisting and unwilling gaze toward her. " You will despise me, I )on Arturo — you, whose country- women are so strong and active, because I am so little and weak, and, — Modier of ( iod ! — so lazy ! Hut I am an invalid, and am not yet (^uite recovered. But then I am accustomed to it. I have lain here for days, Don Artur(>, doing nothing. It is weary —eh ? You think ? This watching, this waiting 1 — dav after day — always the same !" There was something so delicately plaintive and tender in the cad':nce of her speech — a cadence that might, perhaps, have b.'en attributed to the characteristic intonation of the Castiliaii teminine speech, but which Arthur could not help thinking was peculiar to herself, that at the moment he dared not lift his eyes to her, although he was conscious she was looking at him. But by an impulse of safety he addressed himself to the fan. 'You have been an invalid then — Donna Dolores?" " A sufferer, Don Arturo." "■ Have you ever ried the benefit of change of scene — of habits of life '^ Your ample means, your freedom from the cares of fimily or kinshi[), offer you such opportunities," he continued, still addressing the fan. But the fan, as if magnetized by his gaze, became coquet- tishly ( onscious ; fluttered, faltered, droo})ed, and then Ian guidly folded its wings. Arthur was left helpless. " Perhaps," said Donna Dolores, "who knows?" She paused for an instant, and then made a sign to Manuela. The Indian woman ro.^e and left the room. " I have :!omething to tell you. Don Artaro," she continued, "something 1 should have told you this morning. It is not too late now. But it is a secret. It is only that I have tjues- tioned my right to ttll it — not that I have doubted your honor, Don Arturo, that I withheld it then." Arthur raised his eyes to hers. It was her turn to evade his gianc e. With her long lashes dropped, she went on ; " It was five years ago, and my fatl-er — whom may the Saints t. ' ••■ . M 150 CJABRIKI, (ONROY. *•( -• f assoil — was alive. Came to us then at the Presidicj of San Geronimo, a young girl -an American, a stranger and helpless. She had escaped from a lost camp in the snowy mountains where her family and friends were starving. That was the story she told my father. It was a probable one — was it not?" A.thur bowed his head but did not reply. " But the name that she gave was not a true one, as it ap- peared. My father had sent an Expedicion to relieve thcso people, and they had found among the dead the ])erson whoii] this young girl — this stranger— assumed to be. That was tluii report. The name of the young girl who was found dead and the name of the young girl who came to us was the same. Ii was Cirace Conroy." Arthur's face did not move a muscle, nor did he once take his eyes from the drooping lids of his com])anion. " It was a grave matter — a very grave matter. And it was the more surprising because the young girl had at first given another name the name of Grace Ashley— which she after ward explained was the name of the young man who heh)ed her to escai)e, and whose sister she at first assumed to be. " My father was a good man, a kind man — a saint, Don Arturo. It was not for him to know if she were Grace Ashk y or Grace Conroy — it was enough for him to know that she was alive, weak, helpless, suffering. Against the advice of his ot^ cers, he took her into his own house, into his own family, into his own fatherly heart, to wait until her brother, or this Philiji Ashley, should return. He never returned. In six months she was taken ill — very ill — a little child was born — Don Arturo — but in the same moment it died and the mother died — both, you comprehend — both died — in my arms ! " " That was bad," said Arthur, curtly. "I do not comprehend," said Donna Dolores. "Pardon. Do not misunderstand me. I say it was bad, tor I really believe that this girl the mysterious stranger, with tlu' alias^ was really (irace Conroy." Donna Dolores raised her eyes and stared at Arthur "And why?" " Because the identificati:>n of the bodies; by the Expedicw^'- was hurried and imperfect.' i .. • » A I.KAK OUT OF IHK \'\>\. 151 ■I . • •• Hi)\v knew you this ?" Arthur rose and drew his chair a little nearer his fair client. " \'oii have been good enough to intrust me with an impor- tnnt and honorable secret. Let me show my ai)|>reciation of that (onfidence by intrusting you with one etjually important. 1 know that the identification was imjjerfect and hurried, be- cause /was present. In the report of the Expedicion you will find the name, if you have not alread) read it, of Lieutenant Arthur Poinsett. That was myself." Donna Dolores raised herself to a sitting posture. " But why did you not tell me this before?" " Because, first, I believe you knew that 1 was Lieutenant Poinsett, liecause, secondly, I did 7wt believe that you knew that Arthur Poinsett and Philip Ashley were one and the same person." " I do not understand," said Donna Dolores slowly, in a hard metallic voi"e. " I am Lieutenant Arthur Poinsett, formerly of the army, who, under the a.ssumed name of Phdip Ashley, brought Cirace Conroy out of Starvation Camp, lam the person who after- wards abandoned her — the father of her child." lie had not the slightest intention of saying this when he first entered the room, but something in his nature, which he had never tried to control, brought it out. He was neither ashamed of it nor apprehensive of its results; but, having said it, leaned back in his chair, proud, self-reliant and self-sustained. If he had been uttering a moral sentiment, he could not have been externally more calm or inwardly less agitated. More than that,»there was a certain injured dignity in his manner, as he rose, without givmg the speechless and astomshed woman httore him chance to recover herself, and said : " Vol. will be able now to know whether your ronfidence has been misplaced. You will be able now^ to determine what you wish done, and whether I am the ])erson best < alculated to assi;>t you. I can only say. Donna Dolores, that J am ready I') act either as your witness to the identification of the real (Irace Conroy, or as your legal adviser, or botii. When vou have decided which, you shall gi\e me your further commands, 01 dismiss me. Until then, adics ,'" .4 152 f;.\I{Rli:L CONROV, He bowed, wiived his hand with a certain grand courte,->v, and withdrew. When ! )onna 1 )olores raised her stupeficr] head, the door had closed upon him. When the conceited young gentleman reached his own room. he was, I grieve to say, to some extent mentally, and, if 1 p.iay use the word, morally exalted by the interview. More than that, he was in better sjjirits than he had been since iiis arrival. From his rooin he strode out into the corridor. lfhishor>c had been saddled, he would have taken a sharp canter over []w low hills for exercise, pending the decision of his fair client. but it was the hour of the noonday siesta, and the courtyani was deserted. He walked to the gate and looked across the plain. A fierce wind held uninterrupted possession of earth and sky. Something of its restlessness, just at that instant, was in Arthur's breast, and, with a glance around the corridor, and a momentary hesitation, as an opening door, in a distant part of the building, suggested the possibility of another sum mons from Donna Dolores, he stepped beyond the walls. chapti:r XXII. THE BULLS OF THE BLKSSED TRJNI | V The at)solute freedom of illimitable space, the exhilaration of the s})ark]ing sunlight, and the excitement of the^ ojjposinu wind, which was strong enough to oblige him to exert a certam degree of i)hysical strength to overcome it, so wrought ujion Arthur, that in a few moments he had thrown off the mysteri- ous spell which the Rancho of the Blessed Trinity appeared to have cast over his spirits, and had piaced a material distam c between him and its gloomy towers. The landscape, whidi had hitherto seemed monotcmous and uninspiring, now became suggestive ; in low, dome-shaped hills beyond, that were luul- dled together like half-blown earth bubbles raised l)y the fitiy breath of some long dead volcano, he fancied he saw the oriiin THF, nrii s OF ■]]]]• »nis-n> ikiniin-. 15:5 of the Mission architecture. In the long sweej) of the level plain, he recognized the calm, uneventful life that had left its expression in the patient gravity of the people. In the fierce, restless wind that blew over it — a wind so persistent and perpetual that all umbrage, except a narrow fringe of dwarfed willows defining the line of an extinct water (ourse, was hidden in sheltered canons and the leeward slojies of the hills -he recognized something of his own restless race, and no longer wondered at the barrenness of the life that was turned toward the invader. " I dare- say," he muttered to himself, "some- where in the leeward of these peoi)le's natures may exist a luxurious growth that we shall never know. 1 wonder if the Donna has not" — but here he stopped, angry ; and. if the truth must be told, a little frightened at the ])ersistency with which Donna Dolores cbtruded herself into his abstract philosophy and sentiment. Possibly something else caused him for the moment to dis- miss her from his mind. ' During his ra])idwalk he had ncHiced, as an accidental, and by no means an essential feature of the l)leak landscape, the vast herds of crawling, j)urposeless cattle. An entirely new and distinct impression was now forming itself in his consciousness — namely, that they no longer were i)urposeless, vagrant, and wandering, but were actually obeying a certain definite law of attraction, and were moving deliberately toward an equaUy definite object. And that object was himself! book where he would ; before, behind, on either side,- north, east, south, west, — on the bleak hill-toi)s, on tiie slope of the /a/,/(/. across the dried up anvxo, there were the same converg- ing lines of slowly moving objcc ts toward a single focus — himself! Although walking briskly, and with a certain definitc- ness of j)ur])ose, he was apparentlv the onlv unchanging, fixed, and limited pomt in the now active landscape. ICverything that rose above the dead, barren level was now moving slowly, irresistibly, instinctively, but unmistakablv, toward one common center— himself ! Alone and unsupportc*!*!. he was the heljdess, unconscious nucleus of a slowlv gathering force, almost ini measurable in its immensity and power ! At first the idea was amusing and gi"otes(|ue. Then it be- came picturesque. Then it became something for [)ractical I, .1 154 nABRIEI. rONROY. *4 ronsidcration. And ihcn -but no ! — with the (juirk and un erring instincts of a i)C)\verfLil will, lie choked down the next consideration l)efore it had time to fasten ii])on or ])aralyze his strength. He stojjjjed and turned. The Rancho of the Blessed Trinity was gone ! Had it suddenly sunk in the earth. or had he diverged from his path? Neither; he had simjjlv walked over the; little elevation in the ])lain beside the «/vvmv and ivrni/, and had already left the Rancho two miles behind him. It was not the only surprise that came upon him suddenly like a blow between the eyes. The same mysterious attrac tion had been operating in his rear, and when he turned to retrace his steps toward the Mission, he faced the staring eyes of a hundred bulls not fifty yards away. As he faced them, the nearest turned, the next rank followed their example, the next the same, and the next, until iii the distance he could seethe movement repeated with military precision and sequence. With a sense of relief, that he jmt aside as quickly as he had the sense of fear, he quickened his ])ace. until the nearest hull ahead broke into a gentle trot, which was communicated line by line to the cattle beyond, until the whole herd before him undulated like a vast monotonous .sea. He continued on across the arroyo and past the corral until the blinding and i)enetrating cloud of dust, raised by the i)lunging hoofs of the moving mass before him, caused him to stop. A dull reverberation of the plain — a sound that at first might have been attributed to a passing earth(iuake— now became so distinct that he turned. Not twenty yards beliind him rose the advance wall of another vast, tumultuous sea of tossing horns antl undulating b;i(ks that had been slowly following his retreat ! He had forgi tlen that he was surrounded. The nearest were now so close upon him that he could oh- serve them seixarately. They were neither large, j)owerlii1. vindictive, nor ferocious. On the contrary they were thin, wasted, haggard anxious beasts - economically e(|iiip])ed and gotten up, the better to wrestle with a six months' drou.uht. occasional famine, 'and the incessant buffeting of the wind- wild and untamable, bot their staring eyes and nervous limbs expressed only wonder and curiosity. And when he ran toward IirF- lUTlJS OF VWV nTFSSF.D TRIN'ITY. i:.r. 1 . tluMii Willi a slunit, they liinu'd. as had iho others, tile hv I'lle, and rank by rank, and in a moment were, like the others, in full retreat. Rather, let me say, retreated as the others had retreated, for when he fared ahowt apiin to retrace his ste|)S toward the Mission, he fronted the bossy hiiekler" and inex- tritable horns of those he had d;iven only a few moments a,u,f) before him. They had availed themselves of his diversion vvnih the rear guard to retiun. With the rapidity of a (luirk intellect and swift perc eptions, Arthur saw at onw the resistless logic and utter hopelessness of his situation. The inevitable culmination of all this was only aijuestion of time ami a very brief period. Would it be sufficient to enable him to rea( h the tf.ssa ? No I ("ould he regain the ivnv/ ? Perhaps. Between it and himself already were a thousand cattle. Would they continue to retreat as he advanced ? Possibly. But would he be overtaken meanwhile by those in his rear ? He answered the (juestion himselfby drawing from his waist- coat pocket his only weapon, a small "Derringer,'" and taking aim at the foremost bull. The shot took effect in the animal's shoulder, and he fell upon his knees. As Arthur had expected, his nearer comrades stopped and sniffed at their helpless com- panion. Rut, as Arthur had not expected, the eager crowd pressing behind overbore them and their wounded brother, and in another instant the unfortunate animal was ])rostrate and his life beaten out by the tramjieling hoofs of the resistless, blind, and eager crowd that followed. With a terrible intuition that it was a foreshadowing of his own fate. Arthur turned in the di- rection of the corral, and ran for his very life ! As he ran he was conscious that the act precipatcd the in- evitable catastrophe but he could think of nothing better. As he ran, he felt, from the shaking of the earth beneath his feet, that the act had once more put the whole herd in e |ual!y active motion behind him. .As he ran, he noticed that the cattle hefore him retreated with something of his own j)recipitation. But as he ran, he thought of nothing but the awful fate that was following him, and the thought spurred him to an almost frantic effort. I have tried to make the reader understand that Arthur was cjuite inaccessable to any of those weaknesses which I" . .■1 l.)fi liAHklKl, CON'N.M ^ nuuikind rcj^.ird as ithysical cowardice. In the defence of what he believed lo be an intellectual truth, in the interests of Ms pride or his self-love, or in a moment of passion, he would have faced death with unbroken fortitude and calmness. Hm to be the victim of an accident; to be the lamentable sequel ot" a logical succession of chances, without motive or puri)ose; \n be sacrificed for Tiothing without j)roving or disi)roving any thing; to be trampled to death by idiotic beasts, who had not even the instincts of passion oi revenge to justify them; to die the death of an ignorant tramj), orany negligent clown- a death that hau a ghastly ludicrousness in its method, a death that would leave his i)ody a shapeless, inch'stinguishable, unrcc ou nizab^v, clod which aiiection could n',»t idc» 15.^ (.AliUIKI, CONKOV. CHAl'TKR XXIII. «i JR. AND MRS. CONKON A'l' HOME. Thf ni;imier in which One Hor.sc (lulch ivccived the news of (labricl ('(jnroy's tnarriagc was characteristic of tliat frank and outspoken (omnuinity. Without entering upon the (jues- tion of his previous shameless flirtation with Mrs. Markle- the l)aleful extent iA' whicli was generally unkn' courtship louung St) hard upon Mrs. Miirkle's fickleness ((»nnnended itself to the child's sense of justice and feminine tetaliation. I'or herself. Oily hardly knew if she liked her pros|)ective sister ; she was gentle, she was kind, she .seemed to love Gabriel -but Oily was often haunted by a vague mstinct that Mrs. Markle would have been a better match- md with true feminine inconsistency she hated her the more for it. Possibly she lasted also something ot the disappointment of the baffled male h-maker in the depths ot lier childish consciousness. It may be fairly i)resumed that the former Mrs. Devarges had confided to n(» one but her lawyer the secret of her assumption of the character of Orac e Conroy. How far or how much more she had confidetl to that gentleman was known i>nly to himself; he kept her .secret whatever might have been its ex- lent, and reieived the announcement (;f her intended marriage to (labriel with the superior smile of one to whom all things are possible from the uni^rofessioiial sex. '• Xow that you are about to enter into actual possession," said Mr. Maxwell, ([uietly buttoning up his pocket again, " 1 suppose you will not reiiuire my services immediately." It is said, upon what authority I know not, that Madame Devarges lilushed .slightly, heaved the least possii)le sigh as she shook her head and .said, " I hope not," with an evident sincerity that left her legal adviser in some slight astonishment. How far her intended husband j)articipated in this confi- I . '. i • » ■:■) ■ HiO (".AIlklKK CONKOV (IctK c I (lu Mot know. Ik' was evidently proud of alltidin;^ to her in the few l)ricf days of his <()iirlshi|) as the widow of the " f^reat l)o(tor I )evar;,^es," and his knowledge of her former husband to some extent mitigated in the |iul)li< mind the .ip parent want of premeditation in the courtshii). " I'o think of the artfulness of that man," said Sal confidently to Mrs. Markic " and he a gittin' up sympathy about his suffern\'s at Starvation (.'amp, and all the while a-carryin" on with the widder of one o' them onfortunets. No wonder that man was (jueer ! \\\){ you alhnved in the innocents o' yer heart was bashfulness was jot conscience. 1 never let on to ye, Mrs. Markle, but 1 alius noticed thet thet (labe never ( ould meet my eye." The ilippant mind might have suggested that as both of Miss Sarah's eyes were afllicted with a cast, there might have been a i)hysi( al impediment to this exchange of frankness, but then the tlippant mind never enjoyed the confidence of this j)owerful young woman. It was a month after the wedding, and Mrs. Markle wa»s sit- ting alone in her ])arl()r, whither she had retired after the jm)- fessional duties of supi)er were over, when the front door ojan ed and Sal entered. Jt was Sunday evening, and Sal had been enjoying the brief recreation of gossip with the neighbors, and, as was alleged by the nii)i)ant mind before alluded to, sonic cocpiettish conversation and dalliance with certain youth oi One Horse (lulch. Mrs. Markle watched her handmaid slowly remove an ini mense .straw " tlat " trimmed with tropical (lowers, and then proceed to fold away «n enormous plaid shawl which rei)rc sented cjuite another ;:one, and then her curiosity got the Inci- ter of her ])rudence. '• Well, and how did ye find the young couple gettin' on, Sal ?" Sal too well understood the value of coyly-withheld informa tion to answer at once, and with the instincts of a true artist she affected to misunderstand her mistress. When Mrs. Markle had repeated her cjuestion Sal replied with a sarcasti( laugh : " Axin yer pardin for manners, but you let on aboiu the vo;//;,. (onnle. and s/ie fortv if she's anvthin'." MK. AM> MRS. ((INROV Al flOMK. IHl < . . •• Oh. !i(), Sal," rciiionstrati'd Mr>. Marklc with repro.i* hful arronts, and yet ii certain selfsatisfac tion ; " you're mistaken, sure. "Well," sai«l Sal, breathlessly slapping her hands on her lap, •* it' |HMrl powder and another woman's har and fancy doin's lit'^j^ilcs folks it ain't Sal ez is among the folks fooled. No, Sue Markle. Kf I ain't lived long enough with a woman ez owns to thirty-three and hez ef it wuz my last words n,nd (iod is my jedge — the neck and arms of a gal of sixteen, not to know when a woman is trying to warm over the s( rai)S of forty vtars with a kind o' hash o' twenty, then Sal Clark ain't got no • eyes, thet's all. Mrs. Markle blushed slightly under the direct flattery of Sal, and continued : ".Some folks says she's i)urty." "Some men's meat is other men's pizen," responded Sal sententiously, unfastening an enormous black velvet zone, and api>arently permitting her figure to fall into instant ruin. " How did they look?" said Mrs. Markle after a pause, re- coinniencing her darning, which she had put down. "Well, purty nuich as 1 allowed they would from the first. Thar ain't any love wasted over thar. My opinion is that he's sick of his barg'in. She runs the house and ev'ry thing that's in it. Jest look at the c ritter ! She's just i)Ut that thar (labe ui» to ])rospecting all along the ledge here, and that fool's left his diggin's and hez been running hither and yon, making rcdiklus holes all over the hill jest to satisfy thet woman, and she ain't satisfied neither. 1 ake my word for it. Sue Markle, thar's suthin' wrong thar. And then thar's that Oily " " Mrs. Markle raised her eyes (juickly and put down her work. " Oily," she repeated with great animation — '* i)0()r little Oily ! what's gone of her?' " Well," said Sal, with an imi)atient toss of her head, " I never did see what thar wuz in that iK'art and sassy piece for anv one to take to -leastwise a woman with a c hild of her own. The airs and gra^^s thet thet Oily would put on wuz too much. \Mn, she hedn't been nigh us fi:)r a month, and the day afore the wedding what does that limb do but meet me and sez, sez iihe, '.Sal, ye can tell Mrs. Markle as my brother Oubi- ez goin' t * . X > : I i 1»)2 (lAURIKL COSROY. iiii^h'l^ to marry a lady a lady,' sc/ she. ' Thar ain't goiii' to be ermv Pikeii about our cabin.' And thct child only eight years 1 Oh. git out th:.r ! I ain't no patience I" To the infinite credit of a much abused sex, be it recorded that Mrs. Markle overlooked the implied slur, and asked : "But what about Oily?" " I mean to say," said Sal, " that thet child hain't no place in thet house, and thet Gai)C is jest thet weak and mean spir- ited ez to let thet woman have her own way. No wo;^der ihct tlie child was crying when 1 met her out in the woods yonder." Mrs. Markle instantly flushed, and her black eyes snai)j)ccl ominously. " 1 should jest like to ketch — " she began (juicklv, and then stopped and looked at her companion. " Sal, ' she said with swift vehemence, " 1 must see thet child." " How?" The word in Sal's dialect had a various, large, and catl.oiic si^^nificance. Mrs. Markle understood it, and repeateci briefly ; " Ollv- 1 must see her right off!" "Which?" continued Sal. " Here," rei)lied Mrs. Markle ; " anywhere. Fetch her when you kin." " She won't come." " Then I'll go to her," said Mrs. Markle, with a sudden and characteristic determination that closed the conversation, and sent Sal back viciously to her unwashed dishes. \^'hatever might have been the truth of Sal's report, there was certainly no general external indication of the facts. The newly married couple were, to all ;'.ppearan(:;,'s, as haj^py and contented, and as enviable to the masculine inhabitants of One Horse Ciulch as any who had ever built a nest within its piis- loral close. If a majority of (labriel s visitors were gentlemen. it was easily attributed to the j)rej)onderance of males in the settlement. If these gentlemen were unanimously extravagant in their ])raise of Mrs. ('onroy, it was as easily attributable to the same cause. That Ciabriel should dig purposeless holes over the hill-side, that he should for the time abandon liis n^gular occui)ation in his little modest claim in the carion, was quite consistent with thr ambition of a newly married man. A few evcnini^s after this, Gabriel (lonroy was sitting al^ne MR. AN!) MRS. CONkOV AT HOME. lt)3 ( . , by the hearth of that new house, wiiich ])oi)ular opinion and the tastes ot" Mrs, Conroy seemed to think was essential to his new condition. It was a larger, more aml)itious, more expensive, and perhai)s less comfortable dwelling than the one in wiich he has l)een introduced to the reader. It was projected upon that ( redit which a man of family was fure to obtain in One Horse Gulch, where the inunigration and establishment of tauiilies and household centers were fostered even at pecuniary risk. It contained, besides the chambers, the gratuitous addi- tion of a parlor; whi( h at this moment was adorned and made attractive by the presence of Mrs. Conroy, who was entertain- ing a few visitors that, under her attractions, had prolonged their sitting until late. When the laugh had cea.sed and the door closed on the last lingering imbecile, Mrs. Conroy return- ed to the sitting-room. It was dark, for Gabriel had not light- ed a candle yet, and he was occupying his favorite seat and attitude before the tire. " Why ! arejw// there?"' said Mrs. Conroy gayly, (labriel looked u\), and with that seriousness which was habi- tual to him, replied : " \ es." Mrs. Conroy approached her lord and master, and ran her tliin, claw-like tint^ers through his hair with married audacity. He caught them, held them for a moment with a kindly, caressing, and yet slightly embarra»vsed air that the lady did not like. She withdrew them cjuickly. " Why didn't you come into the i)arlor.?" she said, examin- ing him curiously. '" I didn't admire to to-nighi," returned Gabriel with grave sim- l)licity, "and I reckoned you'd get on as well without me." There was nut the sliglitest trace of bitterness nor aggrieved sensitiveness in his tone or manner, and although Mrs.'Conrov eyed him sharply for any latent .sjxirk of jealousy, she was ton cd to admit to herself that it did not e.xisi in the (]uiet, serious man l)efore her. N'agueJy aware of some annoyance in hih wife's face, Gabriel reached out his arm, and, lightiy taking her around her waist, drew her to his knck;. lUit the very act wass ) evidently a recognition of a certain kin! of physical and inoiai weakness in the creature before him bo professional ' !'■:• IlilHjIf !•; 164 HABRIFL CONROV. :V-' .,'1 I ■' i SO, as Mrs. Conroy put it to herself, " like as if 1 were a si( k man," that her irritation was not soothed. She rose ciiiirkly and seated herself on the other side of the fire-place. \\ iiii the same inplied toleration (iabriel had already displayed, ho now made no attemj)t to restrain her. Mrs. Conroy did not pout as another woman might iiave done. She only smiled a haggard smile that deepened ilic line of her nostrils into her cheek and ])inched her thin, stnli^ht nose. Then she said, looking at the fire : " A>i't you well ? " " I reckon not — not overly well." There was a silence, both looking at the fire. " You don't get anything out of that hillside ? " asked Mrs. Conroy at last, jietti^hly. " No," said (iabriel. " You have prospected all over the ridge ? " continued the woman impatiently. " All over ! " " And you don't find anything ? " " Nothin'," .said Gabriel.' " Nary. Thet is," he added with his usual cautious deliberation, "thet is- nothin' o' any account The gold, ef there is any> lies lower down in the gulch, whar I used to dig. But 1 kept at it just to satisfy your whim. Yoi; know, July, it 7i:>as a whim of yours," he continued, with o certain gentle deprecatoriness of manner. A terriljle thought flashed suddenly upon Mrs. Conroy. Could Dr. Devarges have made a mistake? Might he not have been delirious or insane when he wrote of the treasure ? Or had the Secretary deceived her as to its location? A swift and sickening sense that all she had gained, or was to gain from her scheme, was the man before her — and that /le did ni)t love her as other men had — asserted itself through her treml)ling consciousness. Mrs. Conroy had already begun to fear that she loved this husband, and it was with a new sense ot yearning and dependent e that she in her turn looked deprei it ingly and submissively into his face and said : " It 7C'as only a whim, dear — 1 dare say a foolish one. It gone now. Don't mind it !" '' 1 don't," said Ciabriel simply. ^ ■ MK. A.VD MRS. C;4>NR()V A I H(1MK. 165 •' . . Mis. Conrov winced. '• I thought you looked disappointed.' she said after a |i.ui^c. *• It ain't thet I was thinking; on, July; it's OJly,'" said Gal »riel. riicre is a limit even to frightened woman's submission. •• Of course," she said sharply, "Oily, Oily again and always, I ought to have remembered that." " Tliet's so," said (labriel with the same exasperating quiet. " I was reckonin' jest now, ez thar don't seem to be any likcliness of you and Olly's gettin' on together, you'd better separate. Thar ain't no sense goin' on this way, July- no sense et all. And the worst o' the hull thing ez thet ()lly ain't gcltin' no kinder good outer it — no way ! " Mrs. Conroy was very pale and dangerously (juiet as Mr. Conroy went on. " I've allers allowed to send that child to school, but she don't keer to go. She's thet foolish, thet Oily is, thet she doesn't like to leave me, and I reckon I'm thet foolish too thet I don't like to hev ner go. The only way to put things scjuare ez this—" Mrs. Conroy turned and fixed her gray eyes upon her husband, but she did not speak. " You'd better go away," continued (iabriel (juietly, " for a while. I've heerd afore now that it's the regular thing fur a hride to go away and visit her mother. Yon hain't got no mother," said Oabriel thoughtfully, "hev ye?— that's bad. l)Ut you was a say in' the other day suthin' about some business you had down at 'Frisco. Now it would be about the nateral sort o' thing for ye to go thar fur two or three months, jest till tilings get round s(|uare with Oily and me." It is probable that (iabriel was the only man from whom Mrs. Conroy could have received this humiliating ])roposition without interrupting him with a burst of indignation. \'et she only turned a rigid face toward the fire again with a hysterical laugh. *' Why limit my stay to two or three months ? " she said. " Well, it might be four," said Gabriel simjily — " it would give me and Oily a. longer time to get things in shape." 1 .•1- 166 GARRIFI, rONIKiV. . * I .. '■ Mis. (Jonroy rose and walked rigi(]Iy to lier luisl)and's skU'. " What,-' she said huskily, " what if I were to refuse ? ' Ciabriel looked as if this sii_i;<;estion would not have lu'cn startlint; or inconsistent as an abstract possibility in woman, hut said nothing, " What," continued Mrs. fonroy, more rapidly and huskily. '• what if I were to tell you and that brat to go ! What," slie said, suddenly raising her voice to a thin, high soprano, " wh.it if I were to turn you both out of this house — ///v house ! dti this land— /ATV land ! Eh? eh? eh?" she almost screanud. emj)hasizing each interrogatory with her thin hand on (iabrid's shoulder, in a desperate but impotent attempt to shake him. " Certingly, certingly," said Gabriel calmly. '* But thar's somebody at the door, July," he continued quietly as he rose slowly and walked into the hall. His (juick ear had detected a knocking without above the truculent pitch of Mrs.- Conroy's voice. He threw open the door, and disclosed Oily and Sal standing u}X)n the threshold, It is scarcely necessary to say that Sal was the first to recover the use of that noble organ the tongue. " With chills and ager in every breath -it's an hour if it's five minutes that we've stood here," she began, " poundini^^ .it th.it door. 'You're interrupting the young couple, Sal,' scz 1 ; 'comin' yer this time o' night, breakin' in, so to speak, on the holiest confidence,' sez I; 'but it's business, and onless voii have ihet to back you, Sarah Clark,' I sez, 'and you ain't .1 woman cz ever turned her back on thet or them, you ain't no call there.' But I was to fetch this child home, Mrs. Conroy." continued Sal, pushing her way into the litdc sitting room, "and " She paused for the room was vacant. Mrs. Conroy luid disai)i)eared. " 1 thought I heerd said Sal. completely taken aba( k. " It was only (iabe," said Oily, with the ready mendacitv of swift feminine tact. '' I told you so. Tiiank you .Sal fni seeing me home. Cxood-night, Sal," and with a dexterity that ;>mote Gabriel into awesome and admiring silence, she MR. ANI> MKS. (fiNROV AT HOMF. 1H7 ;-•' . . abstiliilcly Icil the Ijrcnth'.'ss Sal to the door and dosed it ui)on her before that astonished female could re(M)ver her sj)eech. Then she returned quietly, took off her hat and shawl, and, taking the unresisting hand of her brother, led him back to his former seat Iw the fire. ]>rawing a low stool in front of him, she proceeded to nestle between his knees — an old trick of hers and, once more taking his hand, stroked it between her br()\Mi lingers, locked up into his face, and said : "Dear old dabe!" The sudden smile that irradiated (labriel's serious face would have been even worse provocation to Mrs. Conroy than his previous conduct. " What was the matter, Gabe ? '' said Oily— " x\m{ was she saving when we came in ? " (labriel had not, since the entrance of his sister, thought of Mrs. Conroy's parting speech and manner. Even now its full significance did not appear to have reached him. "I di.sre.nember Oily," he rei)lied, looking down into Oliy'^ earnest eyes, " suthin' or other ; she was techy, thet's all." *' But wot did she mean by saying that the house and lands was hers?" persisted the child. " Married folks. Oily," said Gabriel with the lazy, easy ni.mner of vast matrimonial experience, " married folks hev little jokes and ways o' thar own. Bein' onmarried yourself, ye don"t know. * With all my worldly goods I thee endow,' thet's all thet's what she meant Oily. *With all my worldly goods I thee endow.' Did you hev a good time down there?" " Yes," said Oily. " You'll hev a nice time here soon Oily," .said Gabriel. Ollv looked incredulou.sly across the hall toward the door of Mrs. Conroy's chamber. "I'het's it, Oily," .said CJabriel. "Mrs. Gouroy's goin' to I*>isco to see some friends. She's thet bent on goin' thet nothin' 'ill stop her. Ye see Oily, it's the f:ishion fur new married folks to kinder go away and visit absent and sufferin' friends. Thar's them little \va\s about the married state, that, bein' onmarried yourself, you don't sabe. But it's all right, she's goin'. Bein' a lady, and raised, so to speak, "mong fashl'n'ble people, she's g(jt tw folly the fashi'i). She's goin' for > * * * ■v 4'i ■ '\ %. I 168 GABklKL CONROY. 1.'^^'! • P' I •■ . "4 throe months, nicl)l)L' lour. I disrcmcnilicr now wot's the fashi'n'hic time. But she'll do it, Oily." Oily (list a penetrating look at her brother. " She ain't goin' on my account, (Jabe?" " I.ord love the child, no ! Wot put th(it into your litad, Oily? Why — " said (iabriel with cheerful mendac'ity, "she's been takin' a shine to ye o' late. On'y to-night, she was wonderin' whar you be." As if to give credence to his words, and much to his inward astonishment, the door of Mrs. Oonroy's room oi)ened, and the lady herself, with a gracious smile on her li])s and a brightly beaming eye, albeit somewhat reddened around the lids, crossed the hall, and, going up to Oily, kissed her round cheek! " I thought it was your voice, and, although I was just going to bed," she added gayly with a slightly apologetic look at her charming dishabille, " I had to come in and be sure it was you. And where have you been, you naughty girl ? Do vou know I shall be dreadfully jealous of this Mrs. Markle. Omie and tell me all about her. C'ome. You shall stay with me to-night, and we won't let brother Gabe hear our little secrets- shall we ? Come ! " And before the awe-struck Gabriel could believe his own senses she had actually whisked the half pleased, iialf-frightencd child into her own room, and he was left standing alone. Nor was he the less amazed, although relieved of a certain unde- fined anxiety for the child, when, a moment later, Oily herself, thrust her curly head out of the door, and calling out, '' Good- night, old (]abe," with a mischievous accent, shut and locked the door in his face. For a moment Gabriel stood petrified on his own hearthstone. Was he mistaken, and had Mrs. Con- roy's anger actually been nothing but a joke ? Was Oily really sincere in her dislike of his wife ? Tliere was but one apparent solution to these various and perplexing problems, and that was the general incomprehensibility of the sex. " The ways o' women is awful onsartin," said Gabriel, as he sought the solitary little room which had been set apart for Oily, " and somehow J ain't the man ez hez the gift o' lindin' them out." And with these reflections he went ai>')logetically, yet, to a certain extent, contentedly, as was his usual habit, to bed. ■'!!>• N. ' IN WHICH IHK IkKASLKK IS TOUND — AND LObl. 1G'.» I . CHAPTER XXIV. IN WHICFI THK TRKASURK IS FoLNO — AND LOST. As no word has been handed down of the conversation lliat night between Oily and her sister-in-law, I fear the masculine ri'.ulcr must view their subsecjuent conduct in the light of Crabriel's abstract proposition. The feminine reader — to whose Well known sense of justice and readiness to acknowledge a characteristic weakness, I chiefly commend these pages- will of course re([uire no further explanation, and will be cjuite ready t( believe that the next morning Oily and Mrs. Conroy Were a[)parently firm friends, and that (labriel was incontinently snubbed by both of these ladies as he deserved. "You don't treat July right," said Oily one morning to Gabriel, during five minutes that she had snatched from the in- separable company of Mrs. Conroy. Ciabriel opened his eyes in wonder. " I hain't been 'round the li'Hise mu( h, because I allowed you and July didn't want my ke : pany," he began apologetically, "and ef it's shortness f provisions, .I've fooled away so much time, Oily, in pro- spcclin' that ledge that I had no time to clar u\) and get any (Just.. I reckon, may be, the pork bar'l is low. Hut I'll fix tlict straight soon. Oily, soon." "Hut it ain't thet, (iabe — it ain't provisions — it's— it's— -O ! you ain''. got no sabe ez a husband- thar ! " burst out the direct Oily, at last. Without the least sign of resentment, Ciabriel looked thought- fully at his sister. " Thet's so — I reckon thet is the thing. Not hevin' been married afore, and bein', so to speak, strange and green-hand ed. like as not I don't exactly come up to the views of a woman e/, hez hed thet experience. And her husband a savang ! a savang ! Oily, and a larned man." "You're as good as him!" ejaculated Oily, hastily, whose pans of speech were less accurately placed than her feelings, " and I reckon she loves you a heap better, (iabe. But you M i « 4 170 GAJiKIKI, CONKOY. . * ain't fiuile lovin' cnougli," slic added as (liibriel started. '"Whv thar was tliet young roiiple thet rie], looking down a little shamefully on the twining arms of his sister. * Yes in course - afore folks. Why, they want it to he kiiown that thev're married.'' "Oily," broke out (labriel dcs])erately, "your sistcr-iii law ain't thet kind of a woman. She'd re<'kon thet kind o' ihini: was low." But Oily only rci)lied by casting a mischievous look at her brother, sh. iking her curls, and with the mysterious admonition "Trv it!" left him, and went back to iMrs. Conroy. Happily for (iabriel, Mrs. Conrov did not offer an opjuir- tunity for the exliibition of any tenderness on Oabriel's ])art. Although she di^i not make any allusion to the past, and even utterly ignored any previous quarrel, she still preserved a cer- tain coy demeanor toward him, that, while it relieved him o\ an oneroiM duty, very greatly weakened his faith in the infalli- bility of Olly's judgment. When, out of respect to that jiul^f mcnt, he went so far as to throw his arms ostentatiously around his wife's waist, one Sunday, while perambulating the single long i)ublic street of One H(^rse (iulch, and that lady, with great decision, quietly slipped out of his embrace, he doubted still more. " J did it on account o' wot vou said. Ollv, and darn niv skin if she seemed to like it at all, and even the boys hanuiiv around seemed to think it was ([uecr. Jo Hobson sni( ki-red right out." "When was it?" said Oily. " Sunday." Oily (sharplv): "Where?" 'n;.;,^].-, IN WHICH I UK TRKASURK IS FOUND — AND I.OSr, 171 I . • (lafiric '* On Main street.'' \.)11> ^a[)i Lrr ])hizing hea" en with her bhic eyes) : " Kf thar ever was a ( od forsak- :i bUmdcrin' iiuilc, (-be, it's you !" (iahncl ■ nildl; and thoiij^IufiiUy) : *• 'l'hi:t's so." Il()\vl»c I, sonic kind of a hollow Lnice was patched up be- iAotii tl.csc three belli/er ..ts, and Mrs. (,'onroy did not f{o to Stin Francisco on inisiness. It is presumed that the ur^^Lncy of her affairs there was relieved by correspondrnce, lor during the next two weeks shi« expressed nuu h anxiety on the arrival ofl'h'.: rq^ular triweekly mails. And one day it brought her not only a letter, bat n individual oi" .some iniportani e in tliis history. He got down from the Wingdam coach amid considerable local enthusiasm. Ai)art tV(Mn the tact that it was well known that he was a rich .San Fran* isco banker and capitalist, hi;-, brusciue. sharp energy, his ca.sy, skej)tical familiarity and generrt (onlenii , for and ignoring of everything but the jiracti(al as material,- and, above all, his reputation tor success, which seemed to make that success a wholesome business principle rather than good fortune, — had already fa.s( inated the pae;sen- gers who had listened to his curt spee( h, and halt' oracular axioms. They had forgiven d(.)giiiatisins voi( r(.' in such a hearty manner, and em|)hrisi/ed. pos.^iblv. wth a slap on the back of the listener. Fie had already converted them to his broad materialism, — less, i)erhaps, by his curt rhetoric than by tlie logic of his habitual business success, and the respecta- bility that it commanded. It was easy to accept skepticism iVoni a man who evidently had not suffered by it. Radicalism and democracy are much more fascinating to us when the apostle is in comfortable case and easy circumstances than when he is clad in fustian, and consistently out of a situation. Human nature thirsts for the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, but would prefer to receive it tVom the happy owner of a latch-key to the (iarden of F'den than the pilferer who had just been ejected from the premises. It is probable, how vver, that the possessor of these admir- able (jualities had none of that fine scorn for a mankind acces- sible to this weakness, which at present hlls the breast of the writer, and, I trnst, the reader of these pages. If he had, 1 [)-■ Ji^^nlLx. 172 GAbRIKI, CONROY. (lf)ul)t if lie would iiavL- ])cen surressful. Like a true hern. 1,^ was quite unconscious of the (juality of his heroism, and utter- ly unal)le to analyze it. So that, without any previous ( ah ula tions, or pre arran^^ed plan, he managed to get rid of his adniir ers, and aj>|)iy himself to the business he had in hand without either willfully misleading the public of One Horse (iuUh, or giving the slightest intimation of what that real business was. I'hat the general interests of One Horse Oulch had attrac ttd the attention of this [)owerful cajjitalist that he intended to erect a new Hotel or "start" an independent line of siauc coaches from Sacramento, were among the accepted theories. Everybody offered him vast and gratuitous information, and out of the various facts and theories submitted to him, he gain- ed the i)arti( ular knowledge he re(|uired without asking for it. (iiven a rejjutalion for business shrewdness and omnipresence in any one individual, and the world will speedily place him beyond the necessity of using them. And so in a casual, general way, the stranger was shown over the Length and Breadth and Thickness and Present and Future of One Horse (lulch. When he had reached the further ex- tremity of the Gulch he turned to his escort — " I'll make the inf]uiry you ask now." "How?" " By telegraph - if you'll take it." He tore a leaf from a memorandum-book and wrote a few lines. "And you?" "Oh, I'll look around here — I suppose there's not much be- yond this ?" " No, the next claim is Gcd)riel Conrov's." " Not much account, I reckon ?" " No? it pays him grub !" " Well — dine with me at three o'clock, when and where you choose — you know best. Invite whom you like, (iood-bye!" and the great man's escort, thus dismissed, departed, lost in admiration of the decisive promjUitude and liberality of his guest. Left to himself, the stranger turned his footsteps in the direc- tion of Gabriel Conrov's claim. Had he been an admirer of IN WHICH THK TRKASURE IS FOUND— AND LOST. l73 4 « Nature, or accessible to any of those infliK'nces \vlii< li n con- icmi)lation of wild scenery is apt to produce in weaker lumian- ity, he would have been awed by the grndual transition of a pastoral landsc ape to one of uncouth heroics. In a few min- utes he had left the belt of sheltering pines and entered ujjon the ascent of a shadowless, scorched and blistered mountain, that iiere and there in places of vegetation had i)Ut on the ex- crescences of scoria, or a singular eruption of crust, that, lireaking beneath his feet in slippery gray i)ow(ler, made his touting ditificult and un< ertain. Had he been possessed of a stientilu: eye, he would have noted here and there the evidences of volcanic action, in the sudden depressions, the abrupt eleva- tions, the marks of disruption and upheaval, and the river-like llow of debris that i)rotruded a black tongue in the valley below. But I am constrained to believe that the stranger's dominant impression was simply one of heat. Half-way up the asc ent he took off his coat and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. Nevertheless, certain peculiarities in his modes of progression showed him to be not unfamiliar with mountain travel. Two or three times during the ascent he stopiJt'd, and, facing about, carefully re-surveyed the jjath be- neath him. Slight as was the action, it was the unfailing sign of the mountaineer, who recognized that the other side of a mountain was as yet an un-determined (juantity, and was pre- pared to retrace his ste|)S if necessary. At the summit he paused and looked around him. 1 Immediately at his feet the Gulch which gave its name to the settlement, and from which the golden harvest was gath- ered, l,)roadened into a thickly wooded valley. Its (juivering depths were suffused by the incense of odorous gums and l)alms liberated by the fierce heat of the noonday sun that rose to his face in soft, tremulous waves and filled the air with its heated spices. Through a gap in the canon to the west, a faint, scarcely distinguishal)le line of cloud indicated the Coast Range. North and south, higher hills arose, heavily terraced with straight colonnades of pines, that made the vast black monolith on which he stood appear blacker and barer by con- tract. Higher hills to the east— one or two peaks — and between them in the sunlight odd-looking, indistinct, vacant ■{. 174 (lAHKIKI, fONRDY. * intervals blrinks in liic lands'-npc* as yet not tilled in will color or expression. Yet the stranger knew tlieni to be snow. and for a few moments seemed tax inaled — ga/ing at them witl, a fixed eye and rigid mouth, until, with an effort he t(;re him self away. S( attered over the summit were numerous holes that ;i|i peared to have been recently sunk. In one of them the stranger picked uj) a fragment of the crMml)le(l rock and examined it carelessly. Then he slowly descended the geiulcr sl()|)e toward the west, in a direction of a claim wherein W\-, (juick eye had discovered a man at work. A walk of a few moments brought him to the bank of red clay, the heap ol tailings, the wooden sluice-box, and the pan and shovel wliii h constituted the a])purtenanres of an ordinary ( laim. As ho approa( hed nearer, the workman rose from the bank over which he was bending, and, leaning on his pick, turned his fiue to the new-c^omer. His broad, athletic figure, his heavy blonde beard, and serious, perplexed eyes were unmistakable. It was (lahiiel Conroy. " How are ye?" said the stranger, briskly extending a hand which (iabriel took mechanically. " You're looking well ! Ke- collect r('//, but you don't recollect me. Eh?" He lauglud curtly, in a fashion as short and business-like as his spee( h, and then fixed his eyes rather impatiently on the hesitating (labriel. Gabriel could only stare, and struggle with a tide of thi( k- coming remembrances. He looked around iiim ; the sun was beating down on the old familiar objects, everything was un- changed—and yet this fi\ce, this voice — " I'm here on a matter of business," continued the stranger briskly, dismissing the question of recognition as one unessen- tial to the business in hand — "and — what have you got to i>ro- pose?" He leaned lightly against the bank, and supported himself by thrusting Gabriel's pickaxe against the bank as he waited a reply. " It's Peter Dumphy," said (iabriel in an awe-stricken voice. *' Yes. You recollect me now ! Thought you would. It's five years and over — ain't it! Rough times them, Gabriel— warn't they? Eh ! But youfe lookin' well — doin' well, too. Hpe« imens," he added, eyeing (labriel keenly, "the s|)e» imens you sent me." " \Vhat specimens?' said (labriel vaguely, still lost in the [U>1. "The ones your wife sent me,— all the same thing, you ;n(.\v. " Ikit it ain't," said Gabriel with his old truthful directness. '•\ou better talk to her 'bout thet. Thet's her lookout. I rc( kon now she did say suthin','' continued (iabriel, medita- uvcly, "about sendin' rock to Fri.sco to be tested, but I ilidn't soniehow get to take an interest in it. ],eastways it's her fun- eral. You'd better see her." It was Mr. JJumphy's turn to be perplexed. In his perfect misapprehension of the character of the man before him, he saw only skillful business evasion under the guise of simplicity, fie rememl)ered, moreover, that in the earlier days of his pr()s|)erity as Dumphy .S: Jenkins, Commission Merchants, he was himself in the habit of referring customers with whom he was not ready to treat, to Jenkins, very much as he had just now been referred to Mrs. Conroy. "Of course," he said biSskly ; "only I thought I'd save time, which is short with me to-day, by t (fining directly to you. May not have time to see her. Hut you can write." "Thet's so," said (labriel, " p'r'ajjs its just as well in the lung run. Ef ye don't e her, she'll know it ain't your fault. I'll let on that much to h^ n" And having disposed of this un- iiiilH)rtant feature of the interview, he continued, " Ye haven't heard naught o' (jrace — ye mind Grace? l)umi)hy!--a purty little girl ez was with me ui^ thar. Ve ain't heerd anything o' her- -nor seen her, may be — hev you?" Of course this question at such a moment was to Mr. Duniphy su^^ei^ible of only one meaning. It was that Mrs. Cuiiro) had confessed everything to Gabriel, and that he wished •1 . 17(J GAHHIKL CON ROY. • » il ^,^1.- to use Diimphy's complicity in the deceit as a lever in futiiro business transactions. Mr. Dumphy felt he had lo deal with two consummate actors -one of whom was a natural hypo( litc, For the first ume in his life he was impatient of evil. \W never admire truth and sincerity so highly as when we find it wanting in an adversary, "Ran off with some fellow, didn't she? Yes, I remembir. You won't see her again. It's just as well for you ! I'd (all her dead, anyway." Although Dumphy was convinced that Gabriel's interest in the fate of his si.sier was hyi)Ocritical, he was not above a Chris- tian hope that this might wound a brother's feelings. He turned to go. " Can't you come back this v/ay and hev a little talk about ol' tin.es?" said Gabriel, warming toward I)umi)hy under the magic of old associations, and ignoring with provoking ancon sciousness the sting of his last speech. "There's Oily ez 'iid just admire to see ye. Ye mind Oily? — the baby, Grace's- little sister, growed a fine likely gal now. See yer," continued Gabriel with sudden energy, putting down his pick and shovel. "I'll jess go over thar with ye now." " No ! no !" said Dumphy quickly. " Busy ! Can't ! 'Nothei time ! Good-day ; see you again some time. So long !" and he hurriedly departed, retracing his steps until the claim and its possessor were lost in the intervening foliage. Then he paused, hesitated, and then, striking across the summit of the hill, made his way boldly to Gabriel's cottage. Either Mrs. Conroy was expecting him, or had detected him coming through the woods, for she opened the door to him and took him into her little parlor with a graciousness of de- meanor and an elaboration of toilet that would have been dan ;erous to any other man. But, like most men with a de- servedly bad reputation among women, Mr. Dumphy always rigidly separated any weakness of gallantry from his business. •* Here only for a few moments. Sorry can't stay longer. You're looking well !" said Mr. Dumphy. Mrs. Conroy said she had not expected the pleasure of a per- sonal interview , Mr. Dumphy must be so busy always. " Yes. But I like to bring good news myself. The speri- V- ' IN WmCM IMK TREASUkE IS EOUND — ANb i.OST. 177 • ' . mens you sent mc have been assayed by first-class, reliable men. They'll do. No gold — but eighty per cent 'silver. Hey I P'r'aps you exjjccted it." lUit Mr. Dumphy could see plainly from Mrs. Conr()y'.s eager fa( e that she had not exi)ected it. " Silver," she gasj)ed — " eighty per cent ! " He was mystified, but relieve*' It was evident that she had not consulted anybody else, and that he was first on the ground. So he said curtly : " What do you proi)ose ?" " I don't know," began the lady. " I haven't thought " " Ivxactly," interrupted Dumi)hy " Haven't got any propo- sition. Excuse me — but" (taking out his watch) "time's nearly up. Look here. Eighty per cent.'s big thing ! j>ut Silver mine takes (jold mine to run it. All exjjense first — no profit till you get down. Works, smeltmg — cost twenty i)er cent. Here's my i)roposition. Put whole thing in joint stock company. loo shares. Five millions capital. You take 50 shares. I'll take 25 — -dispose of other twenty-five as 1 can. How's diat? Hey? You can't say? Well— think of it !" But all Mrs. Conroy could think of was two and a half millions ! It stared at her, stretching in gigantic ciphers across the room. It blazed in golden letters on checks —it rose on glittering piles of silver coin to the ceiling of the parlor. Yet she turned to him with a haggard face and said : * But — this — this money — is only in prosjjective." " Cash vour draft for the sum ten minutes after the stock's issued. That's l)usiness." Witli this certainty Mrs. Conroy recovered herself. *' I will talk — with--my husband," she said. Mr. Dumphy smiled —palpably, openly, and shamelessly. Mrs. Conroy colored quickly, but not from the consciousness Mr. Dumphy attributod to her, of detected cunning. She had begun to be ashamed of the position she believed she occupied in this man's eves, and fearful that he should have di.scovered her husband's indifference to her. " I've already seen him," said Mr. Dum])hy (juietly. The color dro])i)ed from Mrs. C^nroy's cheeks. " He knows nothing of this," she said faintly. •1' 178 (lAHRlEI, CONROV. % * " Of coLiise," said iJuniphy, half contemptuously, "he said so; referred to you. That's all right. That's business." " You did not tell him you dared not " she said e\ cited ly. Mr. Dumphy looked curiously at her for a moment. Then he rose and shut the d(jor. " J.ook here," he said, facing Mrs. Conroy in a hard matter of fact-way, " do you mean to say that what that man — your husband .said, was true? 'I'hat he kncnvs nothing of you; ot the circumstances under which you came here?" " He does not — 1 swear to God he does not," she said j)assionately. It was inexi)li(able, but Mr. Dumphy believed her. " lUit how will you explain this to him ? You can do nothing without him." " Why should he know more ? If he has discovered this mine, it is his — free of any gift of mine — as indei)endent of any claim of mine as if we were strangers. The Law makes him the owner of the mine that he discovers, no matter on whose land it may be found. In personating his sister, I only claimed a grant to the land. 1 le has made the discovery which gives it its value ! Even that sister," she added with a sudden tlash in her eyes — " even that sister, were she living, coukl not take it from him now ! " It was true ! This woman, with whose weakness he had l)layed, had outwitted them all, and slip})ed through their fingers, almost without stain or blemish. And in a way so simple! Duped as he had been, he could hardly restrain his admiration, and said, quite frankly and he^atily : " Clood— that's business." And then — ah me! this clever creature — this sharp adventur- ess, this Anonyma Victrix began to cry and to beg him not lo tell her husband ! At this familiar sign of the universal feminine weakne>^ f)um])hy pricked up his ears and arts again. "Where's your j^roof that your husband is the first discoverer?^'" he said curtly, but not unkindly. "Won't that pajjir that Mr !)evarges gave his sister show that the Doctor w.s really the discoverer of this lead ? ' .(■•- IN WHICH I'HE TREASURE IS FOUND -AND I.OSI, 171) t . '* Yes, l)iit Dr. Dcvarges is dead, and I hold the pajicr." " Good ! " He took out his watch. " I've five minutes more. Now look here. I'm not going to say that you haven't managed this thing well — d — d well — you have ! — and that vou can, if you like, get along without me ! — you can I See ! I'm not going to say that I went into this thing without the j)r()Si)ect of making something out of it myself 1 have! 'I'hat's i)iisiiiess. The thing for you to consider new is this : under- standing each other as we do, couldn't you push this thing through better with my help — and helj^ing me than to go elsewhere? Understpnd me ! You could fnul a dozen men in San Francisco who would make you as good an offer and better ! But it wouldn't be to their interest to keep down any unpleasant reminders of the past as it would be mine. You understand ?" Mrs. Conroy replied by extending her hand. " To keep my secret from every one — from hwi," she said earnestly. " Certainly — f/iat's business ! " Then these two artful ones shook hands with a heartfelt and loyal admiration and belief for each other that 1 fear more honest folks might hav« profited by, and Mr. Dumphy went off to dine. As Mrs. Conroy closed the front door Oily came running in from the back piazza. Mrs. Conroy caught her in her arms and discharged her pent-up feelings, and, let us hope, her penitence, in a jovful and passionr.te embrace. But Oily struggled to ex- tricate herself. When at last she got her head free, she said angrily : " Let me go. I want to see him." "Who — Mr Dumphy?" asked Mrs Conroy, still holding the child, with a half-hysterical laugh. " Yes. Gabe said he was here. Let me go, T say !" "What do you want with him?" asked her (•a])tor with shrill gayety. "Gabe says — Gabe says — let me go, will you? Gal)e says hckncv; " " Whom ?" A ,' • 180 GABRIEL CONROY. . * "My dear, dear sister Clrace ! There! I didn't mean ui hurt you —but I must go ! " And she did, leaving the i)rospective possessor of Two and Half Millions, vexed, suspicious, and alone. CHAPTER XXV. MR. DUMPHV MEETS AN OLD FRIEND. ■ •n «4 .•••f» Peter Dumphv was true to his client. A few days after he had returned to San Francisco he dispatched a note to Victor. asking an interview. He had reasoned that, although Victor was van([uished and heli)less regarding the late discoveiy at One Horse (iulch, yet his complicity with Mrs. Conroy's earlier dc ceit might make it advisable that his recollection of that event should be effaced. He was waiting a reply when a card was brought to him by a clerk. Mr. Dumphy glanced at it im l)atiently, and read the name of " Arthur Poinsett." Autocrat as Dumphy was in his own counting-house and business circle, the name was one of such recognized power in California that he could not ignore its claims to his attention. More than that, it represented a certain respectability and social elevation, whi( h Dumphy, with all his skejHicism and democratic assertion, could not with characteristic shrewdness afford to undervalue. He said, " Show him in," without lifting his head from the papers that lay ui)on his desk. The door opened again to an elegant-lo(/i:ing young man. who lounged carelessly into the awful presence without an} o! that a" ■, with which the habitual b^iSUirss v^lsitors approached Petei i' Mo'i-. Indeed it was po;:sible that never l)efore had Mr. Dump.!)' • dooi opened to one who was less affected by the greai" cr^nit.ilist's reputation. Nevertheless, with the natural ease uf gO' :'d breedini:. after dc[.ositing his hat ,on the table, bi- walked i^'-tly vo the ure-place, and stood with his back toward i;..!''*-' : MR. DU.MFHY MKfcTS AN <)lJi KklKNI). 181 Mr. I . it with (KHiikJOUs, but pciliaps too indilTci-ont patience. Diiniijhy was at last obliged to look up. " iiusy, I see," yawned Poinsett, with languid i)oliteness. " Don't let me disturb you. 1 thought your man said you were disengaged. Must have made a mistake." Mr. Dumphy was forced to lay aside his pen and rise, in- wardly i^rotesting. "• You don't know me by my card. I have the advantage, I think," continued the young man, with a smile, '' even in the mere memory of faces. The last Umc I saw you let me see-- five years ago. Yes ! you were chewing a scrap of buffalo hide lo keej) yourself from starving." " Philij) Ashley," said Mr. Dumjjhy in a low voice, looking hastily around, and drawing nearer the stranger, " Precisely," returned Poinsett, somewhat impatiently raising his own voice. " That was my Jiom de giten-c. But Dumphy .seems to have hciin your real name after all." If Dumphy had conceived any idea of embarrassing Poinsett by the suggestion of an a/ias, in his case, he could have dis- missed it after this half-contemptuous recognition of his own projjer cognomen. But he had no such idea. In si)ite of his utmost effort he felt himself gradually falling into the same relative position — the srime humble subordination he had ac- cepted five years before. It was useless to think of his wealth, of his i)0wer, of his surroundings. Here in his own bank parlor he was submissively waiting the will and pleasure of this strangt . He made one more despe/ate attempt to regain his lost prestij. . " You have some business with me, eh? Poinsett!" 1 e commenced the sentence with a dignity and ended with a familiarity equally inefficacious. " Of course," said Poinsett carelessly, shifting his legs beiore the fire. " Shouldn't have called otherwise on a man o such affairs, at such a time. You are interested, I hear, in a mine recently discovered at One Horse Ciulch on the Rancho of The Blessed Innocents. One of my clients holds a grant, not yet confirmed, to the Rancho." "Who?" said Mr. Dumphy, cjuickly. " I believe that is not important, nor essential for yor. to know until we make a formal claim," returned Arthur ([ui'vily. .4- > ■: 182 OABKIEI, CONKDY. t • '* but I don't mind satisiying your curicjsity. It's Miss Dolores Salvatierra." Mr. Dumphy felt relieved, and began with gathering couraLje and l)rus(|ueness, "That don't affect — " " Your .alining claim; not in the least," interrupted Arliiur (luictly. "J am not here to press or urge any rights that \\c may have. We may not even sul)mit the grant for patent. lUii my client would like to know something of the present tenant:., or, if you will, owners. You represent them, 1 think? A man and wife. The woman appears first as a spinster, assuming to be Mi.ss Grace Conroy, to whou) an alleged transfer of an alleged grant was given. She next appears as the wife of (jiic (iabriel Conroy, who is, I believe, an alleged brother of the alleged Miss Grace Conroy. You'll admit, I think, it's a pretty mixed business, and would make a pretty bad showini,^ in court, liut this abjudicature we are not yet prei)ared to demand. What we want to know is this — and I came to you Dumphy, as the man most able to tell us. Is the sister or the brother real — or are they both impostors? Is there a legal marriage ? Of course your legal interest is not jeopardized in any event." Mr. Dumphy partly regained his audacity. " You ought to Vwow-you ran away with the real Grace Conroy," he said putting his hands in his pockets. " Did I? then this is not she, if I understand you. Thanks! And the brother — " " Is Gabriel Conroy, if I know the man," said Dumphy, shortly, feeling that he had been entrapped into a tacit admission. " But why don't you satisfy yourself? " " You have been good enough to render it unnecessary," said Arthur with a smile. " I do not doubt your word. I am, I trust, too much a lawyer to doubt the witness I myself have summoned. B.ut who is this woman ? " " The widow of Dr. Devarges." "1^^-' -w/ thing?" A The >c( " Yes, unless Grace Conroy should lay claim to that title and privilege. The.oM man seems to have been j^retty much divided in his property and affections." The shaft did not apparently reach Arthur, tor whom it was '*■ '•% MR. DUMl'HV MKK'IS AN Of>I) KKIFNI). l^'A < . probably intended. He only said, " Have you legal evidence that she is the widow ? If it were a fact, and a case of ill- treatment or hardshi[), why it might abate the claim of my (licnt, who is a rich woman, and whose sympathies are o^f course ill favor of the real brother and real sister. By the way, there is another sister, isn't there?"' " Yes, a mere child." "That's all. Thank you. I sha'n't tre.si)ass ftiriher upon your time, (iood day." He had taken up his hat and was moving toward the door. Mr. Dumphy who felt that whatever might have been I'oinsett's motives in this interview, he, l)umi)hy, had cerlainly gained nothing, determined to retrieve himself, if possible, l)y a stroke of audacity. "One moment," he said, as Poinsett was carefully settling his hat over his curls. *' You know whether this girl is living or not. What has become of her ? " "But I don't," returned Poinsett, calmly, "or I shouldn't come to you." There was something about Poinsett's manner that prevented l)iimj)hy from putting him in the category of "all men," that hoth in his haste and his deliberation Mr. Dumphy was apt to say " were liars." " When and where did you see her last ! " he asked, less curtly. "1 left her at a hunter's cabin near the North Fork while I went back for help. I was too late. A relief party irom the valley had alreay discovered the other dead. When I returned lor (irace she was gone —possibly with the relief party. I always supposed it was the expedition that succored you." There was a pause in which these two scam])s looked at each other. It will be remembered that both had deceived the relief ])arty in reference to their connections with the unfortunate dead. Neither believed, however, that the other was aware of the fact. But the inferior scam]^ was afraid to ask another question that might disclose his own falsehood; ind the question which might have been an embarrassing one lo Arthur, .and have changed his attitude toward Ouniphy, remained unasked. Not knowing the reason of Dumphy's mWB. ; . 184 i;afirikl conroy. .?'* -: ■ .1 t hesitation, Arthur was satisfied of his ignorance, and was slill left the ninsler. He nodded carelessly to Duniphy and with drew. As he left the room he brushed against a short, thick-set man. who was entering at the same moment. Some instinct ot mutual repulsion ciiused the two men to look at each other, Poinsett beheld a sallow face, that, in si)ite of its belonging to a S(]uare figure, seemed to have a consumptive look; a face whose jaw was narrow and whose lips were always half-j)arted over white, large and protruding teeth ; a mouth that ai)i)arently was always breathless- -a mouth that Mr. Poinsett remembered as the distinguishing and unpleasant feature of some one vaguely known to him professionally. As the mouth gasped and parted further in recognition, Poinsett nodded carelessly in return, and attri'l)uting his repulsion to that extraordinary feature, thought no more about it. Not so the new-comer. He glanced suspiciously after Arthny and then at Mr. Dumphy. The latter who had recovered his presence of mind and his old audacity, turned them instantly upon him. " Well ! What have you got to propose ? " he said, with his usual curt fornni'/i, " It is youhavi something to say; you sent for w^," said his visitor. "Yes. You left me to find out that there is another grant to that mine. W^hat does ail this mean, Ramirez ? " Victor raised his eyes and yellow fringes to the ceiling, and g^id, with a shrug. " Quien sahe ? there are grants — and grants. " So it seems. But I suppose you know we have a title now Ijetter than any grant — a mineral discovery ! " Victor bowed and answered with his teeth, " We, eh?" " Yes, I am getting up a company for her husband," ■'Her husband— good ! " Dum))hy looked at his accomplice keenly. There was something in Victor's manner that was vaguely suspicious. Dumphy, who was one of those men to whose courage the habit of SHCcess in all things was essential, had b(?(;n a litiit; .Mk. IiCMPHV .MKF/;/ AN Of.D FklKND. 185 >luikcn l>y iiis signul defeat in his interview with T-iinsett, and ii.iw hecauK' irrital'le. ■• \ es her Inisband. What have you got to propose about It, eh? Nothing? Wei!, hjok here. I sent h)r you to j,ay that as everything now is legal and square, ytjii might as well dry up in regard to her former relations or your first scheme. Vou sale ? " Dum[)Iiy became slangy as he lost his self-contr(jl. "You are to know nothing about Miss (hace Conroy." "And there is no more any sister, eh — only a wife?" '•Exactly." "So." "You will of course get something for these preliminary stejjs of yours, although you understand they have been useless, and that your claim is virtually dead. You are in fact in no way connected with her ])resent success. Unless, unless," added Duinphy, with a gratuitous malice that defeat had engendered, "unless you exiject something for having been the means ot making a match between her and Gabriel." Yictor turned a little more yellow in the thin line over his teeth. "'Ha! ha! good— a joke," he laughed. " No, I make no charge to you from that ; not even to you. No ha ! ha ! " At the same moment had Mr. Dumphy known what was passing in his mind he would have i)robal)ly moved a little nearer the door of his counting-room. "There's nothing we can pay you for but silence. We may as well understand each other regarding that. That's your interest; it's ours only so far as Mrs. Conroy's social standing is rfmcerned, for 1 warn you that exposure might seriously I ()m|)rouiise you in a business way, while it would not hurt us. J lould get the value of Gabriel's claim to the mine advan< ed to-iiujrrow, if the whole story were known to-night. If you rcineniber, the only evidence of a previous discovery exists in a jKiptr in our possession. Perhaps we pay you for that. Consider it so, if you like. C'onsider also that any attempt to i^et hold of it legally or otherwise would end in its destruction. \Vr]!. what do you say? All right. When the stock is issued 111 write you .1 check; or perhaps you'd take a share of StUCK I. > » K \m GABRIEL CONROV. " I would prefer the money," said Victor, with a |)e( uliar hui^h. Dunijjhy afferted to take no notice of the sarcasm. '• ^■(Hlr head is level, Victor," he said, returning to his papers. " 1 )(in't meddle with stocks, (lood day !" Victor moved toward the door. " Hy the way, Victor," snid Dumphy, looking up calmly, "if yf)U know the owner of this lately discovered grant, you might intimate that any litigation wouldn't i)ay. That's what I told their counsel a moniint ago." "Poinsett?" asked Victor, pausing, with his hand on the door. "Yes! Hut as he also happens to he I'riilip Ashley the chap who ran of with (Irace Conroy, you had belter go and see him. Perhaps he can help you better than I. Ciood day." And, turning from the petrified Victor, Mr. Dumphy, conscious that he had fully regained his prestige, rang his bell to admit the next visitor. .. ^ , 1 CHAPTER XXVI. MR. JACK HAMLIN TAKES A HOLIDAY. For some weeks Mr. Hamlin had not been well, or, as he more happily expressed it, had been "off color." The • IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 130 2.2 ^ 1^ ill ^ ti^ IIIIIM 1.8 U ill 1.6 V] vQ M ^3 > •^c"* <^-.V /. > > /A ^j V Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTlER, NY. M580 1716) 872-4503 ^' m 1 1 l!"i'-l /i > « ■ 1 188 GABRIEL CONROY. SO the next day, in a queer old-fashioned diligence, he crossed the coast range, and drifted into the (juiet Mission of San An tonio. Here he was so done up and bored with the journc) and the unpromising aspect of the town, that he quietly yielded his usual profane^l^adinage of the landlord to his loyal hench- man and negro body-servant " Pete,'* and went to bed at the solitary " Fonda," in the usual flea-infested bed-room of the Spanish California inn. " What does she look like, Pete ? " said Jack languidly. Pete, who was familiar with his master's peculiarities of speech, knew that the feminine pronoun referred to the town, and responded with great gravity : " De fac* is, Mahs Jack, dah don't peah to be much show heah foh you. Deys playin' three-card monte in the bah room, but 'tain't no squar game. It 'ud do you no good, it might jess rile you. Deys a fass pinto hoss hitched to a poss in de yard — a hoss dat de owner don't seem to understand nohow. If you was right smart agin, I might let you go down dar and get a bet outer some o' dem Greasers. But 'twon't do nohow. Deys a kind o' school — Sunday-school, I reckon — nex doah. Lots o' little children saying prayers, singin' and praisin' de Lord, sah." " What day is this ?" asked Jack, with sudden trepidation. " Sunday, sah." Jack uttered a plaintive groan and rolled over. " Give one of those children a quarter, and tell him there's another quarter waiting for him up here." " You won't get no child to fool wid dis day, Mahs Jack, shuah. Deys bound to get licked when dey goes. Folks is mighty hard on dem boys, Sunday, sah ; and it's de Lord's day, Mahs Jack." Partly for the sake of horrifying his attendant, who, notwith- standing his evil associations, was very devout. Jack gave way to violent denunciation of any system of theology that with held children from rompmg with him any day he might select. " Open that window," he groaned, finally, " and shove the bed alongside of it. That'll do. Hand me that novel. You needn't read to me to day ; you can finish that * Volney's Ruins' another lime." , .^. MR. JACK HAMLIN TAKKS A HOLIDAY. 189 It may be remarked here that it had been Jack's invalid habit to get Pete to read to him. As he had provided himself with such books as were objectionable to Pete, as they were always utterly incomprehensible when filtered through his dia- lect, and as he always made the reader repeat the more diffi- cult words, he extracted from this diversion a delicious enjoy- ment, which Pete never suspected. "■ " You can go now," he said, when Pete had arranged him comfortably. " I sha'n't want you this afternoon. Take some money. I reckon you won't find any church of your kind here, but if anybody interferes with you, jest lambaste him ! If you can't do it, jest spot him, and I will ! (Mr. Hamlin never allowed anybody but himself to object to his follower's religious tendencies.) Have a good time, Pete ! Don't tangle yourself up if you can help it. The liquor about here is jest pizen." With this parting adjuration Mr. Hamlin turned over and tried to devote himself to his book. But after reading a few lines the letters somehow got blurred and indistinct, and he was obliged to put the book down with a much graver recollec- tion of the doctor's warning than he had ever had before. He was obliged to confess to a singular weariness and lassitude that had become habitual, and to admit that he had more pain at times than — as he put it — " a man ought to have." The idea of his becoming blind or paralyzed dawned upon him gradually, at first humorously ; wondering if he couldn't deal faro as well without the use of his legs, for instance, which were of no account to a man under the table ; if there could not be raised cards for the blind as well as raised letters. The idea of feeling a " pair " or a " flush " amused him greatly, and then he remembered more gravely poor Gordon, who, becoming gradu- ally paralyzed, blew his brains out. " The best thing he could do," he soliloquized seriously. The reflection, however, had left such a depressing effect upon his mind that the exaltation of liquor for a moment seemed to be the proper thing for him ; but the next moment, remembering his promise to the doctor, he changed his mind, and — with an effort his reflections. For relief he turned his paling face to the window. It gave upon a dusty court-yard, the soil of which was pulverized by the pawing of countless hoofs during the long, dry summer: ** .' .< • . V <;■ t . '• rv.;. 190 GAHRIKL CONROY. '; * ' .• * •I . < f ■ ■ •1H • uponatiledroofthatro.se above an adobe wall, over which again rose the two stjuare whitewashed towers of the Mission church. Between these towers he caught a glimpse of dark green foliage, and beyond this the shining sea. It was very hot and dry. Scarc»>ly a wave of air stirred the cur'ains of the window. That afternoon the trade-winds which usually harried and bullied the little Mission of San Antonio did not blow, and a writhing wee|)ing willow near the window, that whipi^ed itself into trilling hysterics on the slightest pre- text, was surprised into a stony silence. Even the sea beyond glittered and was breathless. It reminded Jatk of the mouth of the man he met in Sacramento at the hotel, and agam had quarrelled with in San Francisco. And there, absolutely, was the man, the very man, gazing up at the hotel from the shadows of the court-yard. Jack was instantly and illogically furious. Had Pete been there he would at once have sent an insulting message ; but, while he was looking at him, a sound rose upon the air which more pleasantly arrested his attention. It was an organ. Not a very fine instrument, nor skillfully played. But an instrument that Jack was passionately fond of. I forgot to say that he had once occupied the position of organ- ist in the Second Presbyterian Church of Sacramento, until a growing and more healthy public sentiment detected an incon- gruity between his secular and Sunday occupations, and a pro- minent deacon, a successful liciuor-dealer, demanded his resig- nation. Although he afterward changed his attentions to a piano, he never entirely lost his old affections. To become the j)ossessor of a large organ, to introduce it gradually, educating the public taste, as a special feature of a first-class gambling saloon, had al\y;tys been one of Jack's wildest ambitions. So he raised himself ujjon his elbow and listened. He could see also that the adjacent building was really a recent addition to the old Mission church, and that what appeared to be a recess in the wall was only a dee|)ly embrasured window. Presently a choir of fresh young voices joined the organ. Mr. Hamlin listened more attentively ; it was one of Mozart's masses with whu:h he was familiar. lH)r a few moments he forgot his pain and lassitude, and lying there hummed in unison. And then, like a true entliusi. MR. JACK HAMLIN TAKES A HOF IDAY. 191 ' . • ast, unmindful of his surroundings, he lifted his voice, a very touching tenor, well known among his friends — and joined in, drowning, I fear, the fecl)ler i)ipe of the little acolytes within. Indeed, it was a fine sight to see this sentimental scamp, lying sick nigh unto dissolution through a dissipated life and in- famous profession, down ui)on his back in the dingy cuarto of a (heap Spanish inn, voicing the litanies of Madame the Virgin. Ilowbeit, once started in he sang it through, and only paused when the antiphonal voices and organ ceased. Then he lifted his head, and, leaning on his elbow, looked across the court- yard. He had hoped for the appearance of some of the little singers, and had all ready a handful of coin to throw to them, and a few of those ingenious epithets and persuasive argu- ments by which he had always been successful with the young. But he was disaj)pointed. *' I reckon school ain't out yet," he said to himself, and was about to lie down again, when a face suddenly appeared at the grating of the narrow window. Mr. Hamlin as suddenly became breathless, and the color rose to his pale face. He was very susceptible to female beauty, and the face that appeared at the grating was that of a very beautiful Indian girl. He thought, and was ready to swear, that he had never seen anything half so lovely. Framed in the recess of the embrasure as a shrine, it might have been a shadowed devotional image, but that the face was not so angelically beautiful as it was femininely fascinating, and that the large deei)ly fringed eyes had an expression of bright im- patience and human curiosity. From his secure vantage behind the curtain Mr. Hamlin knew that he could not be seen, and so lay and absorbed this lovely bronze apparition which his voice seemed to have evoked from the cold bronze adobe wall. And then, as suddenly, she was gone, and the staring sunlight and glittering sea beyond seemed tcj Mr. Hamlin to have gone too. When Pete returned at sunset, he was amazed and alarmed to find his master dressed and sitting by the window. There was a certain brightness in his eye and an unwonted color in his cheek that alarmed him still more. " You ain't bin and gone done nuffin ag'n de doctor's orders. Mahs Jack?" he began. " You'll find the whisky flask all right, unless you've been ■1 , ' 192 GABRIEL CONROV. t < .• * dippin' into it, you infernal old hypocrite," responded Jack cheerfully, accepting the implied suspicion of his servant. " I've dressed myself because I'm goin' to church to-night, to find out where you get your liquor. I'm happy because I'm virtuous. Trot out that ' Volney's Ruins' and wade in. V'ou'rc gcltin' out o' practice, Pete. Stoj). Because you're religious, blank you, do you expect me to starve ? (jo and order supj)er first! Stop. Where in blank are you going? Here you've been gone three hours on an errand for me, and blank me if you ain't runnin' off without a word about it." "Gone on an errand foh you, sah?" gasped the astonished Pete. " Yo6 ! Didn't I tell you go round and see what was the kind of religious dispensation here?" continued Jack with an unmoved face. " Didn't I charge you j)articularly to observe if the Catholic Church w^s such as a j)rofessing Christian and the former organist of the Second Presbyterian Church of Sacramento could attend ? And now I suppose I've got to find out myself. I'd bet ten to one you ain't been there at all, blank you ! " In sheer embarrassment Pete began to brush his master's clothes with ostentatious and apologetic diligence, and said : " I'se no Papist, Mahs Jack, but if I'd thought—" " Do you suppose, blank you, I'm going to sit here without my sui)per while you abuse the Catholic Church — the only church, blank me, that a gentleman—" but the frightened Pete was gone. The Angelus bell had just rung, and it lacked a full hall hour yet before vespers, when Mr. Hamlin lounged into the old Mission church. Only a few figures knelt lie:^ and there — mere vague, black shadows in the gloom. Aided, perhaps, mr^re by intuition than the light of the dim candles on the high altar, he knew that the figure he looked for was not among them; and seeking the shadow of a column he calmly waited Us approach. It seemed a long time. A heavy-looking woman, redolent of garlic, came in and knelt nearly opposite. A yellow vaquero, «'hom Mr. Hamlin recalled at once as one he hail met on the road hitlier, -a man wliosc Spanish profanity, incited |3y unruly cattle, had excited Jack's jimu^ed admiuition,- 4R. TACK HAMMN TAKES A HOF.IDAY. 1!)3 < . • {lr(»l)l)cd on his kncss, and with equally charactcristir volubility l)i'gan a supplication to the Virgin. Then two or three men, whom Jack recognized as the monte-players of the " Fonda," bogan, as it seemed to Jack, to bewail their losses in lachry- mose accents. And then Mr. Hamlin, highly excited, with a pulse that would have awakened the greatest (oncern of his ;1(K tor, became nervously and magnetically aware that some one else was apparently waiting and anxious as himself, and had turned his head at the entrance of each one of the congrega- tion. It was a figure Jack had at first overlooked. Safe in the shadow of a column, he could \Yatch it without being seen himself. Even in the gloom he could see the teeth and eyes of the man he had observed tJiat afternoon — his old antagonist at Svicramento. Had it been anywhere else, Jack would have indulged his general and abstract detestation of Victor by instantly picking a quarrel with him. As it was, he determined upon following him when he left the church -of venting on him any ])ossible chagrin or disappointment he might the i have, as an excite- ment to mitigate the unsupportable dreariness of the Mission. The passions are not so exclusive as moralists imagine, for Mr. Hamlin was beginning to have his breast filled with wrath against Victor, in proportion as his doubts of the appearance of the beautiful stranger grew stronger in his mind, when two figures momentarily darkened the church porch, and a rustle of silk stole upon his ear. A faint odor of spice penetrated through the incense. Jack looked up, and his heart stopped beating. It was she. As she reached the stall nearly opposite she put aside her black veil, and disclosed the same calm, nymph like face he had seen at the window. It was doubly beautiful now. F-ven the strange complexion had for Jack a bewildering charm. She looked around, hesitated for a moment, and then knelt between the two monte players. With an almost instinctive movement Jack started forward, as if to warn her of the con- taminating contact. And then he stopi)ed, his own face crim- soned with shame. For the first time he had douljted the morality of his profession. The organ pealed out ; the incense swam \ the monotonous » ■ i . .• f\ ID 4 (JAItKIKI. CUNRUY. t ' •* voice of the |)riest rose upon the close, shiggish air, and Mr. Jack Manihn dreanied a dream. lie had dispossessed the cold, mechanical organist, and seating himself at the instru ment, had summoned all the powers of reed and voice to sin;,' the p;eans ah, me ! i fear n(>t of any abstrac t lieing, but of incarnate flesh and blood, lie heard her pure, young voice- lifted beside his ; even in that cold, |)as;sionless comminglin},' there was joy unspeakable, and he knew himself exalted. Yet he was conscious even in his dream, from his own hurried breathing, and something that seemed to swell in his throat, that he could not have sung a note. And then he came bac k to his senses, and a close examination of the figure before him. He looked at the graceful shining head, the rich lace veil, the (|uiet elegance of attire, even to the small satin slipper that stole from beneath her silken robe — all united with a refine- ment and an air of jealous seclusion, that somehow removed him to an immeasurable distance. The anthem ceased, the last notes of the organ died away, and the lady rose. Half an hour before, Jack would have gladly stepped forward to have challenged even a passing glance from the beautiful eyes of the stranger ; now a timidity and distrust new to the man took possession of him. He even drew back closer in the shadow as she stepped toward the pillar, which supported on its face a font of holy water. She had already slii)ped off her glove, and now she leaned forward — so near he could almost feel her warm breath — and dipped her long, slim fingers into the water. As she crossed herself with the licjuid symbol Jack gave a slight start. One or two drops of holy water thrown from her little fingers had fallen on his face. CHAPTER XX VH VICTOR MAKES A DISCOVERY. Happily for Mr. Hamlin, the young girl noticed neither the effect of her unconscious baptismal act, nor its object, but VICTOR MARKS A DISCOVKRV, ll>a moved away slowly to the door. As she diii so, Jack stepped from the shadow of the column and followed her witli eyes of respectful awe and yearning. She had barely reac hed the porch, when she suddenly and swiftly turned and walked hur- riedly back, almost brushing against Mr. Hamlin. Her beauti- ful eyes were startled and embarras.sed, her scarlet lips |»arted and i)aling rapidly, her whole figure and manner agitated and discomposed. Without noticing him she turned toward the column, and under the prete.xt of using the holy water took hold of the font and leaned against it, as if tor support, with her face averted from the light. Jack ( ould see her hands tighten nervously on the stone, and fancied that her whole figure trembled as she stood there. He hesitated for a moment and then moved t(» her side ; not audaciously and confident, as was his wont with women, but with a i)oyish color in his face, and a timid, half embarrassed manner. "Can I do anything for you, Miss?" he said falteringly. " You don't seem to be well. I mean, you look tired. Sha'n't I bring you a chair ? It's the heat of this blasted hole — I mean it's so warm here. Sha'n't I go for a glass af water, a carriage?" Here she suddenly lifted her eyes to his, and his voice and l)resence of mind utterly abandoned him. " It is nothing," she said, with a dignified calm, a.s sudden and as alarming to Jack as her previous agitation — " nothing," she added, fixing her clear eyes on his, with a look so frank, so ()l)en, and withal, as it seemed to Jack, so cold and indifferent, that his own usually bold glance fell beneath it, " nothing but the heat ^nd closeness ; I am better now." " Shall I — " began Jack awkwardly. " I want nothing, thank you." Seeming to think that her conduct reijuired some explanation, she added hastily : " There was a crowd at the door as I was going out, and in the press I felt giddy. I thought some one — some man — pushed me rudely. I dare say I was mistaken. She glanced at the porch against which a man was still jcanint • < • %\.A. y •J • 'o* 100 GAHklKI, CONROV. » • t • i < ■• • • »■"* ' -- '^ 'J'lie suggestion of her look and speech- if it ucrc a sugges tion — was caught instantly by Jack. Without waiting for her to finish the sentence, he strode to the door. To his wrathful sur|)rise the lounger was Victor. Mr. Hamlin did not stop for exj)lanatory speech. With a single expressive word, ard a single dexterous movement of his arm and foot, he tumhledthc astonished Victor down the steps at one side, and then turned toward his late companion. Hut she had been e(|ually promj)t. With a celerity fjuite inr onsistent with her previous faintness. she seized the moment that Vi( tor disappeared to dart by him and gain her carriage, which stood in wailing at the |)()rch. Hut as it swiftly rode away, Mr. Hamlin (aught one grateful glance from those wonderful eyes, one smile from those i)erfe( t lij)s. and was happy. What matters that he had an exi)lanation l)0ssibly a (juarrel on his hands? Ah me ! I fear this added zest to the rascal's satisfaction. A hand was laid on his shoulder. He turned and saw the face of the furious Victor, with every tooth at a white heat, and panting with passion. Mr. Hamlin smiled pleasantly. ** Why, I want to know ! " he ejaculated, with an affectation of rustic simplicity — " if it ain't you, Johnny. Why, darn my skin ! And this is your house ? You and St. Anthony in partne;ship, eh? Well, that gets me! And here I tumbled you off your own stoop, didn't I ? I might have known it was you by the way you stood there. Mightn't T, Johnny?" " My name is not ]ohr\r\\~Cara>Nba ! " gasped Victor, almost beside him.self with impatient fury. "Oh, it's that, is it?" Any relation to the Caramhas of Dutch Flat ? It ain't a pretty name. I like Johnny better. And I wouldn't make a row here now. Not to-day, Johnny ; it's Sunday. I'd go home. I'd go quietly home, and I'd beat some woman or child to keep myself in training. But I'd go home first. I wouldn't draw that knife, neither, for it might cut your fingers, and frighten the folks around town. I'd go home (juietly, like a good nice little man. And in the morning I'd come round to the hotel on the next scjuare, and I'd ask for Mr. Hamlin, Mr. jack Hamlin, Room No. 29 ; and I'd go right up to his room, and I'd have such a time with him — such a high old time j I'd'just make that hotel swini with ])1ood," VICIOR MAKES A DISCOVF.RY. 197 I • Two or three of the nionte-phiyers had gathered around \'i( tor, and seenutl inclined to take the part ot their <-oiintry man. Vi( tor was not slow to ini[)rove this moment ol adhesion and support. '* Is it dogs that we are, my compatriots?" he said to them bitterly — " and he — this one -a man infamous !" Mr, Hamlin, who had a (juick ear for abusive and inter ja( ulatory Sj^anish, overheard him. There was a swift choruM of" CiiramLi !^' from the^llies, albeit wholesomely restrained by something in Mr. Hamlin's eye which was visible, and probably a susjji( ion of something in Mr. Hamlin's pocket which was not visible. Hut the remaining portion of Mr. Hamlin was ironically gra( ious. "Friends of yours, 1 suppose?" he inquired affably. " ' Carambas ' all of them, too ! I^erhaps they'll call with you ? Maybe they haven't time and aie in a hurry now ? If my room isn't large enough, and they can't wait, there's a handy lot o' ground beyond on the next ^L\ua.Yc- P/aza del Toros^ eh? What did you say ? I'm a little deaf in this ear." Under the pretense of hearing more distinctly. Jade Hamlin a|)proached the nearest man, who, 1 grieve to say, instantly, and somewhat undignifiedly, retreated. Mr. Hamlin laughed. Hut already a crowd of loungers had gathered, and he felt it was time to end this badinage, grateful as it was to his sense of humor. So he lifted his hat gravely to Victor and his friends, rei)laced it perhaps aggressively tilted a trifle over his straight nose, and lounged slowly back to his hotel, leaving his late ad- versaries in secure but unsatisfactory and dishonorable pos- session of the field. Once in his own quarters, he roused the sleeping Pete, and insisted upon opening a religious discussion, in which, to Pete's great horror, he warmly espoused the ('atholic Church, averring, with several strong expletives, that it was the only religion fit for a white man, and ending some- what irrelevantly by inquiring into the condition of the piitolt. Meanwhile Victor had also taken leave of his friends. " He has fled — this most infamous!" he said; "he dared not remain and face us ! Thou didst observe his fear, Tiburcio ^ It was thy great heart that did it !" ■1 19ft GAURIFI- CON ROY. Iltpi >mp .ink *' Kathcr lie rcro^jnizcfl thcc, my Vi( tor, and his lu;nt \vn«; iIkiI of the coyote." " It was the Mexican nation, ever resjumsive to the ai)i)eal of manhood and hherty, that made his hver as hlant hed as that of the chicken," returned the gentleman who had retreated from lack. •' Let us then celebrate this triumph with a little glass." And Victor, who was anxious to get away from his friends, and saw in the prospective (Jxt/an/if/t/r a chance for escape, generously led the way to the first wifle-shop. It chanced to be the princij)al one of the town. It had the generic (juality that is, was dirty, dingy, ill-smelling, and yellow with cigarette smoke. Its walls were adorned by various prints -one or two i"'rench in origin, excellent in art, and de lective in moral sentiment, and several of Si)anish origin, infiimous in art, and admirable in religious feeling. It had a portrait of Santa Anna, and another of the latest successful revolutionary general. It had an allegorical picture representing the (ienius of Liberty descending with all the celestial machinery upon the Mexican Confederacy. Moved apparently by the same taste for poetry and personification, the proi)rietor had added to his artistic collection a highly colored American handbill representing the Angel of Healing presenting a stricken family with a bottle of somebody's Panacea. At the further extremity of the low room a dozen players sat at a green baize table ab- sorbed in monte. Beyond them, leaning against the wall, a harp-player twanged the strings of his instrument, in a lugubrious air, with that singular stickiness of touch and reluctancy of finger peculiar to itinerant performers on that instrument. The card-players were profoundly indifferent to both music and performer. The face of one of the ])layers attracted Victor's attention. It was that of the odd English translator-^the irascible stranger upon whom he had intruded that night of his memorable visit to Don Josd Victor had no difficulty in recognizing him, although his slovenly and negligent working-dress had been changed to his holiday antique black suit. He did not lift his eyes from the game until he had lost the few silver coins placed in a pile before him, when he rose grimly, and, nodding brusquely to the other players, without speaking left the room. no toil COM he for^ GUI of tl»e| Ca VI( lOk \I\KI.^ A IMsiOVI kV. 190 "He has lost live half dollars- his regular limit- no more, no less." said N'ittorto his friend, "lie will not play again to night! '' " You know of him ?" asked Vinientc in admiration of his c<)nii)anion's superior knowledge. "Si!" said Victor. " He is a jaikal, a dog of the Americanos," he added, vaguely intending to revenge himself on the stranger's former bruscjueness by this (lepre( iation. " He affe{ ts to know our history - our language. Is it a (juestion of the line meaning of a word? — the shade of a technical exj>ression?— it is him they ask, not us! It is thus they treat us, these heretics! Caramha /" " Caramba /" echoed Vincente, with a vague patriotism sujierinduced by a;^uardiente. iiut Victor had calculated to unloose Vincente's tongue for his private service. " It is the world, my friend," he said sententiously. " These Americanos — come they here often ? " " You know the great American advocate — our friend — Don Arturo Poinsett?" *• Yes," said Victor impatiently. ** Comes he?" "Christ! does he not!" laughed Vincente. "Always. Ever. Eternally. He has a client— a widow, young, hand- some, rich, eh ? — one of his own race." "Ah! you are wise, Vincente !" Vincente laughed a weak spirituous laugh. "Ah, (lod! it is a transparent fact. Truly — of a verity. Relieve me !" " And this fair client — who is she ?" " Donna Maria Sepulvida !" .said Vincente in a drunken whisjjcr. " How is this ? You said she was of his own race." " Truly, I did. She is Americana. Hut it is years ago. She was very young. When the Americans first came, she was of the first. She taught the child of the widower Don Jose Sepul- vida, herself almost a child, you understand ? It was the old story. She was pretty, and poor, and young ; the Don grizzled, and old, and rich. It was fire and tow. ]\h ? Ha! Ha! The Don meant to be kind, you understand, and made a rich wife of the little Americana. He was kinder than he meant. %. ^^Pi' • *.' It i ' .« * . A ^'' .-'v,. -t ' ■ • Ml • . . i'l '■.. . ,! ■'. .1' i ''.^^i ,ii?ii. I" 200 GAimiEL CONROY. Caramba ! made a richer widow of th( and ill two years J )oniKi. If Vincente had not been quite thrown by his potations, he would have seen an undue eagerness in Victor's mouth and •eyes. " And she is pretty — tall and slender like the Americans, eh ? — large eyes, a sweet mouth ?" "An angel. Ravishing !" * And Don Arturo from legal adviser turns a lover !" *' It is said," responded Vincente with drunken cunning and ! Hi^ar me, Victor ; it was an old flame ; an old quarrel made uj). Thou and I have heard the romance before. Two lovers not rich, eh ? (juod ! Separation ; despair. The Senorita marries the rich n)an, eh?" Victor was too completely carried away by the suggestion ol his friend's speech, to conceal his satisfaction. Here was the secret at last. Here was not only a clew, but absolutely the missing Grace Conroy herself. In this young Ameriiana — this — widow — this client of her former lover, Philip Ashley, he held the secret of three lives. In his joy he slapped Vincente on the back and swore roundly that he was the wisest of men. " 1 should have seen her- — the heroine of tfiis romance — my friend. Possibly, she was at mass?" " Possibly not. She is Catholic, but Don Arturo is not. She does not often attend when he is here." " As to-day ?" "As to-day." "You are wrong, friend Vincente," said Victor, a little im- patiently. " 1 was there; I saw her." Vincente shrugged his shoulders and shook his head with drunken gravity. " It is impossible, Senor Victor, believe me." " I tell you, I saw her," said Victor excitedly. " Borrachon ! She was there ! By the pillar. As she went out she partook ]'\ ViCTOk MARLS A DISCOVEkV. 26i of (7_i^//a Nndita. I saw her ; large eyes, an oval face, a black dress and mantle." ViiK ente, who, happily for Victor, had not heard the epithet ot his friend, shook his head and laughed a conceited drunken laugh. '•Tell me not this, friend Victor. It was not her thou didst see. Believe me, I am wise. It was the Donna Dolores who jiartook of ed over his japanned leather bools, lunipleted his rctiKirkable ensctnblc. It was a figure well known on Mont- gomery street after three o'clock — seldom connected with the fiouzy visitor of the Pacific street den, and totally unrecogniz- able on the plains of San Antcnio. It was evident, however, that this tigure, eccentric as it was, was expected at the hacienda, and recognized as having an importance beyond its anticpie social distinction. For when Mr. Perkins drew U]) in the court yard, the grave iiiajor-domo at once ushered him into the formal, low studded drawing-room already described in these pages, and in another instant the Donna Dolores Salvatierra stood before him. With a refined woman'.s delicacy of perception. Donna Dolores instantly detected under this bi/arre exterior something that atoned for it, which she indi( ated by the depth of the half- formal courtesy she made it. Mr. Perkins met the salutation with a bow equally formal and respectful. He was evidently agreeably surprised at his reception and impressed with her manner. But, like most men of ill-assured social position, he was a trifle sus{)icious, and on the defensive. With a graceful gesture of her fan the Donna pointed to a chair, but her guest ♦■cmained standing. " / am a stranger to you, Senor, but you are none to mc," she said, with a gracious smile. " Before I ventured upon the boldness of seeking this interview, your intelligence, your experience, your honorable report was already made known to niL- by your friends. Let me call myself one of these^even before I break the business for which I have summoned you." The absurd figure bowed again, l)ut, even through the l)itiable chalk and cosmetics of its comi)lexion, an embarrassed color showed itself. Donna Dolores noticed it, but delicately turned toward an old-fashioned secretary and opened it, to give her visitor time to recover himself. She drew from a little drawer a folded, legal-looking document, and then, placing two chairs beside the secretary, seated herself in one. Thus ])ractically reminded of his duty, Mr. Perkins could no longer decline the proffered seat. " 1 suppose," said Donna Dolores, " that my business, ■I ./.•;■■ i' i . *. V..; _ . f ' k ( • . ' • • ' - ■ $ _ :1:-> 204 GAniUFT. CONROS' ;iltlu)iigh familiar to yoii L;t'norally--for you arc liabitnnIK consulted on just such »,.icstions may seem strange ti) \()ii. when you frankly learn my motives. Here is a grant ])urportii>4 to have been made to my- father— the late l)on Jose Salvatierra. Examine* it carefully and answer me a singk' ([uestion to the best of your judgment." She hesitated, and then added : " Let me say, before you answer yes or no, that to me there are no ])ecuniary interests involved — nothing that should make you hesitate to e.\i)ress an o|)inion which you might be called upon legally to prove. T/uit you will never be recpiired to give. Your answer will be acce])ted by me in confidence ; will not, as far as the world is concerned, alter the money value of this document ; will leave you free hereafter to exjircss a different o])inion, or even to reverse your judgment l)ul)iicly if the occasion recjuires it. You seem astounded, Senor Perkins. ^^wi I am a rich woman. 1 have no need to ask your judgment to increase my wealth." " Your (juestion is—" said Mr. Perkins, sjjeaking for the first time without embarrassment. " Is that document a forgery ? " He took it out of her hand, opened ii with a kind of professional carelessness, barely glanced at the signature and seals, and returned it. "The signatures are genuine," he said, with Inisiness-likc brevity ; then he added, as if in explanation of that brevity, " 1 have seen it before." Donna Dolores mo\ed her chair with the least show of uneasiness. The movement attracted Mr. Perkins's attention. It was son»ething novel. Here was a woman who appeared actually annoyed that her claim to a valuable property was valid. He fixed his eyes upon her curiously. " 'I'hen you think it is a genuine grant ? " she said with a slight sigh. "As genuine as any that receives a i)atent at Washington."" he replied i)romptly. " Ah ! " said Donna Dolores simply. The feminine inter- jection ai)peared to put :l construction upon Senor Perkins's reply that both annoyed and challenged him. He assumed the defensive. AN tXl'KKT 205 '* Have you any reason to doubt the genuineness of this |);uticular document ? " "Yes. It was only recently discovered among Dnu Jose's pajicr's and there is another in existence." Sefior Perkins again rea< lied out his hand, took the i)a|)er, c\.ur;ned it attentively, iiehl it -to the hght and then laid it down. " It is all right," he said. " Where is the other ? ' " I have it not," said Donna Dolores. Sefior Perkins shrugged his shoulders resi)ectrully as to Donna J )olores hut scornfully of an unbusiness like sex. " How do you expect me to institute a com|)arison ! " " There is no comparison ne( essary if that document is genuine," said the Donna (juickly. Senor Perkins was embarrassed for a moment. *' 1 mean there might be some mistake. Under what cir( umstances is it held — who holds it ? To whom was it given?" " i'hat is part of my story. It was given five years ago to a Dr. Devarges — 1 beg your pardon, did you speak ? " Senor Perkins had not spoken, but was staring with grim intensity at Donna Dolores. " V'ou — said — Dr. Devarges," he repeated slowly. " Yes. Did you know him ? " It was Donna Dolores turn to be embarrassed. She bit her lip and slightly contracted her eyebrows. For a moment they both stood on the defensive. '' I have heard the name before," Mr. Perkins said at last, with a forced laugh. " Yes, it is the name of a distinguished sava/if,'' said Donr- Dolores, composedly. "Well, //<■ is dead. But he gave thi^ grant to a young girl named — named "- -she paused as if to recall the name—" named (Irace Conroy." She stopped and raised her eyes quickly to her comi)anion, but his face was unmoved, and his momentary ex( itement seemed to have passed. lie nodded his head for her to proceed. "Named Clrac e Conroy," repeated Donna Dolores, more rapidly, and with freer breath, " After the lapse of five years '^.•'l *< K r -1 . -if. », I • , 111;, llj.i; ';:♦' 206 GA15KIKF, CONKOV. a woman — an inijiostor appears to rlaim the grant under the name of (irace (lonroy. lUit perhaps finding difficulty in carrying out her infamous scheme, l)y some wicked, wicked art. she gains the affe( tions of the brother of this Grace, and marries him as the next surviving heir." And Donna Dolores paused, a little out of breath" with a glow under her burnished cheek and a slight metallic (juality in her voice. It was perhaps no more than the natural indignation of a (|ui< klv sympathizing nature, but Mr. IVrkins did not seem to notice it. In fact within the last few seconds his whole manner had become absent and preoccupied ; the stare which he had fixed a moment before on Donna Dolores was now turned to the wall, and his old face, under its juvenile mask, looked still older. " Certainly, certainly," he said at last, recalling himself with an effort. " Hut all this only goes to prove that the grant may be as fraudulent as the owner. 'I'hen, you have nothing reallv to maiN-e you suspicious of your own claim but the fact of its recent discovery? Well, that I don't think need trouble you. Remember your grant was given when lands were not valuable, and your late father might liave overlooked it as unimportant." He rose with a slight suggestion in his manner that the interview had closed. He ap|)eared anxious to withdraw, and not entirely free from the same painful pre-absorption that he had lately show^ With a slight shade of disappointment in iior face, Donna I^olores also rose. In another moment he would have been gone, and the lives of these two people, thus brought into natural yet mysterious contact, have flowed on unchanged in each monotonous current. But as he reached the door he turned to ask a trivial question. On that question trembled the future of both. *'This real (irace Conroy, then, I suppose, has disappeared. And this — Doctor — -Devarges" — he hesitated at the name as something e(iually fictitious — "you say is dead. How then did tiiis impostor gain the knowledge necessary to .set up the claim? Who is.s7/^r' " Oh, she is — that is — she married Gabriel Conroy under the name of the widow of Dr. Devarges. Pardon me ! I did not AN KXI'KRT 207 Vuii ' : . h'j.ir what you said. Holy virgin ! What is the matter? are ill ! Let me call Sanchez ! Sit here ! " He dropped into a chair, but only for an instant. As she lurncd to call assistance he rose and caught her by the arm. " 1 am better," he said. " It is nothing — I am often taken in this way. Don't look at me. Don't call anybody except to i^^et me a glass of water —there ! that will do." He took the glass she brought him, and instead of drinking it threw back his head and ])oured it slowly over his forehead and fa( e as he leaned backward in the chair. Then he drew out a large silk handkerchief and wiped his face and hair until tlioy were dry. Then he sat up and faced her. The chalk and p.iint were off his face, his high stO( k had become unbuckled, he li;ul unbuttoned his coat and it hung loosely over his gaunt figure ; his hair, although still dripping, seemed to have l)cc()me suddenl}' bristling and bushy over his red face. l>ut he was perfectly self-possessed, and his voice had completely lost its j)revious embarrassment. "Rush of blood to the head," he said, quielly ; "felt it coming on all the morning. Gone now. Nothing like cold water and sitting posture. Hope I didn't spoil your carpet. And now to come back to your business.' He drew up his I hair, without the least truce of his former diffidence, beside i)()nna Dolores. " Let's take another look at your grant." He ;o()k it up, drew a small magnifying glass from his pocket and examined the signature. " Yes, yes ! signature all right. Seal of the Custom House. Paper all regular." He rustled it in his fingers. " You're all right — the swindle i.s with AFadame I )evarges. There's the forgery — there's this si)urious grant." " I think not," said Donna Dolores, ([uietly. "Why?" "Suj)pose the grant is exactly like this in everything, paper, signature, seal and all." "That proves nothing," said Mr. Perkins qui( kly. " T,()()k vou. When this grant was drawn — in the early days — there were numbers of these grants lying in the Cust(jm House like waste paper, drawn and signed by the (iovernor, in blank, only wanting filling in by a clerk to make them a valid document. She ! — this impostor — this Madau)e Devarges, lias had access .ft %*' A . H u ' '^ • f ♦ »• t ' ■' * ■ k *' ., :.:.% . ■». 208 l;ai{RIKi. conk(jv. to these blanks, as many have since the American Conquest, and that grant is the result. Hut she is not wise, no ! I know the handwriting of the several copyists and clerks — I was ont myself. Put me on the stand Donna Dolores — put me on the stand and I'll confront her as I have the others." "You forget," said Donna Dolores coldly, "that I have no desire to k\:,Mlly test this document. And if Sj)anish grants an .so easily made, why might not this one of mine be a fabrication? You say you know the handwriting of the (0])yists — look at this." Mr. Perkins seized the grant imi)atiently, and ran his eye quickly over the interlineations between the printed portions. " Strange ! " he muttered. " This is not my own nor Sanchez; nor Ruiz; it is a new hand. Ah! what have we here — a correction in the date — in still another hand. And this- surely I have seen something like it in the office. But where ? " he stopped, ran his fingers through his hair, but after an effort at recollection abandoned the attempt. " But why," he said abruptly, " why should this be forged ? " "Supp. -se that the other were genuine, and suppose that this woman got j)ossesion of it in .some wicked way. Su])pose that some one, knowing of this, endeavored by this clever forgery to put difficulties in her way without exposing her." " But who would do that ? " " Perhaps the brother — her husband ! Perhaps some one," continued Donna Dolores embarrassedly, with the color strug- gling through her copper cheek, " some — one — who — did — not — believe that the real Grace Conroy was dead or missing !" " Suppose the devil ! — 1 beg your pardon. But people don't forge documents in the interests of humanity and justice. And why should it be given to you ?'* " I am known to be a rich woman," said Donna Dolores. " I believe," she added, dropping her eyes with a certain proud diffidence that troubled even the preoccupied man before her, " I — believe — that is I am told — that I have a reputation for being liberal, and — and just !" Mr. Perkins looked at her for a moment with undisguised admiration. " But suppose," he said with a bitterness that seemed to grow out of that very contemp'ation, " suppose this AN KXI'KKI, 2on woman, tnis adventuress ! this impostor I were a creature that made any such theory impossible. Su|)pose she were one who (ould poison the very Hfe and soul of any man — to say nothing of the man who was legally bound to her ; suppose she were a (levil who « ould deceive tlie mind and heart, who ( ould makt the very man she was betraying most i)clieve her |j;uiltless and sinned against ; suppose she were ( apable of not even the weakness of i)assion ; but that all .her acts were shiewd. selfish. pre-caU ulated even to a smile or a tea" -do you think such a woman — whom, thank (iod ! such as jv// ( annot even imagine do you supi)ose such a woman would not have guarded against even this ! No ! no !" *' Unless," said Donna Dolores, leaning against the secretary with the glow gone from her dark face and a strange expression trembling over her mouth, " unless it were the revenge of some rival." Her companion started. " Good ! It is so," he muttered to himself. " / would have done it. 1 could have done it ! You are right. Donna Dolores." He walked to the window and then came hurriedly back, buttoning his coat as he did sf) and rebuckling his stock. "Some one is coming ! Leave thi.< matter with me. I will satisfy you and myself concerning this affair. Will you trust this pa{)er with me?" Donna Dolores without a word placed it in his hand. '' Thank you," he said with a slight return of his former embarrassment that seemed to belong to his ridiculous stock and his buttoned cc^*^ rather than any physical or moral quality. " Don't believe e en- tirely disinterested either," he added with a strange smile. ^' Ad/os." She would have asked another ciuestion, but at that instant the clatter of hoofs and the sound of voices arose from the court-yard, and with a hurried bow he was gone. I'he door opened again almost instantly to the bright, laughing face and coquetting figure of Mrs. Sepulvida. " VV^ell !" said that little lady, as soon as she recovered her breath. " For a religiously inclined young person and a notori- ous recluse, I must say you certainly have more ma.scuhne com pany than falls to the lot of the worldly. Here I ran across a couple of fellows hanging around the cds^ as I drove up, and come in only to find you closeted with an old exquisite. Who .• • ^•■•. 4 k . ••T-; • - Ill 210 r.AHklKr, CONROY. 1 • 4 • • * • .• * ' + n: i was i; another lawyer, clear? I declare, it's too bad. /have only one ! " "And that one is enouf,'h, eh?" smiled Donna Dolores somewhat i^ravely, as she phiyrully tapped Mrs. Sej)ulvida's fair cheek with her fan. "Oyes!" she Mushed, a little coquettishly "of course! And here I rode over, |)ost haste, to tell you the news. Hut fir.st, tell me who is that wi( ked, dashing looking fellow outside the court-yard ? It < an't he the lawyer's c lerk." " I don't, know who you mean; but it is, I suppose," said Donna Dolores, a little wearily. "But tell me the news. 1 am nil attention." l)Ut Mrs. Sepulvida ran to the deep embrasured window and peeped out. '* It isn't the lawyer, for he is driving away in \\\> i)uggy, as if he were hurrying to get out of the fog, and my gentleman still remains. Dolores !" said Mrs. Sepulvida, sud- denly fari«'l. .illhoii;;!) llu- .i( lii;il biisiiuss ancil()rrncd Ity a sharp, siiap|>y youiiLj Icllow of about half (lahrid's si/c, supplied by the ("pinpany. This was in a( < ordancc with the wislus of dabricl, who (ould not bear idleness; and the Company, althoujj;h ihstrustiuj^ his adminisirati\r abibty. wisely rero^ni/ed his j^reat |)ower over the worknun lhro»i}.',li the poi)ul;'rily of his easy deino( rati< manners, and his disposition .'dways to lend his valuable physical assistam e in rase of emergent y. (labriel had become a great favorite with the men ever since they found that |)rosperity had not altered his simple nature. It was jtleasant to tluni to be able to point out to a stranger this plain, unostentatious, powerfid giant, working like themselves and with themselves, with the added information that he owned half the mine, and was worth seventeen millions ! .Always ashy and rather lonely man, his wealth seemed to have driven him, by its very ()i)pressiveness, to the society of his humble fellows tor relief. A certain deprecatoriness of manner whenever his ri( lies were alluded to strengthened the belief of some in that theory, that he was merely the < reature of Dumpiiy's specula- tion. Although (iabriel was always assigned a small and insignifi- ( ant part in the i)resent ])rosperity of One Horse Mat, it was somewhat characteristic of the peculiar wrong headedness ol that community, that no one ever sus|)e( ted his wife of any (omplicity in it. It had been long since settled that her supe- riority to her husband was chielly the feminine < harm of social grace and physical attraction. 'I'hat, warmed by the sunshine of affluence, this butterfly would wantonly flit from flower to llower, and eventually ijuit her husband and One Horse (Uilch for some more genial clime, was never doubted. " She'll make them millions fly, if she he/, to fly with it," was the tenor ot local criticism. A pity, not unmi.xed with contempt, was felt for (iabriel's apparent indifference to this prophetic outlook; his absolute insensibility to his wife's ambiguous rei)Utation was looked upon as the hopelessness of a thoroughly deceived man. Kven Mrs. Markle, who.se attempts to mollify Oily had been received coldly by that young wphc(y Mrs. (.'onroy d'd not fly nor f>h(>\v any inclination to leave her husband. A new house- NY.' > i>uilt, with that rapidity of jmjduction which belonged to the climate, among the ])ines of Conroy's hill, and, on the hottest summer day still exuded the fresh saj) of its green timbers and exhaled a woodland spicery. Mere the good taste of Mrs. Conroy flowered in chintz, and vas always fresh and feminine in white muslin curtains and ])retty carj)ets, and hither the fratenal love of (iabriel brought a grand piano for the use of Oily, and a teacher. Hither also came the best citizens of the (ountry — even the notabilities of the State, feeling that Mr. Dumphy had, to a certain extent, made One Horse Gulch resi)e( table, soon found out also that Mrs. (!oj»roy was attrac tive ; the Hon. Dlank had dined there on the occasion of his last visit to his constituents of the Gulch ; the Hon. Judge Beeswinger had told in her parlor several of his most effective stories. Col. Starbottle's manly breast had dilated over her dish-covers, and he had carried away with him not only a vivid appreciation of her charms, capable of future eloquent expres- sion, but a very vivid idea of his own fascinations, equally in- cr.pable of concealment. Gabriel himself rarely occupied the house ext ept for the exigencies of food and nightly shelter. If decoyed there at other times by specious invitation of Oily, he compromised by sitting on the back i)orch in his shirt sleeves, alleging as a reason his fear of the contaminating influence of his short black pipe. " Don't ye mind v.'/', July," he would say, when his sjwu^e with anxious face and de{)recatory manner, would waive her native fastidiousness and aver that " she liked it." " Don't ye mind me, I admire to sit out yer. I'm a heap more comforta ble outer doors, and alius waz. I reckon the smell might get into them curtings and then — and then — " added Gabriel, quietly ignoring the look of pleased expostulation with which Mr.s. Conroy recognized this fancied recognition of her tastes — " and then— 6^//)''.v friends and thet teacher, not being round like you and me allez and used to it, they mightn't like it. And I've heerd that the smell of nigger-head terbacker do git inter IN WHICH t'.AI'.klKl- RKC(K;:^IZKS THk I'kOrUlKl.'ES. 215 the strings of n ))ianner and kinder stops the music. A pianner's n mighty cur'iis thing. I've lieerd say they're as dihkit and aihn' as a child, l.ook in 'em and see them little strings a tuistin' and crossin' each (jther, like the reins of .a six nude icam, and it ain't no wonder they gets mixed up often." It was not Gabriel's way to notice his wife's manner very closely, but if he had at that moment, he might have fancied that there were other ins*truments whose fine chov's were as subject to irritation and discordant disturi)ance. Perhaps only vaguely conscious of some womanish sullenness on his wife's part, Gabriel would at su( h times disengage himseli as being the possible disorganizing element and lounge away. His fav- orite place of resort was his former cabin, now tenantless and in rapid decay, but which he had refused to disjjose of, even after the erection of his two later dwellings rendered it an un- necessary and unsightly encumbrance of his lands. He loved to linger by the deserted hearth and smoke his pipe in solitude, not from any sentiment, conscious or unconscious, but from a force of habit, that was in this lonely man, almost as pathetic. He may liave become aware at this time that a certain growing dis|)arity of sentiment and taste, which he had before noticed with a vague ])ain and wonder, rendered his gradual separa- tion from Oily a necessity of her well-doing. He had, indeed, revealed this to her on several occasions with that frankness which was natural to him. He had apologized with marked ])oliteness to her music-teacher, who had once invited him to observe Olly's j)roficiency, by saying, in general terms, that he "took no stock in chunes. I reckon it's about ez easy, Miss, if ye don't ring me in. Thet chile's got to get on without thinkin* o' me or my 'pinion, allowin' it was wuth ihinkin' on." Once meeting Oily walking with some older and more fashiona- ble school friends whom she had invited from Sat ramento, he had delicately avoided them with a sudden and undue con- sciousness of his great bulk and his slow-moving intellect, ])ain fully sensitive to what seemed to him to be the preternatural quickness of the young people, and turned into a by-path. On the other hand it is possible that, with the novelty of her new situation and the increased importance that wealth brought to OUv, she ha,d become more and more oblivious of her '•': ■.],.. 1 .<■»*. i , 216 riAHUlFJ, fONROV. t < .« ■• > * • • ^. ^^ . 1 brother's feelings, and peilinps less persistent in lier endeavor:,' to draw hini toward lier. She knew that he had attained an equal importance among his fellows from this very wealth, and also a certain evident, paljjable, sni)erficial res])ect which satis fied her. With her restless ambition, and the new life that was (Opening before her, his slower, old-fashioned metiiods, his absolute rusticity that day by day ap])eare(l more strongly in contrast to his surroundings began' to irritate where it had formerly only touched her sensibilities. From this irritation she at last escaped by the unfailing processes of youth and the fascination of newer imj)ressions. And so, day by day and hour by hour, they drifted slowly ai)art, until one day Mrs. dmroy was pleasantly startled by an announcement from (iabriel that he had completed arrangements to send Oily to boarding-school in Sacramento. It was understood, also, that this was only a necessary ])reliminary to the departure of her- self and husband for a long promised tour of Kuroj)e. As it was imi)OSsil)le for one of Ciabriel's simple nature to kee]) his ])lans entirely secret. Oily was ])erfectly aware of his intention, and prej^ared for the formal announcement, which she knew would come in Gabriel's (}uaint, serious way. In the critical attitude which the child had taken toward him, she was nu)re or less irritated, as an older i)erson might have been, with the air of grave cautiousness with which (iabriel usually explained that conduct and manner which were perfectly appar- ent and open from the beginning. It was during a long walk in which the ])air had strayed among the evergreen woods, when they came upon the little dismantled cabin. Here (kibriel stopped. Oily glanced around the s])ot, and shrugged her shoulders. Oabriel, more mindful of Olly's manner than he had ever been of any other of her sex, instantly under- stood it. " It ain't a purty place, Oily," he began, rubbing his hands ; " but we've had high ole times yer — you and rae. Don't ye mind the nights I used to kem up from the gulch and pitch in to mendin' your gownds, (>lly, and you asleep? Don't ye mind that-ar dress I cc/ppp> t-^^tened ?'' and Gabriel laughed loudly, and yet a little doubttully. Oily laughed too, but not (iuite so heartily as her brother, IN WFIICH flAliKIKT. RKCOGNIZF.S THK PROPRIKIIKS. 217 and cnst licr eyes down upon her own figure, (iabriel followed the direction of her glance. It was not perhaps easy to re- create in the figure before him the outfc little waif who such a short time— such a long time ago- had sat at his feet in that very cabin. It was not alone that Oily was better dressed, and her hair more tastefully arranged, but she seemed in some way to have become more refined and fastidious - a fastidiousness that was plainly an outgrowth of something that she possessed but he did not. As lie looked at her, another vague ht)pe that he had fostered — a fond belief that as she grew taller she would come to look like (irace, and so revive the missing sister in his memory— this seemed to fade away before him. Vet it was characteristic of the unselfishness of his nature that he (lid not attribute this disapi)()iiUment to her alone, but rather to some latent principle in human nature whereof he had been ignorant. Wi had even gone so far as to invite criticism on a h\pothetical case from the sagacious Johnson. "It's the difference atween human natur' and brute natur'," that i)hilosopher had answered pronii)tly. " A purp's the same purj) allez, even arter it's a grown dorg, but a child ain't- it's the difference atween reason and instink.' But Oily, to whom this scene recalled another circumstance, did not participate in (labriel's particular reminiscence. "I)(;n'tyou remember, (iabe,"' she said quickly, " the first night that sister July came here and stood right in that very door! r>ord ! how fiabergasted we was to be sure ! And il anybody told me, Gabe, that :she was going to marry iw- I'd, rd a knocked e'm down," she blurted out, after hesitating for a suitable climax. Ciabriel, who in his turn did not seem to be particularly touched with Olly's form of reminiscence, r(Hc instantly above all sentiment in a consideration of the proprieties. "Ye shouldn't talk o' knockin' jjeople down, Oily — it ain't decent for a young gal," he said ([uickly. " Not that /mind it," he added, with his usual apology, " but allowin' that some of them purty little friends o' yours or teacher now should hear ye I Sit down for a spell, Oily. I've suthin to tell ye." He took her hand in his. and made her sit beside him on the rude stone that served as the old door-step of the cabin. 1'. t . 218 GAHKIKL CON ROY. < • „ , . » it^ 'Hi " Maybe you might remember," he went on, lightly lifting her hand in his, and striking it gently across his knee to beget an easy, confidential manner — " maybe ye might remember that I allers allowed to do two things ef ever 1 might make a strike -one was to give you a good schoolin', the other was to find Cirace, if so be as she was above the yearth. There was many ways o' findin out —many ways o' settin at it, but they warn't my jcays. 1 alius allowed that ef thet child was in harkenin' distance o' the reach o' my call, she'd hear me. I mout have took other men to help me — ^men ez was sharj) in them things, men ez was in that trade — but I didn't. And why?" Oily intimated by an impatient shake of her head that she didn't know. " Because she was that shy and skary with strangers. Ye disremember how shy she was, Oily, in them days, for ye was too young to notice. And then not bein' shy yourself, but sorter peart, free, and promisskiss, ready and able to keep up your end of a conversation with anybody, and alius ez chipi)er as a jay-bird — why ye don't kinder allow that fur ( lra( y as I do. And thar was reasons why that purty chile should he shy- reasons ye don't understand now. Oily, but reasons pow'ful and strong to sich a chile as thet." " Ye mean, Gabe," said the shamelessly direct Oily, " that slie was bashful, hevin' ran away with her bo." That perplexity which wiser students of human nature than Gabriel have experienced at the swift percei)tion of childhood in regard to certain things, left him sjjeechless. He could only stare ho])elessly at the little figure before him. " Well, wot did j'<^// do, Gabe? do on !" said Oily impati- ently. Gabriel drew a long breath. "Thar bein' certing reasons why Gracy should be that shy - reasons concarning i)r()pperty o' her deceased parienls," boldly invented Gabriel with a k)fty ignoring of Olly's baser suggestion, — " I reckoned that she should get the first word from ;/ic and not from a stranger. I knowed she warn't in Californy, or shed hev seen them handbills 1 issued five years ago. '\Vhat did 1 do? Thar is a })apcr wot's jmnted in New York, called tin' IN WHICH GAHRIF,r> RKCO(;XIZF,S THK I'ROPRTFT! KS. 210 L^hlly lifting ee to beget rcmtMiil)cr ,^ht make a thcr was to There was it, ])ut they lild was in ear me. I as sharji in dn't. And ad that she ngers. Ye for ye was )urself, hut le to keep d alius ez t fur Clra( y ; should he ut reasons Oily, " that lature than childhood could only lly imjiati- that shv - Its," boidly suggestion. om ;//<■ and \y, or shed kVhat did I called the 'Herald.' Thar is a place in that thar [)aper whar they print notisses to y)eople that is fur, fur away. 'I'hey is precious words from fathers to their sons, tVom husbands to their wives, from brothers to sisters ez can't find each other, from " '• I'loni sweethearts to their bo's," said Oily briskly, " I know." (iabriel [). used in speechless horror. " \'cs," CO Hinued Oily. " They calls 'em' ' Personals.' Lord I / know aM 'bout them, (lalsgels bo's by them, Oabe !" (ial)riel looked up at the bright, arching vault above him. Vet it did not darken nor split into fragments. And he hesitated. Was it worth while to go on ? Was there anything he could tell this terrible child — his own sister — which she did nut already know better than he ? '• I wrote one o' them Personals," he went on to say, doggedly, •' in this ways." He i)aused, and fumbling in his waistcoat l)Ocket finally drew a well-worn newsi)ai)er slip, and straightening it with some care from its multitudinous enfoldings, read it slowl)'. and with that peculiar j)atn^nizing self-conscio"-;ness whi( h distinguishes the human animal in the rehearsal Oi .'♦^s literary composition. " VA G. C. will communicate with sufferin' and anxious friends, she will confer a favor on old (iabe. I will come and see her, and Oily will rise up and welcome her. Ef G. C. is sick or don't want to come she will write to ( \. C. G. C, is same as usual, and so is Oily. All is well. Address G. C., One Horse Gulch, Californy — till further notiss." " Read it over again," said Oily. Cahriel did so, readily. "Ain't it kinder mixed u[) with them G. C.'s?" queried the prat tical Oily. " Not for she," responded Gabriel quickly ; " that's just what July said when 1 showed her the ' Pursonal.' Hut 1 sed to her as 1 sez to you, it ain't no puzzle to Gracy. S/ft- knows ez our letters is the same. And ef it 'pears ([ueer to strangers, Wilt's the odds? 'I'het's the idee ov a ' personal.' Howsomever, it's all right, Oily. Fur," he continued, lowering his voice con- fidentiallv, and drawing his sister closer to his side — iTs bin ansu'ind f' ''By Grace?" asked Oily. f, . t , X ■;■ • > • 220 GAI'.KIKI, CONROY, i;!fci:::' ■ • . lift'-. ,1 ' •■ " No !" said Clal)nel, in some slight ronfusion, " not by (iraro. exactly — that is- but ycr's the answer." He drew from his bosom a small ( hamois skin purse, such as miners used fortlieir loose gold, and extracted the more j^recious slip, " Read it," he said to Oily, turning away his head. Oily eagerly seized and read the i)a])ei. " (^i. C. — Look no more for the missing one who will ncwr return. 1-ook at home. He hai)i)y. V. A." Oily turned the slij) over in her hands. " Is that all ?" "^hc asked in a higher key, with a rising indignation in her pink cheeks. " 'I'het's all," responded Gabriel, " short and shy —that's Oracy, all over." " Then all 1 got to say is it's mean !" said Oily, bringing her brown fist down on her knee. " And that's wot I'd say to that thar \\ A. -that Philip Ashley — if 1 met him." A singular look, quite unlike the habitual placid, good-humor ed expression of the man, crossed Gabriel's face as he (piietl\ reached out and took the pai)er from Olly's hand, " Thet's why I'm goin' off," he said, simply. " Goin' off," repeated Oily. " Goin' off — to the States. To New York," he responded, "July and me. July sez — and she's a peart sort o' woman in her way, ef not o'your kind. Oily," he interpolated apologetically. " but i)owTul to argyfy and plan, and she allows ez New York 'ud nat'rally be the stampin' ground o' sich a high-toned feller az him. And that's why I want to talk to ye. Oily. Thar's only two things ez 'ud ever jxirt you and me, dear, and cne on cm cz this very thing — it's my dooty to Gracy, and the other ez my dooty to you. Kt ain't to be expected that when you oughtcr be gettin' your edykation you'd be cavortin' round the wcrkl with me. And you'll stop yer at Sacremento in a Ai first-( la^s school, ontil I come back. Are ye hark'nin', dear?" "Yes," said Oily, fixing her clear eyes on her brother. " And ye ain't to worrit about me. And it 'ud be as well. Oily, ez you'd forget all 'bout this yer gulch, and the folks, ln' yer to be a lady, and in bein' thet, brother Gabc don't want enythin' to cross ye. And I want to say to thct feller, nil . ' ye ain't to jedge this yer fammerly by me, fur the men o' th ' IN WlllLH (JAHHIKK KKCOCN IZKS IIIK I'kOPK Itl IKS. 221 o will never y woman in fainniorly gin'rally s[)eakin' runs to si/e, and ain't, so to speak, strong ii|) yer,'" (.ontinuccl (labricl, phu in^,^ his hands on his sandv curls, '' l)ut thar's a Httlc lady in sthool in Calitorny o/ is just what (iracy would hcv bin if slic'd hcd the schoolin". :\ju\ efve wants to converse with her she kin giv' you pints enny time.' And then 1 brings you up, and nat'rally I rr( kon thet vou ain't goin' back on brother (labe — in Stronomy, (Jrammar, Rithmetic and them things." '• but wot's the use oi huntin" (Irace ef she says she'll never return?" said Oily, shar[)ly. " ^'e musn't read them ' personals ' e/ ef they were s(|uare, 'I'hev're kinder (onundrums, ye know puzzles. It says, (i. ('. will never return. \\'ell, 'sj)0se G. C. has another name Hon't you see ? " " .Married, maybe," said Oily, clapping her hands. '■ Surely," said Gabriel, with a slight color in his < heeks. "Thet's so." " Hut "spose it doesn't mean (irace after all," persisted Oily. Gabriel was for a moment staggered. " But July sez it does," he answered, doubtfully. Oily looked as if this evidence was not entirely satisfactory. " But what does ' look at home' mean ? " she continued. " Thet's it," said Gabriel, eagerly. " 'i'het reads. Look at little Oily — ain't she there? And thet's like Gracy — alius thinkin' o' somebody else." " Well," said Oily, " I'll stop yer, and let you go. But what are iw/ goin' to do without me ?" Gabriel did not reply, "^rhe setting sun was so nearly level with his eyes that it dazzled them, and he was fain to hide them among the clustering curls of Oily, as he held the girl'si head in both his hands. After a moment he said, '• Do ye want to know why 1 like this old cabin and this ^er chimbly, Oily?" ''Yes," said Oily, whose eyes were also affected by the sun, and who was glad to turn them U) the objet t indicated. '• It ain't because you and me hez sot there many and many a day, fur thet's suthin that we ain't goin' to think about any more. It's because. Oily, the first lick i ever struck with a ]ii( k on this hill was just yer. And I raised this yer chimblv ' • -I * . 4 .♦ t « ■x .x^- "M H:¥ 900 (iAItKIKl, C(»NU(>V. with the r()( k. l-'olks ihink ihct it was over yonder in the sloj^c whar 1 struck ihc silver lead, tlicl I lirsl druv a i)i( k. l>iil it warn't. And I somctinics think, Oily, ihct I've had as much s([uare lonitort outer thet fust li(k ez I'll ever git outer the lead yonder. iUit come Oil;/, come! July will W wonderin' whar you is, and ther's a stranger yonder ( omin' up the road, and 1 reckon I ain't ez fine a lookin' ho e/, a yoiiiii; lady e/ you ez, orter to co-mand. Never mind, Oily, he needn't know ez you and me is any relashuns. Come ! " In spite of (labriel's precautionary haste, the stranger who was approaching by the only trail which led over the rocky hill side, perceived the couple, and turned towards them interroga- tively, (lahriel was forced to stoj), not however without fiiM givi?ig a slight re-assuring pressure to Olly's hand. " Can you tell me the way to the hotel - the (Irand Conn a House 1 think they call it?" the traveler asked politely. lie would have been at any time an awe-inspiring and aggressive object to One Horse (iulch and to (labriel, and ;it this particular moment he was particularly discomposing. lb' was elaborately dressed, buttoned and i)atent-leather-l)ooted in the extreme limit of some by-gone fashion, and had the added effrontery of spotless ruffled linen. As he addressed Gabriil he touched a tall black hat, sat'red in that locality to ( lergvmcn and gamblers. 'I'o add to (labriel's discomfiture, at the mention of the (Irand Conroy House, he had felt Oily stlfTen aggressively under his hand. " l-'oiler this 3'cr trail to the foot of the hill, and ye'll strike Main street, that'll fetch yer thar. I'd go with ye a piece, but I'm imployed," said Gabriel, with infinite tact and artfulness, accenting each word with a ])inch of Olly's arm- " imployed by this yer young lady's friends . to see her home, and bein' a partikler .sort o' fammerly, they raises hell when 1 don't conic reg'lar, A.vin' your i)arding, don't they, Miss?" And to stop any possible retort from Oily, before she could recover from her astonishment he had hurried her into the shadows of the evergreen pines of Conroy Hill. I'kAN'SlKNT (JUKSI'S Al' I UK (IkAND t'(»NkoV. CIIAI'IKR XX\. THANSIKNT GL'KSIS A I' THE (".RAND CONROV. I'm: (Iraiul (^oiiroy Hotel was new, and had tlu- rare virtue (it" ( oniparative cleanliness. As yet the otlors of by-gone dinners, and forgotten siijjpers, and long dismissed breakfasts had not possessed and permeated its halls and i)assages. There was no distinctive tlavor of the preceding guests in its freshly ( lothed and papered rooms. 'J'here was a certain virgin ( nvness about it, and even t]ie a< tive ministration of Mrs. Markle and Sal was delicately veiled from the public by the iiilerposition of a bar-keeper and Irish waiter. Only to a few of the former habiluis did these ladies a|)ijear with their former frankness and informality. 'There was a i)ublic parlor, glittering with gilt-framed mirrors and gorgeous with red |)lush furniture, \\hi(h usually froze the geniality of One Horse (lulch, and icjfressed its larger expression, but there was a little sitting- room beyond sacred to the widow and her lieutenant Sal, where visitors were occasionally admitted. Among the favored few who penetrated this an ana was Lawyer Maxwell. He was a widower and was supposed to have a cynical distrust of the st.x, that was at once a challenge to them and a .source of (l.uiger to himself. Mrs. Markle was of course fully aware that Mrs. C'onroy had been Maxwell's client, and that it was while on a visit to him she had met with the accident that resulted in her meeting with Gabriel. Unfortunately Mrs. Markle was unable to I'litirely satisfy herself if there had been any previous ac<]uaint- aiue. Maxwell had declared to her that to the best of his knowledge there had been none, and that the meeting was purely accidental." He coukl iXa this without violating the confidence of his client, and it is fair to presume that upon all other matters he w:is loyally uncommunicative. That Madame I )ovarges had consulted him regarding a claim to some pr()j)erty was the only information he im))arted. In doing this, however, he once accidentally stumbled, and spoke of Mrs. > ■ •'■* * . *. » , 224 (;AnKIKl- lUNKOV. I • .n* '* ■■;- ^^ ■»' Devalues as *' (lra< c Conroy." Mrs. Markic instantly linked up. *' T nu-nn Mrs. Conroy," lie said, hastily. "(Irace that was his sister wlio was lost— wasn't it ?" " Vcs," replied Maxwell (IcnuMcIy, " did he ever talk nnuli to you about her ? " *' No o," said Mrs. Markle, with great frankness; *' he and nie onlv talked on gin'ral toi>i< s ; but from what Oily used tn let on. I reckon that sister was *he onlv woman he ever loved." Lawyer Ma\well, who with an amused recollection of his extraordinary interview with (iabriel in regard to the woman before him, was watching her mischievously, suddenly became grave. •' I guess you'll find, Mrs. Markle, that his present wife amplv nils the i)lace of hrs lost sister," he said, more seriously than lie had intended. " Never," said Mrs. Markle, quickly, " Not she— the designin', crafty hussy ! " " I am afraid you are not doing her justice," said Maxwell, wiping away a smile from his lii)S, after his characteristii: habit ; "but then it's not strange that two bright, pretty women are unable to admire each other. What reason have you to ( hariie //(•/- with being designing?" he asked again, with a sudden return of his former seriousness. "Why, her marryin' him," resjionded Mrs. Markle, franklv ; "look at that simi)le, shy, bashful critter, do you supi)ose he'd marry her marry any woman that didn't throw herself at his head? eh?" Mrs. Markle's ])ique was so evident that even a i)hilosopher like Maxwell could not content himself with referring it to the usual weakness of the sex. No man cares to have a woman exhibit habitually her weakness for another man, even when he possesses the power of restraining it. He answered somewhat (juicklv as he raised his hand to his mouth to wii)e away tin smile that, however, did not come : " IJut sui)i)ose that you — and (Others — are mistaken in (jabriel's character. Suppose all this simplicity and shyness is a mask. Sui)pose he is one of the most ])ertect and successful TkANSIKNI (lUKSTS AT TUK (IKAND CONUOV. 'J2f> .Klorson or off the stage. Supjiosc he should turn out td havi- (lit civt'd cvcryl)()dy - even his i)rcsciit wife?"— and law\er Maxwell sl()|)i)ed in time. Mrs. Markle instantly fired. '* Sujjpose liddlesti( ks and li;i|» jacks ! I'd as soon think o' sus|)L'.tin' that ( hiltl," she viid. pointing to the unconscious Mantv. " \\n\ lawvers are alius suspei n' what you ( an't understand I " She |)aused as Maxwell wiped his face again. " What do you mean an\ way — win don't you speak out ? What do you know of him ? " *' C)h, nothing ! Oidy it's as fait to say all this ot him as Ikt —on about the same evidence. For instance liere's a siiii|)le ignorant fellow — " "lie ain't ignorant," interrupted Mrs. Markle, sacrifii ing argument to loyalty. '* Well, this grown-up child ! He discovers the biggest lead in One Horse (iulch, and manages to get the shrewdest financier in California to manage it for him, and that, too. after he has snatched up an heiress and a pretty woman before the rest of them got a sight of her. 'I'hat may be simi)licity ; bni niv experience of guilelessness is that, ordinarily, it isn't .^ - lucky." ''They won't do him the least good, depend upon it." said Mrs. Markle, with the air of triumi)hantly closing the argument. It is very possible that Mrs. .NIarkle's dislike was sustained ;ui(l kept alive by Sal's more active animosity, and the strict I'sf'ioNage that young woman kej)! over the general movements and condition of the Conroys. (iabriel's loneliness, his ta\orite haunt on the hill-side, the number and (luality of Mrs. ("nnroy's visitors, even fragments of (onversation held in the family circle, were all known to Sal, and redelivered to Mrs. Markle with Sal's own coloring. It is possible that most of the ,Ui)ssip concerning Mrs. Conroy already hinted at had its origin in the views and observations of this admirable young woman, who did not confine her confidences entirely to her mistress. .And when one day a stranger and guest, staying at tlie (Irand ("onroy House, sought To enliven the solemnity of breakfast by s'l'ial c«f)nverse with Sal regarding the (Jonroy's, she told him nearly everything that she had already told Mrs. Markle. I am aware that it is alleged tluat some fascinating (juality in 4f..*' .1 1 . 2l>(» (;Ai!kii:i, coVKoV. < -■ ^ "» .0- this slianj;i'r's in.iiiiu'r and ,i|>|i( ii.iin f svorkfil upon th? sus(c|>lil>le iMliirc and looscnccl the tongue ol tliis scvori virgin ; hut, beyond a certain dis|)()itili()n to minister personalK to his wants, to hover around liini an hly willi a greater (puunity of dishes tlian that usually offered tlie transient guest, and to occasionally expatiate on the excellence of some extra viand, there was really no ground for tlu' report. (!ertainly, the guesi was no ordinary man ; was (|uile unlike the regular hahitiih ol ihc house, and perha|)S, to sonie extent justified thi^ favoritism. He was young, sallow faced, with very whitr teeth and slim, yellow hands, and a troi)i< al. implusive manner, which Miss Sarah (!lark generally referred to as " l^yetalian." I venture to transcribe sometlvng of his outward oral expression. *' I care not greatly for the flapjat k, nor yet for the dried ai>ples," said Vic tor, whom the intelligent reader has at on( r recognized, "but a single cuj) of coffee sweetened by those glances and offered by those fair hands which I kiss I— are to me enough. And you think that the Meestress Conroy does not live hap|)ily with her husband. Ah ! you are wise, yon are wise, .\lees Clark ; I would not for much money fmd ni) self under these criticism, eh ?" " Well, eyes bein' given to us to see with by the Lord's holv will, and it ain't for weak creeturs like us to misplace oui gifts or magnify 'em," said Sal, in shrill bashful c onfus'on, allcnvinu an under-done fried egg to trie kle trom the i)lat» on the coat- collar of the unconscious Judge Beeswinger, — " 1 do say when a woman sez to her husband, ez she's sworn to honor and obey, 'this yer's my house, and this yen's ftiy land, and yer kin git.' thar ain't much show o' happiness thar. VX it warn't for hearin" this with my own ears, bein' thar accidental like, and in a sogial way, 1 wouldn't have believed it. And she allowin" to be ;i lady, and afeared to be c:ivil to c:ertin tolks ez is ez good ez slir and far better, and don't find it necessary to git married to git a position— and could hav done it a thousand times over cf so inc lined. But folks is various and self-f)raise is open disgrace. I,et me recommend them beans. The pork, as we alius kilK ourselves for the l)ene(it o' transient guests, bein' a speciality. " It is of your kindness, Mees (JIark, I am already full. Aii'i I f nrWSlKNI ••• ': t ' .• * *'>■ » • • ^i-.*, cnibnrrnssnHnt, and rejoined, with an a'Tcc.tation of an h in- dignatio". : " Tliank ye t'ur savin' I lie — and it's my pay fur bein' a gossip and ez good ez I send- -but thar's Olymjjy Conroy packed away to school fur six months, and thar's the new suj)erintend- ent ez is come \\\) to take (ial)riers situation, and he a-sittin' in A gray coat next to ye a minit ago 1 Eh? And ye won't take notliin' more? Api)il or cranl)ear' i)ie ? — our own make? I'm afeerd ye ain't made out a dinner." But V^ictor had aheady risen hurriedly and departed, leaving Sal ;n tormenting doubt whether she had not, in her coquet- tish indignation, irritated the tropical nature of this sensitive Italian. " I orter allowed fur his bein' a Turrinerand not been so free. Pore young man ! 1 thought he did look tuk back when 1 jest allowed that he said 1 lied." And with a fixed intention of indicating i^.er forgiveness and good-will the next morning by an extra dish, Sal retired some- wh::t dejectedly to the jiantry. She made a point, somewhat later, of dusting the hall in the vicinity of Victor's room, l)ut was i)Ossibly disap])ointed to find the door open and the tenant absent. Still later, she imparted some of this inter^•iew to Mrs. Markle with a certain air of fatigued politeness, and a sugges- tion that, in the interest of the house solely, she had not re- pressed, perhaps, as far as maidenly pride and strict proi>riety dem.mded, the somewhat extravagant advances of the stranger. " I'm sur.,' she added briskly, — "why he kept a-Iookin' and a-talkin' at :iie in that way mind can't consave, and transients did notis.;. And if he did go off mad, why, he kin git over it." H;ivi» ( thus delicately conveyed the impression of an ardent Sv)ulher'' nature checked in its exuberance, she became mys- tcriousl reticent and gloomy. It is j)robabie that Miss Clark's theory of Gabriel's departure was 7)o!. original with her or entirely limited to her own experi- ence. A v'<"rv decided disapi)rol)ation of Gabriel's intended trip was prevalent in the gulches and bar-room. He quickly lost his late and hard-earned popularity ; not a few questioned his moral right to leave One Horse (iulch until its property was put ])eyond a fin;>,icial doubt in the future. The men who TRANSIENT (lUKSTS AT TMK CONkuV Hoi >\: in- had hitherto ignored tlic profjosition that he was ir. any way responsible tor the late improvement in ))usiness, now oi)enly condemned him for abandoning the position they dec lared lie never had. The " Silverojwbs Messenger" talked vaguely (>'" the danger of '* changing superintendents " at sik h a iiionieiit, and hinted that the stock of the c()m[)any would suffer. The rival i)a])er— for it was found that the interests of the town re- (juired a separate and distinct exjircssion had an editorial on "absenteeism," and spoke crushingly of those men who, having enriched themselves out of the resources <>( One ilorse (ailch, were now seeking to dissipate that weiilth in the excesses of foreign travel. Meanwhile the humble object of this < riticism, oblivious in his humility of any jjublic interest in his movements or inten- tions, busied himself in )irej)arations for his departure. He had refused the offer of a huge rent for his house fn^m the new superintendent, but had retained a trusty servant to keep' it, with a view to the possible return of Grace. " Ef thar mout ever come a young gal yer lookin' fur me," he said privately to this servant, " yer not to ask any (|uestions partiklaly ef she looks sorter shy and bashful, I -at ye'll gin her the best room in the house and send to me by igspress, and ye needn't say anything to Mrs. Conroy about it." Observing the expression of virtuous alarm on the face of the domestic — she was a married woman of some comeliness who was not living with her husband on account of his absurdly jealous disposition— he added ha.stily : " She's a young woman o' proputty e/. hez troubil about it, and wishes to l)e kej.'' secret."' And having in this way thoroughly convinced his handmaid of the vilencss of his motives, and the existence of a dark .secret -in the Conroy household, he said no more, but ])aid a flying visit to OI!y secretly, packed away nil the remnants of his dec ased mothers wardrobe, cut (God know for what jturpose!) .Muall i)atches from the few oUl dresses that Cirace had worn that were still sacredly kej't in his wardrobe, and ])Ut them in his jiocket- book ; want'er.'d in his usual lonely way on the hill-side, and spent solitary hours in his deserted cabin ; avoided the sharj) advances of Mrs. >(arkle, who once aggressively met him in his •i. 230 GAHRIKL CONUOY. ♦ « long post-prandial walks, as well as the shy propinquity of his wife, who would fain have delayed him in her bower, and so having, after the fashion of his sex, made the two women who lovtv.1 him exceedingly uncomfortable, he looked hopefully for ward to the time when he should be happy without either. CHAPTER XXXI IN WHICFI MR. DUMPHY TAKES A HOLIDAY. * . I I' > It was a hot day on the California coast. In the memory of the oldest American inhabitant its like had not been experi- enced, and although the testimony of the Spanish Californian was deemed untrustworthy where the interests of the American i)eo- l)ic were concerned, the statement that for sixty years there had been no .such weather was accepted without question. The additional fact, vouchsafed by Don Pedro Peralta, that the great earthquake which shook down the walls of the Mis- sion of San J uan Bautista had been preceded by a week of such abnormal meteorology, was promptly supi)ressed as being of a quality calculated to check immigration. Howbeit, it was hoi-. The usual afternoon trade-winds had pretermitted their rapid panting breath, and the whole coast lay, as it were, in the hush of death. The evening fogj that always had lapped the wind-abraded surfaces of the Meak seaward hills were gone too ; the vast Pacific lay still ai.d glassy, glittering, but in- tolerable. The outlying sand dunes, unmitigated by any breath of air, blistered the feet and faces of chance pedes- trians. For once the broad verandas, piazzas, and balconies of San Francisco cottage architecture were consistent and ser viceabie. People lingered upon them in shirt sleeves, with all the exaggeration of a novel experience. French \\indows that had always been barred a^-ainst the fierce afterno/^n winds, were suddenly thrown o])en ; that brisk, energetic step with which the average San Franciscan hurried to business or ple;i ■■t IN WHICH MR. UIMPHY lAKKS A HOI.IDAV. 231 sure, was changed to rn idle, purposeless lounge. The saloons were crowded with tlursty multitudes, the quays and wharves with a people who had never before appreciated the tonic of salt air; the avenues leading over the burning sand-hills to the ocean were thronged all day with vehicles. ^The numerous streets and by-ways, abandoned by their great scavenger, the wind, were foul and ill-smelling. P'or twenty-four hours busi- ness was partly forgotten ; as the heat continued and the wind withheld its custoin."try tribute, there were some changes m the opinions and beliefs of the people ; doubts were even expressed of the efficacv of the climate ; a few heresies were uttered re- garding business and social creeds, and Mr. Dumphy and certain other financial magnates felt vaguely that if the ther- mometer continued to advance, the rates of interest must fall correspondingly. E(}ual to even this emergency, Mr. l^umphy had sat in his office all the morning, resisting with the full strength of his aggressive nature any disjxjsition on tiie part of his customers to succumb financially to the unusual weather. Mr. Dumphy's shirt collar was off; with it seemed to have dejjarted some of his respectability, and he was, perhaps, on the whole, a trifle less imposing than he had been. Nevertheless he was still dominant, in the suggestion of his short bull neck, and two visitors who entered, observing the deshabilk of this great man, felt that it was the proper tiling for them to in.stantly unbutton their own waistcoats nnd loosen theii cravats. •* It's hot," said Mr. Pilcher, ar. »Mninent contractor "You bet!" res])onded Mr Dum^Oiy. " Must be awful on the Atlantic coast! People dying by hundreds of sunstroke; that's the style out there. Here, there's nothing of the kind ! A nian stands things here that he couldn't there.'' Having thus re-established the supremacy of the California climate, Mr. Dumpliy came directly to business " Bad news from One Horse Gtilch '" he ..aid. qui( kl\ As that was the subject his visitors came to speak about, — a fad of which Mr. Dumphy was fully aware, — he added sharply : " What do you propose ? ' '#• ( • • •1 . i . Itii " I 'W2 GAnRIKI, CON ROY. ,«. « ' .1*' t Mr. Pilcher, who was was a large stoi kliolder in the Conroy mine, responded, hesitatingly : ** We've heard that the lead opens badly." "Devilish bad!" interrupted Dumphy. "What do you proi)ose?" " 1 suppose," continued Mr. Pik her, " the only thing to do is to get out of it before the news becomes known. " No !" snid I)uni|)hy, promi)tly. The two men stared at ea( h other. "No!" he continued, with a f|ui(k, short laugh, which was more like a logical expression than a mirthful emotion. "No, we must hold on, sir ! l-ook yer ! there's a dozen men, as you and me know, that we could unload to to-morrow. Suppose we did? Well, what ha])pens? They go in on four hundred thousand- that's alxnit the figures we represent. WcVi. They begin to examine and look around ; them men, Pilcher," — (in Mr. I)umj)hy's more inspired moods he rose above considera- tions of the Knglish (Irammar) — "them men want to know' what that four hundred thousand's invested in: they ain't goin' to take our word after we've got their money — that's human nature, — and in twenty-four hours they find they're sold ! That don't look well for me nor you — docs it ?" There was not the least assumption of superior honor or in- tegrity — indeed, scarcely any self-consciousness or sentiment of any kind, imi)lied in this speech ; yet it instantly affected both of the sharj) business men, who might have been supicious of sentiment, with an impression of being l)oth honorable and manly. Mr. Pilcher's comi)anion, Mr. Wyck, added a slight embarrassment to his reception of. these great truths, whi(h Mr, Dumphy noticed. " No," he went on ; "what we must do is this ; Increase the capital stock just as much again. That will enrble us to keep everything in our hands- -news and all — and if it should leak out afterward, we have half a dozen others with us to keep tho secret. Siv months hence will be time to talk of selling, ju>t now, buying is the thing ! Vou don't believe it ! — eh ? Well ! Wyck, I'll take yours at the figure you paid. What do you say ? . — quick !" Mr. Wyck, more confused than a])])earcd necessary, declared I ii"., ■N VVHtCH MR. hUMPHV TAKF.S A HOf.IltW. 2Xi his intention of holding on; Mr. Pile her laughed. Mr. |)iiinj)hy barked behind his liand. "That offer's o|)en for ninety days- -will you take it? No! Well, then, that's all 1" and .\ir. DumpTiy turned again to his desk. Mr. Pilcher took the hint and drew Mr. Wyck away. '• Devilish smart chaj), that Dunii)hy ! " said Pilcher, as tht-y pa.ssed out of the door. " An honest man, by Jove," responded Wyck, When they had gone, Mr. Dumphy rang his bell. " Ask Mr. Jaynes to come and see me at once. Go mm' / Vou must get there before A\'yck does. Run !" The clerk disapj)eared. In a few moments Mr. Jaynes, a sharp, but very youthful-looking broker, entered the office parlor. " Mr. Wyck will want to buy back that stock he put in your hands this morning, Jaynes. I thought Til tell you it's worth fifty advance now !" The precocious youth grinned intelligently and de|)arted. Hy noon of that day it was whispered that notwithstanding the rumors of unfavorable news from the Conroy mines, one of the heaviest stockholders had actually l^ought back, at an advance ot fit'ty dollars [)er share, some stock he had previously sold. More than that, it was believed that Mr. l)um[)hy had taken advantage of these reports and was secretly buying. In spite of the weather, tor some few hours there had been the greatest excitement. Possibly from some com])lacency arising from this, possibly iroin some singular relaxing in the atmos|)here, Mr. Dumphy at two o'clock shook .if the cares of business and abandoned himself to recreation — refusing even to take cognizance of the tard of one Colonel Starbottle, wlii( h was sent to him with a rt-qiiest for an audience. At half past two he was behind a paii ot last horses, one of a carriage load of ladies and gentlemen, roHing over the scorching sand-hills toward the Pacitlc that lay I aim and cool beyimd. As the well aj)pointed equij)age rattled up the Bush street hill, many an eye was turned with envy antl admiration toward it. The spectacle of two pretty women among the pa-sengers was perhaj^s one reason ; the fact that !'. ; '■ 1 . •1 ^ i . I , ' ' ' * * • . • ' • * ■ >■ ■:'V .■■. 234 (iAURItl, CONROV. ^4.;'.;- illr £1 -I • everybody recognized in the showy and brilliant driver the celebrated Mr, Rollingstone, an al)]e fin jk ier and rival of Mr. Dumphy's, was j>eriiaps equally jjotent. I'or Mr. Rollingstont was noted tor his "turnouts," as weJl as for a certain impulsive South Sea extravagance and pictures(]ue hospitality which Dumphy envied and at times badly imitated. Indeed, the present excursion was one of Mr. Kollingstunes famous /ties champetres, and the present company was composed of the elit( of San I'lancisco nnd made self-complacent and appreciative by an enthusiastic Jvistern tourist. Their way lay over shifting sand dunes, now motionless and glittering in the cruel, white glare of a California sky, only relieved here and there by glimpses of the blue bay beyond, and odd miwine-looking buildings like shells scattered along the beach, as if they had been cast uj) and forgotten by some heavy tide. Further on, their road skirted the base of a huge solit*try hill, broken in outline by an outcrop of gravestones, sacred to the memory of worthy i)ioneers who had sealed their devotion to the "healthiest climate in the world" with the'r lives. Occasionally these grave-stones continued to the foot of the hill, where, struggling with the drifting sand, they suggested a half-exhumed Pompeii to the passing traveller. '1 hey were the skeletons at the feast of every San Francisco pleasure-seeker, the memento mori of every picnicking i)arty, and were visible even from the broad verandas of the suburban i)avilions, where tlie gay and thoughtless citizens ate, drank, and was merry. Part of the way the busy avenue was parallel with another, up which even at such times occasionally crept the lugubrious pro- cession of hearse and mourning coach to other pavilions, scarcely less crowded, where there were "funeral baked meats" and sorrow and tears. And beyond this again was the gray clernal sea, and at its edge, perched upon a rock and rising out of the very jaws of the gnashing breakers, a stately pleasure dome — decreed by some s])eculative and enterprising San Francisco landlord — the excuse and terminus of this popular excursion. Here RuUingstone drew up, and, alighting, led his party into a brighi, cheery room, whose windows gave upon the sea. A few other guests, evidently awaiting them, were mitigating their ♦ ' f\ WIKCH MR. DCMI'IIV TAKF.S A HDr.lDAY. iiii|aticn( c l*y \vat( liin^^ the uncouth L;;^inb()ls of the hii^e-sea lions, wlio, on tlic rocks beyond, orfeicl a contrast to the en- gai^ing and comfortable interior that was at once i)leasant and t'xiiting. Jn the c(;nter of the room a table overloaded with overgrown fruits and grossly large roses somewhat ostenla'aously pnx laimed the coming feast. " Here we are !" said Mr. num])hy, bustling into the room with that brisk, business-like manner which his triends fondly believed was frank cheerfulness, "and on time, too I" he added, drawing out his watch. "• Inside of thirtv minutes — how's that, eh?" Me clapped his nearest neighbor on the back, who, pleased with this familiarity from a man worth five or six millions, did not stoj) to consider the value of this celerity of motion in a pleasure excursion on a hot day. ••Weill" said Rollingstone, looking around him, " you all know each other, I reckon, or will soon. Mr. Dumphy, Mr. Poinsett, Mr. Pilcher, Mr. Dyce, Mr. Wyck, Mrs. Sei)ulvida, and Miss Rosey Ringround, gentlemen ; Mr. antl Mrs. Raynor of l')()stt)n. There now, that's through I Dinner's ready. Sit down anywhere and wade in. No formality, gentlemen — this is California." There was perhaps some ad\antnge in the absence of cere- mony. The guests almost involuntarily seated themselves ac- cording to their preferences, and Arthur Poinsett found himself beside Mrs. Sepulvida, while Mr. Dumphy placed Miss Ring- round -a pretty, though boyish-looking, blonde, slangy in speech and fashionable in attire — on his right hand. 'i'he dinner was lavish and luxurious, lacking nothing but re- straint and delicacy. There was game in profusion, Iht but flavorless. The fruits were characteristic. The enormous l)caches were blo\>-zy in color and robust in fiber ; the jjears were prodigious and dropsical, and looked as if they wanted to be tapjjcd ; the strawberries were overgrown and yet immature - rather as if they had been arrested on their way to become pine-ai)j)les ; with the exception of the grapes, which were deli- < ate in color and texture, the fruit might have been an ironical honoring by nature of Mr. Dumithy's lavish dralts. ll is i)robable, however, that the irony was los: on ihe ma- ■1 ' i . •:■ i^- 2:{f) r,AHKli:L CONROV. .« < » - . V:-"i i^..' 't ^:J jorlly of thf rompaiiy, vv'luj were inclined to c( ho the extra va- giiiU praise oi' Mr. J\;iynor, the toiuisl. "Wonderful! \von(iurful !" said that gentleman. "If! iiad not seen this I wouldn't have believed it. ^\'hy, that pear would make four of ours." "That's the way we do things here," returned Dimiphy, with the suggestion of being i)ersonally responsible for these abnor- mal growths. He stopped suddenly, for he caught Arthur I'oinsett's eye. Mr. Dumphy ale little in public, but he was at that momeiil tearing the wing of a grouse with his teeth, and there was some- thing so j)eculiar and characteristic in the manner that Arthur looked uj) with a sudden recollection in his glance. Dumphy put down the wing, and Poinsett resumed his conversation wiih Mrs. Sei)ulvida. Jt was not of a quality that interruption scri ously impaired. Mrs. Sei)ulvida was a charming but not an in- tellectual woman, and Mr. Poinsett took up the lost thread ol his discourse quite as readily from her eyes as her tongue. "To have been consistent, nature should have left a race of giants here,' said Mr. Poinsett meditatively. " 1 believe," lie added, more i)ointedly, and in a lower voice, "the late Don Jostf was not a large man." " Whatever he was, he thought a great deal of me !" pouted Mrs. Sepulvida, Mr. Poinsett was hastening to say that if " taking thought " like that could add a " cubit to one's stature," he him.selfwas in a fair way to become a son of Anak, when he was inturrupted by Miss Rosey. " What's all that about big men ? There are none here. They're like the big trees, they don't hang rounci the coast much. You must go to the mountains for your Goliahs." Kmboldened quite as much by the evident annovance of her neighbor as the amused look of Arthur Poinsett, she went on : " 1 have seen the })rehistoric man I — the original athletic sharp ! He is seven feet high, is as heavy as a sea-lion, and has shoulders like Tom Hyer, He slings an awful left. He's got blue eyes as tender as a seal's. Pie has hair like Samson biTi.)rc that woman went l).i(k ou him. He's as brave as a lion amb. He blushes like a uirl, oi and as gentle as a ak gals • ,• • . IN WHICH \IU. I>1 MI'llN 1 \KI > A lltMlI'AV 2M ihc cxUava UM'd to ; I wish I could st.ut iij> such a < olor on even double the provocation," Ot" course cveryhodv lauglied,- it wns tho usual tribute to Miss Roscy's speech, the ^entletnen tVnnklv ;ind iMirlv, the Kidies perhai)s;i httle doubltullv and rearfuIK. Mrs. Sepulvida, following tlie amused eyes ot" Arthur, asked Miss Rosey patron- i/iuLjly where she had seen her phenomenon. " Oh, it's no use, my dear, positively no use. He's mar- ried. 'I'hese plienomenons always Ljet married. No, I didn't see him in a circus, Mr, l)um])hy, nor in a menagerie. Mr. Dvee— but in n girl's school I" Kverybody stared ; a few laughed as if this were an amusing introduction to some possible joke from Miss Rosey. " I was visiting an old school-mate at Madame Im lair's /'v/- swN at Sacramento ; he was taking his little sister to the same school," she went on coolly, " so he told me, 1 love my love with a G,, for he is (luileless and Cientle. His name is (lab- ricl, and he lives in 'i, (lulch." " Our friend, tlic superintendent — I'm blessed," said Dyer, looking at I)':mj)hy, " Yes, but not so very guileless," said Pilcher, — " eh, Dyce ?" The gentlemen laughed; the ladies looked at each other, and then at Miss Ringround, The fearless young woman was C(|ual to the occasion, "What have you got against my giant- — out with it !" "Oh, nothing," said Mr. I'ih her, "only your guileless, sinii)le friend has played the sharpest game on record in Mont- g(Miiery street." "Cio on !" said Miss Rosev. "Shall r?" asi. Pilcher of Dumphy. Dumphy laughed his short laugh. "(io on." Thus supportecl, Mr. Pilcher assumed the case of a graceful •' .Miss Rosey's guileless friend, ladies ami gentlemen, is the superintendent and shareholder in a certain \aluable silver mine in which Dumphy is largely represented. Being about to leave the country, and anxious to realize on his stock, he con- tracted for the sale of a hundred shares at $i,ooo each, with 1., t . 2;j8 GAHKIFI, (ONKOV, > « .• < . t- ■■I ■a in '!' Hi' i'' our friciid Mr. l)y agaiji with the broker's 200 at $i,2oo^r a rise. The rise don't come -won't come — for that sale was Gahn''^'s /co- an Dimijjhv can tell you. There's guilelessness ! There's simplicity ! And it cleared a hundred thousand by the o[)eration." Of the party, none laughed more heartily than Arthur Poinsett. Without analyzing his feelings, he was conscious ot being greatly relieved by this ])Ositive evidence of (iabriiTs shrewdness. And when Mrs. Sepulvida touched his elbow and asked if this were not the siiuatter who held the forged grant, Arthur, without being (X)nscious of any special mean- ness, could not help replying with unnecessary significance that it was. "I believe the whole dreadful story that Donna Dolores told me," she said, " how he married the woman who personated his sister, and all that, the deceitful wretch." " rVe got that letter here," continued Mr. Filcher, drawing from his pocket a folded sheet of letter-pai)er. " It's a curi- osity. If you'd like to seethe documentary evidence of vour friend's guilelessness, here it is," he added, turning to Aliss Ringround. Miss Rosey took the ])aper defiantly and unfolded it, as the others gathered round her, Mr. 1 )umphy availing himself of that o])portunity to lean familiarly over the arm of her chair. The letter was written with that timid, uncertain ink, peculiar to the illiterate effort and suggestive of an occasional sucking of the pen in intervals of abstra(-tion or difficult composition. Saving that characteristic, it is reproduced literally below : IN NVMKII MK. lUMl'IIN I \KI> A HoiinW, L'iiO " I I loss (In.cii, Aif^iis tlu' loth. PkAR Sir : On ;u-0)imt f)f tlmr lu\ iiij; licii liml luck in the I.ci'd wiiili has (lr(i|HMl, I rite llics few lins l-oppinj; you air Well. I h.ive to say we are (ii'iapiMled in the F.eed, it is nut uuk we thoiii;! it was wileli is wy 1 lile thes few hns, tU)W sir ])urhaps you ixpitt ine to i;o (u» with our contrnk. and funiiss yon wuth lOo shars at i i'liuusin tloU pur shar. It issiiil wut no I 'riiouiand dols pur sh.ar, far frumniit. No >ir, it issiit, witih is wy [ rite you thes few lins, and it Wodilent he Kite n(»r stpiar for me to lak it. This is to h^t yon otT Mister I )yee, and hopin it ant no truhhil to ye, fur I shuddint sell ata! thin^e lookin tlii; had it not liein rite nor Mjuar, and hevin' tor up the eonlrak at ween you ai'il nie. So no more at prcssen from yours respectfully, G. Con ROY. " P. S. — Vou nii^ht mind my savin to you about my sister witch is joss sens 1849; If you happind to con> acrost any 'I laks of her^. nu- l)ein' away, y<»n can send the sam to me in Care of Wels Karko ., New York City, witch i.s a grate favor and will he jiade sure. G. C. • " I don't care what you say ; that's an honest letter," said Miss Roscy, with a certain (le< ision of charac ter new to the exi)erienc(; of her friends, " as honest and simple as ever was written. You can bet your pile on that." No one spoke, l)ut a smile of patronizing superiority and chivalrous toleration was ex'hanged by all the gentlemen except Poinsett. Mr. Dumjjhy added to his smile his short arriage to the woman who had i)ersonated i'.;'^ t . 2\() GAMKII I, (0\IU)V. I • ' > • , i ♦ •II' .• ''F the sisu-r, Artluir t';isil\ < <)in|)riliin«li(l. Hut tli.it it wns his own duty, nt'lcr lir had impii^rK-d (lahriiTs < haiai tor, to make any personal i-ffort to < Icar it, was not so |>lain. Ncvcrtlicless, Ik' (lid not answer Mrs. Sepiilvida's look, hut waiketl f,'ravt'lv t" tlu' window, and looked out upon the sea. Mr. huniphv, who. with the instin< t of jealousy, saw iti i'oin:»etl"s remark only a desire to in^^atiatc himself with Miss Kosey, was (|ui( k to follow his lead. *' It's a clear case of r anyway," he said to the young lady, "and maybe you're ri^dit. joe, jiass the ( hampagne." I)yyce and rilcher. "That's so. It would be a devilish good thing on Dyce!" said the latter, good humoredly. " And as I'm in my.self about as much again, 1 reckon 1 should take the joke about as well as he." " But," continued the mystified Mr. Raynor, "do you really mean to say that you have any idea this news is true?" "Yes," resi)onded PiU her, coolly. " Yes," echoed Dyce, with ecjual serenity. "You do?" "We do." The astonished tourist looked from the one to the other with undisguised wonder and admiration, and then turned to his wife. Had she heard it? Did she fully comprehend that here were men ac( epting .and considering an actual and i)resent loss of nearly a (juarter of a million of dollars, as quietly and in- differently as if it were a ])ostage stamj) ? What sui)erb coolness ! What magnitlcerU: indifference ! What supreme and royal confidence in their own resources ! \Vas this not a country of IN WMKII NIK. hi MI'IIN IM>hs ,\ ||n||l»\V. LMl puis? All of wlii( Ii \v;is lUlivorod \\\ a vt)i(c th.it. .iltliou^h (Ht< hid to tlie key of inatrini()ni;il contukiKi'. was still cntirt'ly .iiiiiiltK' to the gofis thcms(>h(s. •' N'l's, ;,'t-ntlcnu-n," < oiitinuod Pilchcr ; "ii's the loiliiiu' ol w.n. 'lothir man's tiiriK'd today, ours tomorrow. Can't .iliord time to be sorry in this < limate. A man's born again hire every day. Move along and pass the bottle.'' What was tliat ? Nothing aj)|)aivntly, i)Ut a rattling of uindows and shaking of the glasses-- the elVet t of a passing ( .iniage or chihlron running on tlie ]>ia//a without. iJut why hail they all risen with a < ommon instin« t, and with ta< es blood less and eyes fixed in horrible expectancy? These were the ipiestions whiih Mr. and Mrs. Kaynor asked themselves luiiriedly, unconscious of danger, yrt with a vague sense of .ilnrm at the terror so plainlv marked upon the < ountenanc es ot those strange, seltpoised people, who, a moment belore. h.id seemed the incarnation of rec kless self c onlidcm e, and inac- cessible to the ordinary annoyances of mortals. .And why were these other pleasure seekers rushing by the windows, and was not that a lady fainting in the hall? .Arthur was the first to speak and tacitlv answer the unasked (|uestion. "It was from cast to west." he said, with a coolness that he tilt was a ft ec ted, and a smile that he knew was not mirthlul. " It's over now, 1 think." He turned to Mrs. Sej)ulvida, who was very white. " ^'ou are not frightened. Surely this is nothing new to you. Let me helj) you to a glass of wine.'' Mrs. Sepulvida took it with a hysterical little laugh. Mrs. Ravnor, who was now conscious of a slight teelingof nausea, did not ol)ject to the same courtesy from .Mr. I'ilcher, whose hand shook visibly as he lilted the chami)agne. Mr. l)um|)hy re- turned from the door-way, in whic h to his own and everybody's surj)rise he was found standing, and took his place at Miss Rosey's side. The young woman was first to re< over her rcc k- less hilarity. " It was a judgment on you for slandering nature's noblest specimen," she said, shaking her finger at the ca[»italist. Mr. Rollingstone, who had returned to the head of his table, laughed. t . ' J 212 fwMiKfKF, C.DNROV. " But 7i'//r7/ was it ?" gasped Mr Raynor, making himself at last heard above the somewhat |)ronf)un(ed gayety otth.c party. 'An earthquake," said Arthur, ([uietly. CHAPTER XXXII. I, I' .< f 'A " ,.!'f n !'■ j-^ MR. DUMPIIY HAS NFAVS OF A noMKSTIC CHARACTER. •'* An earthquake," echoed Mr. Rollingstone cheerfully to his guests. " Now you've had about everytliing we hr.ve to show. Don't be alarmed, madam." he continued to Mrs. Raynor, who was beginning to show symptoms of hysteria. " Nobody ever was hurt by 'em.'' " In two hundred years there hasn't been ;is many persons killed by earthquakes in California as arc struck by lightning on your coast in a sin,.,le summer," .said Mr. Dumphy. ' Never have 'em any stronger than this," .said Mi, Pilcher, with a comforting suggestion of lliere being an absolute limi- tation of nature's freaks on the Pacific coast. " Over in a minute, as you see," said Mr. Dumphy. " And — hello ! what's that ?" In a moment they were on their feet, pale and breathless again — this time Mr. Raynor and his wife among the number. But it Vv'as only a carriage —driving away. " Let us adjourn to the piazza," said Mr. Dumphy, offering his arm to Mrs. Raynor with the air of having risen solely for that puri)ose. ]\[r. Dumphy led the way, and the party followed with some celerity. Mrs. Sepulvida hung back a moment with Arthur, and wh.spered: " Take me back as f oon as you can." *' Vou are not seriously alarmed ? " asked Arthur. " We are too near the sea here," she rei^lied, looking toward the ocean with a sligjit shudder. " Don t ask questions now," she added a little sharply. " Don't you see these Eastern pcc])le are frighten(Ml to dc.ith, ;ind thev may ovprhcnr?*" MR. nrMPMY HAN NKWS <)l A POMF .sill l. HAKACIi K. 24.'> But Mrs. Scpulvida had not loni; to wait, for, in :,i)itc of the pointed asseverations of Messrs. Pilchcr, Ilyce, and I)unii)hy, that earth(|ur.kes were not only harmless out absolutely pos- sessed a san.tary (luality, the piazzas wc^^e found deserted by the usual pleasure-seekers, and even th.: eloquent advocates them- selves betrayed some impatience to be once more on the open road. A brisk drive of an hour ])ut the i)arty again in the hiL^hest spirits, and Mr. and Mrs. Raynor again into the con- dition of chrome admiration and enthusiasm. Mrs. Sepulvida and Mr. Poinsett followed in an Oj)en buggy behind. When they were fairly ujion their way, Arthur asked an explanation of his fair companion's fear of the sea. " There is an old story,*' said Donna Afaria, *' that the Point of Pines — you know where it is, Mr. I'oinselt ? — was once covered by a great wave from the sea that toUowed an earth- i|uake. But tell :ne, do you really think that letter of this man C'onroy's true ?" " I do," said Arthur promptly, " And that there is a prospect that the stock of this big mine may depreciate in value ? " " Well, possibly, yes.'' " And if you knew that I had been foolish enough to put a great deal of monc • in it, you would still talk lo me as you did the other day down there ? " " I should say," responded Arthur, changing the reins to his left hand, that his right might be free for some ])urpose — good- ness knows what ! " I should say that 1 am more than ever convinced that you ought to have some person to look alter you." What followed this remarkable speech I really do not know how to reconcile with the statement that Mrs. vScpulvida made to the Donna Dolores a few cha])ters ago, and J therefore dis- creetly refrain from transcribing it here. Suffice it to say, that the buggy did not come up with the char-a-banc and the rest of the party until long after they had arrived at Mr. Dumi)hv's stately mansion on Rincon Hill, where another costly and elaborate collation \vas prejjared. Mr. l)umj)hy evidently was in spirits, and had so far overcome his usual awe and distrust of Arthur, as well as the slight jealousy he had experienced an hour or so before, as to api)n)a( h '.hat gentleman with a degree "3 ,. i - >' »*' ••J. ■ » ' ■ '. , t •' **,.• '■ (,' i I '"ii I 214 r.ABRIKL CON ROY. of cheerful familiarity that astonished and amused the self-sus tained Arthur, who })erhai)s at that time had more reason for his usual conceit than before. Arthur, who knew, or thought he knew, that Miss Ringround was only co(|uetting with Mr. Dumphy for the laudable purpose of making the more ambitious of her se.K miserable, and that she did not care for his i)erson or p»)sition, was a good deal amused at finding the young lady the subject of Mr. Dumphy's sudden confidences. " V'ou see, Poinsett, as a man of business I don't go as much into society as you do, but she seems to be a straight up and down girl, eh?" he queried, as they stood together in the vestibule after the ladies had departed. It is hardly necessary to say that Arthur was j)ositive and sincere in his praise of the young woman. Mr. Dumphy, by some obscure mental process, taking much of the praise to himself, was highly elated, and perhaps tempted to a greater vinous indulgence than was his habit. Howl)eit, the last bottle of champagne seemed to have obliterated all ])ast suspicion of Arthur, and he .shook him warmlv bv the hand. " I tell ye what now, Poinsett, if there are any prints T can give you, don't be afraid to ask for 'em. I can see what's up between you and the widow. Honor, you know. All right, my boy. She's in the Conroy lode pretty deep, but Pll help her out and you too. You've a good thing there, Poinsett, and [ want you to realize. We understand each other, eh? You'll find me a s(iuare man with my friends. Poinsett. Pitch in ; pitch in. My advice to you is to just pitch in and marry the widow. She's worth it. You can realize on her — you can, by Jove ! You see you and me's, so to speak, ole pards, eh ? \'ou rek'leck old times on Sweetwater, eh? Well, if you must go, goo'-bi ! I s'j)ose she's waitin' for ye. Look you, Poinsy, d'ye see this yer posy in my button-hole ? She give it to me. Rosey did, eh ? Strike me dead if she didn't, ha ! ha ! Won't tak' nothin' drink? Lesh open n'or bo'll. No? Goori ! " until, struggling between disgust, amusement, and self-deprecia- tion, .\rthur absolutely tore himself away from the great financier and his degrading confidences. When Mr. I.)umj)hy staggered back into his drawing-room, a •servant met him with a card. MR. DUMI'HY HAS NtWS Ot A DOMKsilC CHAkACI I R. 245 "The gcntl'man says it's very important business, and he must see you to-night/' he said hastily, antiii])ating the oath and indignant protest of his niaster, '* Me says it's your business, sir, and not his. He's })een waiting here since you came back, sir." Mr. I)umj)hy took the card. It bore the inscrij)tion in ])encil, *' Colonel Starbottle, Siskiyou, on important business." Mr. Dumph) reflected a moment. The magical word "business" brought him to himself. " Show him in — in the office," he said savagely, and retired thither. Anybody less practical than Peter Dumphy would have dignified the large showy room in which he entered as the library. I'he rich mahogany shelves were filled with a hetero- geneous collection of recent books, very fresh, very new, and glaring as to binding and subject ; the walls were hung with files of newspapers and stock rei)orts. Tliere was a velvet-lined cabmet coiitaining minerals — all of them gold or silver-bearing. 'J'here was a maj) of an island that Mr. Dumphy owned; there was a marine view, with a representation of a steamshij), also owned by Mr. I)i:mj)hy. There was a momentary relief from these facts in a very gorgeous and badly painted picture of a trojiical forest and sea-beach, until inciuiry revealed the circum- stance that the sugar-house in the corner under a j)alm-tree was " run " by Mr. Dumphy, and that the whole thing could be had for a bargain. The stranger \vho entered was large and somewhat inclined to a corpulency that was. however, restrained in exj)ansion by a blue frock coat, tightly buttoned at the waist, which had the apparent effect of lit'ting his stomach into the higher thoracic regions of moral emotion — a confusion to whic h its owner lent a certain intellectual assistance. The Colonel's collar was very large, v)i)en, and impressive; his black silk neckerchief loosely tied around his coat, occupying considerable ^pace over his shirt-front, and ex|)anding through the upper part of a gilt-but- toned white waistcoat, lent itself to the general suggestion that the i.'olonel had burst his sepals and would flower soon. Above this unfolding the Colonel's face, i)urple, a(iui!'nj-nosed, throi ed looking as to the eye, Mid moist and sloppy-looking as to t . 7^'.d 246 fiAHUIKI, CONROV. .> * . •• •■' ■•'• '* ,. '.4 v. f t J I !' i :'i .'' Hih the mouth, U])tilted ahove his shoulders. The Colonel entered with that tiptoeing celerity of step affected by men wIkj are conscious of increasing corpulency. He car- ried a cane hooked over his fore-arm ; in one hand a large white handkerchief, and in the other a hroad-brimnied hat. He thrust the former gracefully in his breast, laid the latter on the desk, where Mr. Uumphy was seated, and taking an unoffered ('hair himself, coolly rested his elbow on his cane in an attitude of easy expectuncy. *' Say you've got important business ?" said Dumphy. " Hope it is, sir hoi)e it is ! Then out with it. Can't afford to waste time aiiy more here than at the bank. Come ! What is it ?" Nothing ;n the least affected by Mr. Dum])hy's manner, wh(jse habitual brusc^ueness was intensified to rudeness, Colonel Starbottle drew out his handkerchief, blew his nose carefully, returned apparently only about two inches of the cambric to his breast, having the rest displayed like a ruffled shirt, and be- gan with an :iiry gesture of his fat white hand. " 1 was here two iiours ago, sir, when \()u were at the — er — festive l)oard. J said to the l)oy, ' tlon't interru|)t your master. A gentleman worshiping at the shrine of Venus and Bac( hus and attended !\v the muses and immortals, don't want to be in- terrupted.' (ied, sir, I knew a man in Lousiana— Hank Pick- ney — shot his boy— a likely yellow boy worth a thousand dollars — for interrupting him at a i)oker i)arty — and no ladies present ! And the boy only coming in to say that the gin-house was in flames. Perhaps you^I say an extreme case. Know a dozen such — blank me ! So 1 said, ' Don't interrujn him, but when the ladies have risen, and Beauty, sir, no longer dazzles and er-gleams, and tlie table round no longer echoes the er-light jest, than er-spot him ! And over the deserted board, with er- social glass between us, your master and 1 will have our little conlab.'" He rose, and before the astonished Dumjihy could interfere, crossed over to a table where a decanter of whiskey and a carafte of water stood, and filling a glass half full of litjuor, re- seated himself and turned it off with an easy, yet dignified, inclination toward his host. For once onlv M'- Humphy regrelled the al»sence of dignity 1 ' MR. I)i:,Ml'HV IIA^ NKW^ Ol' A l»<»MKsri( ( II AR AC! IKK. 217 in his own manner. It was (juitc evident tli.u his usual brus- ([iicness was utterly ineffective here, and he (|uiekly reeogni/ed in the Colonel the representative of a class of men well kn(nvn in California, from whom any ])ositive rudeness vould have jirovoked a tlemand for satisfaction. It was not a class (rf men that M*". Dumphy had been in the habit of dealing with, and he sat filled with impotent rage, but wise enough to restrain its verbal expression, and thankful that none of his late guests were ])resent to witness his discomfiture. Only one good effect was due to his visitor. Mr. Dumphy, through baftled indigna- tion and shame, had became sober. " No, sir," continued Colonel Starbottle, setting his glass upon his knee, and audibly smacking his large lips. *' No, sir. 1 waited in the er-antechainber until I saw you part with your guests, until you bade er-adieu to a certain fair nym|)h. (.led, sir, 1 like your taste, 1 do, blank me, and 1 call myself a judge of fine women. IJlank it all. I said to myself, sir, ' lilank it all. Star, you ain't goin' to ))oi) (Uit u])on a man just as he's ministering to Beauty and putting a shawl u])on a j)air of alabaster shoulders like that ! ' Ha ! ha ! Ged, sir, 1 re- membered myself that in '43 in Washington at a ])arty at Tom Hcnton's I was in just such a position, sir. ' Are you never going to get that cloak on, Star?' she says to me - the blankest, most beautiful creature, the acknowledged belle of that whole winter- -'43, sir; as a getuleman your.seif, you'll understanil why 1 don t ])articularize. ' It' I had my way madam,' 1 said, ' 1 never would !' 1 did, blank me. But you're not drinking, Mr. Dumphy, eh ? A thimbleful, sir, to our better ac([uaintance." Not daring to trust himself, Mr. Dumphy shook his head somewhat imi)atiently, and Colonel Starbottle rose. As he did so, it seemed as if his shoulders had suddenly become broader, and his chest distended until his handkerchief and white waist- coat protruded through the breast of his buttoned coat like a bursting grain of " poj) corn." He advanced slowly and with deliberate dignity to the side of Dumphy. '' If I have intruded upon your ])rivacy, Mr. I )umi)hy," he said, with a stately wave of his white hand — "if, as I surmise, from your disinclination, sir, to call it by no other name, blank me, to exchange the ordinary ccmvivial < ourtesies common between iMk k ,,.. '. r '3.^1 •■ 'a' ,1 jiif •'\l 248 flAhklKI, (ON'kOV. gentlemen, sir, you are disposed to resent any reminiscences of mine as rjdecting ujion the character oftiu; young lady, sir, whom had tlie pleasure U) see in your company — if such be the case, sir, (led I- I am ready to retire now, sir, and to give you to- morrow, or at any time, tlie satisfaction which no gentleman ever refuses another, and which Culpepper Starhottle has never heen known to deny! My card, sir, you have already; my ad dress, sir, is St. Charles Hotel, where 1 and my friend, Mr. Dumphy, will be ready to receive you." " Look here," said Mr. Dumpily in surly but sincere alarm. " I don't drink because I've been drinking. No offense Mr. Starbottle. I was only waiting for you to ojjen what you had on your mind in the way of business to order up a bottle of Cliquot to enable us to l)etter digest it. Take your seat, Col- onel. IVe— blast that nigger ! ilring champagne and two glasses." He rose, and under i)retense of going to the sideboard, added in a lower tone to the servant who entered : " Stay within call, and in about ten minutes bring me some important message from the liank — you hear? A glass of wine with you, Colonel. Happy to make your acquaintance. Here we go !" The Colonel uttered a slight cough, as if to clear away his momentary severity, bowed with gracious dignity, touched the glass of his host, drew out his handkerchief, wiped his mouth, and seated himself once more. " If my object," he began, with a wave of dignified deprecia- tion, " were simply one of ordinary business, I should have sought you, sir, in the bus)- mart, and not among your i.ares and Penates, nor in the blazing lights of the festive hall. 1 should have sought you at that tem|)le which report and com- mon rumor says that you, sir, as one of the favored sons oi Fortune, have erected to her worship. In my intercourse with the gifted John C. Calhoun 1 never sought him, sir, in the gladiatorial arena of the Senate, but rather with the .social glass in the privacy of his own domicile, Cied, :a\\ in my profession we recognize — blank me ! — some blank cjualities in our rela tions, even when professional, with gentlemen, that keeps us MK. DIIMI'HV HAS NKWS Ol A IJCML-Ilc (HARM I H K. 249 from approaching them 'ike a blank Yankee peddler wiili l)l;ink goods uj sell !" "What's your profession?" ask*jd :Vlr. Diuuphy. "Until elected by the < iti/.ens of Siskivou to re[)re.seiit them in the legislative councils I practiced at the bar. Since then I have lieen open occasionally to n tainers in difficult and deli- cate cases. In the various intri-^ues that arise in , olitics, in the more com[)licated relations of the two sexes — in, I may say, the two great i)assions of mankind, ambition and love, my services have, I believe, been considered of value blank me ! It has been my office, sir, to help the steed of vaulting ambi tion er-er-over the fence, and to dry the er-tearful yet glowing cheek of Beauty. But for the necessity of honor and secrecy in my profession, blank it, sir, I could give you the names of some of the blankest elegant women, and some of the fust — the very first men in the land as the clients of Culpepper Star bottle." ♦'Very sorry," began Mr. Dumphy ; "but if you're expecting to put me among your list of clients, I " Without taking the least notice of l)um])hy's half-returned sneer, Colonel Starbottle interrui)ted him coolly. '* Ged, sir! it's out of the question; I'm retained on the other side." The sneer instantly faded from Dumphy's face, antl a look ot genuine surprise took its jjlace. "What do you mean ?" he said curtly. Colo- ol Starbottle drew his chair beside Dumphy, and, lean- ing familiarly over his desk, to(>k Mr. j)iimph)'s (nvn pen- holder and persuasively emi)hasized the points ot his s[)ee( h upon Mr. Dumphy's arm with the blunt end. "Blank me, sir, when I say retained by the other side, blank it, it doesn't keep me, blank me, from doing the honorable thing with the defendant- from rec<'gnizing a gentleman, and trying to settle this matter as between gentlemen.' " But what's all this about? Who is your plaintiff. ■*' roared l)um])hy, forgetting him.self in his rage. " Ged, sir, it's a woman, of course. Don't think I'm accus" rng you of any political ambition. Ha! ha! No, sir. You're like me ! it's woman, lovely woman — I saw it at a glance ! K ;1 • • ■ • / k . .•'■/-• ■ \ V<' ■'• • • ' \' I • f •I' ;" Ti;'!'; T !. ''!■■ Vi. * 250 GAHRIFI. CONROV. (icntlcman like yon'ond nie, blank il, don't t;o tlii()ni;h to titfv years without L;iviii^ some lhoiiL;Iu to these »lear little t reaturt ^ Tslank me, sir, I (les|)ise a man who did. Its the weakness ol a great man, sir." Air. I )umi)hy pushed his chair l)a(k with the i;rim delibera- tion of a man who had at last measured the strenj^lh ot his adversary, and was satisfied to risk an iin ounter. " Look here, Colonel Slarl)ottle, 1 don't know or care wlio yom* plaintiff is. I don't know or (are how she may have been deceived, or wronged, or disaj)pointed, or bamboozled, or wh.i. is the ])arti AN I N h \I'M I l,l> V| llOR, 253 "At ten f)'cli»ck I sli.ill w.iit dn you at tin- hill in'.ir the Hig Tine! ^^lU -iuill ,1,'ivt' iiu' an inli rvii.u- if ynu know youi.-.fll well. 1 viy hcwarc I I run strong, fi>r I am injutfl ! Vl»l(»K." Mrs. Conroy folded the nolc a^jain. still sniilling, and iJiicocl it carcTully in her jxx ket. 'I'hen slio sat jKUienl, her hands ( laspcd lightly between her knees, the parasol open at her feet the very picture of a fond eonfiding tryst. Then she sud- denly drew her feet under her sidewise with a ([uic k, nervous motion, and examined the ground carerully with sincere dis- trust of all artful lurking vermin who lie in wait for helpless womanhood. 'I'hen she looked at her watch. It was five minutes past the hour. 'Jhere was no sound in the dim, slumbrous wood, but the far-off sleepy ( aw of a rook. A scjuirrel ran imi)ulsively halfway down the bark of the near- est i»ine, and catching sight of her lilted i)arasol, suddenly flattened himself against the bark, with outstretched limbs, a pic ture of abject terror. A bounding hare lame U|)on it sud denly and had a palpitation of the heart that he thought he really never should get over. And then there was a slow crackling in the underbrusii as of a masculine tread, anil Mrs. Conroy, picking up her terrible parasol, shaded the cold fires of h-:ir gray eyes with it, and sat (aim and expectant. A figure ( ame slowly and listlessly up the hill. When within a do/en yards of her, she saw it was not Victor. Hut when it api)roached nearer she suddenly started to her feet with pallitl clieeks and an exclamation ui)on her lips. It was. the Si)anish translator of Pacific street. She would have fiown, but on the instant he turned pjid recognized her with a cry, a start, and a tremor equal to her own. For a moment they stood glaring at each other, l)reatliless but silent ! '' Devarges ! " said Mrs. Conroy in a voi( c that was scarcclv audible. " (iood God ! " The stranger uttered a bitter laugh. " Ves ! Devarges ! -the man who ran away with you — - Devarges the traitor I l)evarges the betrayer of your husbaml. l,ookatme! You know me Henry Devarges! Your hus- Inrnd's brother! — your old accomplice your lover— your dapel" '*. k • i . . J^r 254 (;AnKIKI, CONUOY. .« y ♦ i' ■>}'r :,,* ttf •f' ■1. " Mush," sill- s;n(l iinplorin^My, K^-incin^' around through the dim woods, "for (lod's sake, hush !" "And who are you?" he went on without heeding her; " whi( li of tlie Mesdanies Devarges is it now? Or liave you taken the name of the y»)ung sj^rig of an officer for whom you deserted me, and may be in turn married ? Or did he refuse you even that ex( use for your perfidy? Or is it the wife and a('com|)li(:e of this feel)le minded ("onroy? ^Vhat name shall 1 call you? Tell me <|uick ! Oh, I have much to s;»\, hut 1 wish to he ])olite, madame ; tell me to whom 1 am to speak !" Despite the evident reality of his ))assion and fury there was something so unreal and grotescjue in his a])i)earance — in his anli(|ue foj)pery, in his dyed hair, in his false teeth, in his padded coat, in his thin stra|)])ed legs, that this relentless woman c<:tvered before him in very shame, not of her crime, but of her acc()m])lice ! " I lush," she said, " call me your friend ; I am always your friend, Henry ! Call me anything, but let me go from here. Jn (lod's name, do you hear? not so loud ! Another time and another place I will listen," and she drew slowly back, until, scarce knowing what he did, she had led him away from the l)lace of rendezvous toward the ruined cabin. Here she felt she was at least safe from the interruption of Victor. " How came you here? how did you find what had become of me? where have you been these long years?" she asked hastily. Within the last few moments she had regained i)artially the strange power that she had always exerted over all men except (iabriel Conroy. The stranger hesitated and then answered in a voice that had more of hopelessness than bitterness in its quality. " 1 came here six years ago, a broken, ruined and disgraced man, I had no ambition but to hide myself from all who had known me,— from that brother whose wife I had stolen, and whose home I had broken up —from you -you, Jidie ! — you and your last lover — from the recollection of your double treachery ! " He had raised his voice here, but was checked l)y the unflinching eye and cautionary gesture of the woman before him. " When you abandoned me in St. Louis, I had no choice but di ,ith or a second exile. I ect me. 'IVaitor as I was in a larger trust, no one doubted inv honor or dared to approach my integrity. Hut bah! what is this to you ? Vou ?" He would have turned from her again in very bitterness, but in the act he caught her eve, and saw in it, if not sympathy, at least a certain critical admiration, that again brought him to her feet. l*'or despi< able as this woman was, she was pleased at this j)ride in the man she had betrayed, was gratified at the sentiment that lifted him above his dyed hair and his pitiable lbj)pery, and felt a ( erlain honorable satisfac tion in th^ fac t, that even alter the lapse of years, he had proved true to her own intuitions of him. '* 1 had bi'en growing out of my despair, Julie," he went on sadly, " I was. or believed 1 was, forgetting n»y lault, forgetting even yi>// when there came to me the news of my brother's death l)y starvation. Listen to me, Julie ! One day there NK()V, . » .• < lie >•■■■■* ^ t, .'. :H III' Fl l/^ silence en\vrn;;])c(l the two solitary actors ; they might haw l)een the lirst man and liie tast vvjoniaii, so encompassed were tliey oy nature and sohtucle. , 'No," she went on hurriedly in a lower tone, ''".was the same old story — -the story of that girl at Basle— the story ot deceit and treachery which brought us first together, which made you. Henry, my friend, which turned our sympathies into a Tiiore dangerous ])assion ! Vou have suffered. Ah, well, so have I. We are equal now." Henry Devarges looked speechlessly upon his companion. Her voice trembled, there were tears in her eyes, that had replaced the burning light of womanly indignation. He had c{>me there knowing her to have been doubly treacherous to her husband and himself She had not denied it. He had come there to tax her with an infamous imposture, but had found himself within the last minute glowing with sym]>athi( condemnation of his own brother, and ready to accept soJm- ye. unoffered and perfeH:tly explicable theory of that imposture. More than that, he had began to feel that his own wrongs were slight in comj)arison with the injuries received by this superior woman. The woman who endeavors to justify herself to her jealous lover always has a ])owerful ally in his own self-love, and Devarges was (piite willing to believe that even if he had lost her love lie had never at least been deceived. And the answer to the morality of this imposture was before hiiu. Mere was .she married to the surviving brother of the girl she hi.d personated. Had he — had Dr. Devarges ever exhibited as noble trust, as ]K'rfect apj)reciation of her nature and her sufferings? Had they not thrown away the p'iceless ])earl ot this woman's love, through ignorance and selfishness ? You and I, my dear sir, who arc not in love with this most rei)rehensible creature, wili be (juick to see the Hn])erfect logic of Henry Devarges; but when a man constitutes himsell accuser, judge, and jury ^f the woman he loves, he is very apt to believe he is giving a verdi(^t when he is only entering a nolle prosttjui. It is i)robal)le that Mrs. C'onroy had noticed- this weakness in her companion, even with her i)re()(cupied fe^rs of the ino])porlunc aj)j)earancc of Victor, whom she felt she could have accounted for mucli better in his absence. Victci \v , MRS. CONKDV HAS AN INKXrWIKI) MSIIOR. tr^r LT)* was an impulsive pt.Tson, and there are times when this ([iKility, generally adored by a selt-restrained sex, is ajjl to be con- founding. "Why did you come here to see me?" asked Mrs. C'onroy. with a dantjjerous smile. " Onlv to abuse me? '' *' There is another grant in existence for the same land that you claim as (irace Conroy or Mrs. Conroy," returned Devarges, with masculine liluntness — "a grant given ])rior to that made to my brother Paul. A susi)icion that some imposture has been practiced is entertained by the party holding ihc grant, and I liave been re(piestcd to get at the facts." Mrs. Conroy's gray eyes lighten*, a. " And how were these suspicions aroused?" " By an anonymous letter." " And you have seen it ? " " Yes — both it and the hand-writing in jiortions of the grant are identical." " And you know the hand ? " "1 do— it is that of a man, now here, an old (.'alitornian Victor Ramirez ! " He fixed his eyes upon her; unabashed she turned her (»wn clear glance on his, and asked with a daz/ling smile, '' But does not your client know that whether the grant is a forgery oi not, iriy husband's title is good ? ' " Ves, but the svm])athies of my client, as y(ju call //tv, are interested in the orphan girl (irace." "Ah!" said Mrs, Conroy with the faintest possible sigh, "your client, for whom you have traveled — how many miles is a woman ? " Half-pleased, but half embarrassed, !)e\arges said, 'A'es." " I understand," said Mrs. Conrow slowly. " A young woman, ])erhaps, a good, a /•rctiy one ! And you iuive said, ' 1 will prove this Mrs. Conroy an inipost(••' «■ .t, , • ■ • 'r • ^-■i'^^A. "• > i' ■ *■ . ' 1^ n ■ >■ ,1' ■ i 258 GAIiRlF.r, CONROV. you have seen Julie Devarges, the impostor. Tell her to goon and press her claim, and that you will assist her. Finish the work that the anonymous letter writer has begun, and earn your absolution for your crime and my folly. Get your reward, you deserve it ; but tell her to thank (iod for having raised up to her better friends than Julie Devarges ever possessed in the heyday of her beauty ! Cio ! Farewell. No ! let me go, Henry Devarges, 1 am going to my husband. He at least has known how to forgive and protect a friendless and erring woman." Before the astonished man could recover his senses, elusive as a sunbeam, she had slipped through his fingers and was gone. For a moment only he followed the Hash of her white skirt through the dark aisles of the forest, and then the pillared trees, crowding in upon one another, hid her from view. ?erhai>s it was as well, for a moment later Victor Ramirez, flushed, wild-eyed, dishevelled and panting, stumbled blindly upon the nail, and blundered into Devarges' presence. The two men eyed t\ach other in silence. "A hot day for a walk," said Devarges, with an ill concealed sneer. *' Vengeance of God ! you are right — it is," relumed Victor, " and you ? " " Oh, I have been fighting flies ! Good day !" CII.APTFR XXXIV. GAHRIKL DISCARDS IflS HOMK AND WEALTH. T AM sorry to say that Mrs. Conroy ^ expression as she flctl was not entirely consistent with the grieved nnd heart-broken manner with which she just closed the interview with Henry Devarges. Something of a smile lurked about the corners of her thin lips as she tri|)])etl uj) the steps of her house, and stootl panting a litile with the e.veriion in the shadow of the tr-yx:^- .r' GAnRIEl. DISCARDS Ills HoMK AND WEALTH. 259 porrli. But here she suddenly found herself becoming faint' and, entering the apparently enij)ty house, passed at once to her boudoir, and threw herself exhaustively on the lounge with a certain peevish discontent at her physical weakness. No one had seen her enter ; the Chinese servants were congregated in the distant wash-house. Her housekeeper had taken advantage of her a])sence to ride t<^ the town. The unusual heat was felt to be an a]:)()logy for any domestic negligence. She was very thoughtful. The shock she had felt on first meeting Devarges was past; she was satisfied she still retained an influence over him suflicient to keep him her ally against Ramirez, whom she felt she had reason to fear. Hitherto his jealousy had only shown itself in vai)oring and bravado; she had been willing to believe him cai)al)le of offering her physical violence in his insane fury, and had not feared it ; but this deliberately plannetl treachery made her tremble. She would see l)eva\ges again ; she would recite the wrongs she had received frc-m the dead brother and husband, and in Henry's weak attempt to still his own conscience with that excuse, she could trust lo him to keep Ramirez in (heck, and withhold the exposure until she .md (labriel could get away. Once out of the country she could laugh at them both ; once away she could devote herself to win the love of (iabriel, without which she had begun to feel her life and schemes had been in vain. She would hurry their departure at once. Since the rei)ort had spread affecting the value of the mine. (Iabriel, believing it true, had vaguely felt it his duty to stand by his doubtful claim and accept its fortunes, and had delayed his j)rcparations. She would make Inn belie\e that it was Dumphy's wish that he should go at once ; she would make Dumphy write him to that effect. She smiled as she thought o( the power she had lately achieved over the fears of this financial magnate. She could do all this now — at once- but for her physical weakness. She liround her teeth as she thought of it ; that at such a time she should be ah ! — and yet a moment Liter a sudden fancy Hashed across her mind, and she closed her eyes that she mighi take in its delusive sweetness more completely. it might be that it wanted onlv this to toiu h his heart- some men were so strange — and if it were oh, (iod! sh^ stopjjed. k . 2«0 r.MiKIKI, CONkOV. 1 '.» t • «.' ', :'•*' .. t. ♦ ' • f ■ V t ■'• .■-A; What was that noise? The house had l)een very (juict, so still that she had heard a woo(l|)e( kcr ta|)j)in[j; on Us rt/of. lUu now she heard disLinetly the slow, heavy tr^ad of a man in one of the upper chambers, which had been used as a lumber room. Mrs. Conroy had none of the nervous a})])rehensi()n other sex in regard to probable ghosts or burglars — she had too mu< h of a man's practical jjre-occupation for that, yet she listened curi ously. It came again, 'i'here was no mistaking it now. It was the tread of the man with whom her thoughts had been busy — her husband. What was he doing here? In the few months of their mar- ried life he had never been home before at this hour. The lumber-room contained among other things the diyecta membra of his old mining life and exjjerience. He may have wanted something. There was an old bag which she remembered he said comained some of his mother's dresses. Vet it was so odd that he should go there now. Any other time but this. A terrible sujierstitious dread — a dread that any other time she would have laugh. d to scorn, began to creep over her. Hark! he was moving, She stojjped breathing. The tread recommenced. It passed into the up))er hall and came slowly down the stairs, each step recording itself in her heart-beats. It reached the lower hal! and seemed to hesitate; then it came slowly along toward her door, and again hesitated. Another moment of susj)ense and she felt she would have screamed. And then the door slowly oi)ened and (lal)riel stood before her. In one swift, intuitive, hopeless look she read her fate. He knew all ! And yet his eyes, except that they bore less of the usual i^erplexity and embarrassment with which they had habi tually met hers, though grave and sad, had neither indignation nor anger. He had changed his cloth ^s to a rough miner's blouse and trowsers, and carried in one hand a miner's j)ack. and in the other a ])ick and shovel. He laid them down slowl\ and deliberately, and seeing her eyes fixed upon them with a nervous intensity, began ai)ologetically : "They contain, ma'am, on'y a blanket and a few duds e/ 1 alius used to carry with me. I'll open it ef 'you say so. But (.MKIII I'l.-l \Klt;- Ills lldMI' \\l> \SI\IIH. 2SF n rVDTK TUF TMNF.S. 2HH should take licr in and dn l>v lur «.•/ I would, and Id nu' know. I'j may bo a lieaj) to ask. hut i( it taiii't too iniu h — I - shouldn't -like — ycr— to turn thct innocent inisusj)e(tin' «hile away from the house thet she nii^^ht take to be mine. \'e needn't let on anythin' thet's L,^one ; ye needn't tell her wot a tool I've been, but jest take her in and seixl for me. I-awyer Maxwell will ^nn ye my address."' 'I'hc sting recalled herbenumln-d life. She rose with a harsh (li.ssonant laugh and said, " \()ur wishes shall be tultilled — it" — she hesitated a moment " / am here."' But he did not hear the last sentence, and was gone. CH.xrrKR xxx\ WHAT PASSED UNDER THK I'INK AND WHAT REMAINED THERE, Ramikkz was not as ha|)i»y in his revenge as he anticipated. He had, in an instant of impulsive rage, fired his mine ])rema.- turely, and, as he feared, im])()tently. (iabriel had not visibly si(-kened, faded, nor fallen blighted under the exposure of his wife's deceit. It was even doubtful, as far as Ramirez could judge from his (|uiet recejition of the revelation, whether he would even (\all that wife to account for it. Again, Ramirez was unpleasantly conscious that this exposure had lost some of its dignity and im|)ortance by l^eing wrested from him as a ro?ift'ssio/i made under i)ressure or duress. Worse than all, he had lost the o[)[)ortunity of previously threatening Mrs. Conroy with the disdosure, and the delicious spectacle of her discomfi- ture. In ])oint (>f fact his revenge had been limited to the < autious cowardice of the anonymous letter-writer, who, slab- bing in the dark, enjoys neither the contemplation of the agonies of his victim, nor the assertion of his own individual I)Ower. 'lo this torturing reflection a terrible suspicion of the Si)anish translator, Terkins, was superadded. For (labriel, Ramirea 2»)4 GAHKIKr, (ON ROY. ^t • * • >s ■■^ **■ had only tliat ( cntcnipt which every lawless lover has for thr lawlul husband of his mistress, while for Perkins, he had di.it agoni/.ing doubt whirh every lawless lover has for every otlur man but the husband. In making this e\j)osure had he mti precipitated a catastrophe as fatal to himself as to the husbancp Might they not both drive this woman into the arms of another man ? Ramire/ paced the little ')edroom of the (Irand Conrov hotel, a prey to that b;> ^ard noi ;e of all natures like his own - ,iie t>ver»vheh:iCj cv ;.;-( iou .ne.s of opportunities for villainy misspent. Come what might, he wv lid si r oer again and at once. He would let her know that he susijecv^d her relations with this translator. Me would tell her that he had written the letter — that he had forged the grant- that — A tap at the door rec ailed him to himself. It oj)ened pre sently to Sal, coy, l)ashful, and ( onscious. The evident agita- tion of this young tbreigner had to Sal's matter-of-fact com{)re hension only one origin — a hopeless, consuniing passion for herself. " Dinner hez bin done gone an hour ago," said that an h virgin, '* but I put suthin' by for ye. Ye was inquirin' lasi night about them Conroys. I thought I'd tell ye thet (iabriel hez bin yer askin' arter Lawyer Maxwell- which he's off to Sacramento — altho' one o' Sue Markle's moi.t mtymate friends and steadiest bo.irders !" Hut Mr. Ramirez had no ear for (iabricl now. " Tell to nu. Mees Clark," he said, suddenly turning all his teeth on her, with gasping civility, *' where is the Seiior Perkins, eh ?" "Thet shiny < haj) — ez looks like a old turned al[)ackergownd 1 said Sal, " thet man ez [ can't abear," she continued, witii .1 delicate maidenly suggestion that Ramirez need fear no rivalry from that ijuarter. '* I don't mind and I don't keer to know. He hasn't bin yer since mornin'. I reckon he's up somewhat on Conroys Hill. All 1 know ez that he sent a mes.sage yer to git readv his Nolise to put aboard the Wingdam stage to-nighi. .!\re ycgoin' with him?" " No," said Ramirez, curtly. " Axin' yer pardon for the (jucstion, but seein' ez he'd gft booked for two places. I tho't ez maybe ye'd got tired o' plain WHAT I'ASSKl) UNDb.k IHI. TINES. 26C inountin folks and mounting ways, and waz guin' with him," and Sal .rcw an ai^h yet rr proachtul glance at Ramirez. " liooi jd for two seats," gasped Victor, "ah! for a lady, l)criiai)s- eh, Mees Clark? — for a lady? Sal 1)1' lied \stantly at what migh^- have seemed a suggestion of inij) ypriety on her part. "A lady, like his imjjerance, indeed ! I'd like to kii^w who'd demean theirselves by goin' with the like o' he ! But you're not startin' out agin witiiout your dinner, and it waitin' ye in the oven ? No? La ! Mr. Ra.nirez ye must be in love ! I've heard tell e/ it do take away the appetite ; not knowin' o' my own experense — though It's little hcz passeu my lips these two days, and only when tempted." Hut before Sal could complete her diagnosis, Mr, Ramir: /. ^^asped a few words of hasty excuse, seized his hat, and hurr a from the room. Leaving Sal a second time to mourn over the effect of :t ( (j(4uet ish playfulness upon the sensitive Italian nature, Vic.:>r Ramirez, toiling through the heat and fiery dust shaken from the wheels of incoming teams, once more brushed his way up the long ascent of Conroy's Hill, and did not stop until he reached its summit. Here he paused to collect his scattered thoughts, to decide upon some plan of action, to control the pulse of his beating temples, (juickened by excitement and the fatigue of the ascent, and to wipe the perspiration from his streaming face. He must see her at once, but how and where? To go boldly to her house would be to meet her in the presence uf Gabriel, and that was no longer an object ; besides, if she were with this stranger it would probably not be there. By haunting this nearest umbrage to the house he would pro- bably interce])t them on their way to the Gulch, or overhear any other conference. By lingering here he would avoid any interference from Gabriers cabin on the right, and yet be able to detect the approach of any one from the road. 'I'he spot that he had chosen was, singularly enough, in earlier days, Oabriel's favorite haunt for the indulgence of his noon-tide < ontemplation and pipe. A great pine, the largest of his fellows, towered in a little opening to the right, as if it had drawn apart for seclusion, and, obeying some mysterious at- i . ,k 2fir> flAr.kll 1- CoNROY. .' ' I traction, Victor went tttward it and seated himself on ;in abutting root at its base. Here a singular < ir( uuistancc oi curred, wliich at first filled liini witli sui)erslitious Tear. Tin handkerchief with whicli he had wiped his face — nay, his voa shirt-front itself suddenly appeared as if covered with blooil. A moment later he saw that the ensanguined hue was only due u> the red dust through which he had i)lunged, blending with the ])erspir;ition, that on the least exerti(jn still started from every pore of his burning skin. I'he sun was slowly sinking. The long shadow of Reservoir Ridge fell upon Conroy's Hill and seemed to cut down the tall j)ine that a moment before had risen redly in the sunlight, 'i'he sounds of human labor slowly died out of the (iulch below, the far-off whistle of teamsters in the Wingdam road began to fail. One by one the red openings on the wooded hill-side opi)osite went out, as if Nature were putting up the shutters for the day. With the gathering twilight Ramirez became more intensely alert and watchful. Treading stealthily around the lone pine-tree with shining eyes and gleaming teeth, he might have been mistaken for some hesitating animal wailing for that boldness which should come with the coming night. Suddenly he stopped, and leaning forward peered into the increasing shadow. Coming up the trail from the town was a woman. Even at that distance, and by that uncertain light, Ramirez recognized the flapping hat and ungainly stride. It was Sal - perdition ! Might the devil fly away with her ! But she turned to the right with the trail that wound toward Gabriel's hut and the cottage beyond, and Victor breathed, or rather i)ante(l, more freely. And then a voice at his very side thrilled him to his smallest fiber, and he turned quickly. It was Mrs. Conroy, white, erect, and truculent. '* What are you doing here?" she said, with a sharp, quirk utterance. ** Hush !" said Ramirez, trembling with the passion called up by the figure before him. " Hush ! There is one who has just come up the trail." " What do I care who hears me now ? You have made caution unnecessary," she responded sharply. " All the world WHAT PASSKI) t'NUKR THF PINKS. 2fi7 .■ • icif (>n an iiistaiK e ()• fear. Tin ay, his very with 1)1<)0(1. (jiily duo III int; with the [ Worn every if Reservoir lown tile tall he sunlij^lu. iulch below, )ad began to ded hill-side I shutters for etame more around the th, he might iLing for that Suddenly le increasing IS a woman, ht, Ramirez It was Sal - It she turned iel's hut and her j)anted, Irilled him to rs. Conroy, sharp, quick Ion called up |who has just have made l11 the world knows us now! and so I ask you again, what are iv//' doing hftt ?•' He would have approached her nearer, but she drew Iku k, t\vil< hing her long white skirl behinil her with a single (|uit k fenunine motion of her hand as if to save it from conlannnation. Victor laughed uneasily. " Vou have come to keej) your ap- pointment; it is not my fault if I am late." "1 have come here because, for the last half hour 1 have \v;\t(hcd you from my veranda, coursing in and out among the trct-s like a hound as you are ! I have come to whij) you off my land as 1 would a hound. But I have first a word or two to say to you as the man you have assumed to be." Standing there with the sunset glow over her erect, graceful figure, in the pink flush of her cheek, in the cold fnes of her eves, in all the thousand nameless magnetisms of her presence, there wa.s so much of her old ]){)wer over this slave of i)assion, that the scorn of her words touched him only to inflame him, and he would have groveled at her feet < ould he have touched the thin three fingers that she warningly waved at him. "You wrong me, Julie, by the (lod of Heaven. I was wild, mad, this morning- you understand ; for when I came to you I femnd you with another I I had reason, Mother of (lod !— I had reason for my madness, reason L;,nough, but 1 came in i)eace, Julie, I came in peace !" "in peace," returned Mrs. Conroy scornfully; "your note was a peaceful one, indeed I " " .\h ! but I knew not how else to make you hear me. I had news — news you understand, news that might save you, for 1 came from the woman who holds the grant. .'\h ! you will listen, will you not r* For one moment only, Julie, hear me and I am gone !" Mrs. ('onroy, with abstracted gaze, leaned against the tree, "do on," she said coldly. "Ah you will listen, then I" said Victor joyfully, " and when you have listened you shall understand ! Well, first I have the fact that the lawyer for this woman is the man who deserted the Grace Conroy in the mountains, the man who was called Philip .^shley, but whose real name is Poinsett." \ ' t. \-' ^ . • ■■ .1 208 GAHRIKI, CON ROY. :|,i f '* Who (lid yoti say ?" said Mrs. C'onioy, sndflciily stcpitiii j from the tree, and fixing a pair of < riiel eyes on Ramirez. *' Arli)ur Poinsett an e.\-soIdier, an otiiccr. Ah, you do ikiI beheve I swear it is so ;" "What has this to do with nic?" she said seornfully, resuming her j)osition l^'side the jiine. '" (io on or is this all?" "No, but it is much. Look you I lie is tlie affianced of a rich widow in the Southern Country, you understand? No one- knows his i)ast. Ah, you begin to comprehend. He does not dare to seek out the real (irace Conrov. Jle shall not dare U) l)ress the claim of his < lieni. Consequently he d(jes nothing!" "Is this all your news?" " All ! — ah no. There is one more, but I dare not speak it here," he said, glancing craftily around through th«.' sloulv darkening wood. " 'I'hen it must remain untold,'' returned Mrs. Cc^nroy, coldly, " for this is our last and only interview." " But Julie I— " *' Have you done ?" she continued, in the same tone. Whether her indifferenc e was assumed or not, it was effective. Ramirez glanced again quit kly around, and then said, sulkily : " C'ome nearer and 1 will tell you. Ah, you doubt -you doubt ? lie it so." Jiut seeing that she did not move, he drew toward the tree and whispered, " Bend here your head — I will whisper it." Mrs. Conroy, evading his outstretched hand, bent her head. ]le whis])ered a few words in her ear that were inaudible a fnot from the tree. " Did you tell this to him— KR IIIF. I'INFS. LMjy "Then listen, Victor Ramirc/," she said, swiftly ste|)i)ing from the tree int(» t^ie path httore him, and faring him with a white and rigid face. " Whatever was your purjiose in roming here, it has been successful ! Vou have done all that you intrnded, and more ! The man whose mind you ramc to |H)i>on, the man vou wished to turn against me, is gone ! has left me —left me never to r»'tutn! Ife never lovefl me! Your cx[)osure of me was to Www a godsend, for it gave him an ex- cuse for the insults he has heaped upon me, for the treachery ho has always hidden in his bosom 1" Kven in the darkness she could see the self < ()mi)la« ent flash of Victor's teeth, could hear the (|ui( k, hurried sound of his breath as he bent his head toward her, and knew that he was eagerly reaching out his hand for hers. Me would have caught her gesturing hand and covered it with kisses but that, divining his intention, without flinching from her position, she whipped both her hands behind her. " Well, you are satisfied ! You have had your say and your way. NonV I shall have mine. Do you suppose J came here tonight to congratulate you? No, I < anie here to tell you that, insulted, outraged, and spurned as I have been by my husband, (Gabriel Conroy — cast-off and degraded as I stand here to-night — / /o7'e him ! Love him as I never loved any man before ; love him as I never shall love any man again ; love him as I hate you ! Love him so that I shall follow him wherever he goes, if I have to drag myself after him on my knees. His hatred is more precious to me than your love. Do you hear me, V^ictor Ramirez? That is what /came here to tell you ! More than that — listen ! The secret you have whispered to me just now, whether true or false, I shall take to him. / will helj) him to find his sister. I will make him love me yet if I saci. ice you, everybody, my own life to do it ! Do you hear thai ? Victor Ramirez, you dog ! you Spanish mongrel ! you hal*" breed bastard ! Oh, grit your teeth there in the darkness ; i know you. (irit your teeth as you did to-day when Gabriel held you s(|uirming under his thumb ! It was a fine sight, Victor, worthy of the manly secre- tary who stole a dying girl's papers ! worthy of the valiant sol- dier who abandoned his garrison to a Yankee peddler and his i . o 70 GABRIEL CONROV. .♦ t ' * , mule. Oh, I know you, sir, and have known you from the first day I made you my tool — my dupe '. Go on, sir, go on ; draw your knife, do ! I am not afraid, coward ! 1 shall not scream, I promise you ! Come on !" With an insane, inarticulate gasj) of rage and shame, ho sprang toward her with an uplifted knife. But at the same in- stant she saw a hand reach from the darkness and fall swiftly on his shoulder, saw hin) turn and with an oath struggle furiously in the arms of Devarges, and, without waiting lo thank her deliverer, or learn the result of his interference, darted by tlic struggling pair and lied. Possessed only by a single idea, she ran swiftly to her home. Here she penc iled a few hurried lines, and called one of her Chmese servants to her side. " Take this, Ah Ri, and give it to Mr. Conroy. Vou will find him at Lawyer Maxwell's, or if not there iie will tell where he has gone, liut you must find him. If he has left town already you must follow him. Find him within an hour and I'll double that" — she j^laced a gold piece in his hand. " Go, at once." However liniited might have been Ah Ri's knowledge of the English language, there was an elo^iuence in the woman's man- ner that needed no translation. He nodded his head intelH- gentiy, said " Me shabbe you — muchee quick," caused the gold piece and the letter to instantly vanish up his sleeve, and started from the house in a brisk trut. Nor did he allow any incidental diversion to interfere with the business in hand. 'The noise of struggling in the underbrush on Conroy 's Hill, and a cry for helj), only extracted from Ah Ri the response, " Vou nuK hee go-to-hellee -no foolee me ! " as he trotted unconcernedly by. In half an hour he had reached Lawyer Maxwell's office. I'-ut the news was not favorable. Gabriel had left an hour before, they knew not where. Ah Ri hesitated a moment, and then ran quickly down the hill to where a gang of his fellow-a^im- trymen were working in a ditch at the roadside. Ah Ri paused, and uttered in a high recitative a series of the most extraordi nary ejaculations, utterly unintelligible to the few Americans whc' chanced to be working near. But the effect was magical; in an instant pick and shovel were laid aside, and before liie astonished miners could comprehend it, tho entire gan^ o' WHAT PASSED UNDER HIE IMNKS. 271 from the first go on ; draw II not scream, d shame, ho the same in fall swiftly on ij;gle furiously lo thank her darted by the to her home. \ one of her and give it to ell's, or if not lUSt find him. 1. Find him igold piece in wledge of the ,voman's man- ; head intelli- used the gold e, and started any incidental 'The noise of md a cry tor You mut he'e incernedly by, s office, i'ut hour before, cnt, and then s fellow-aMm ih Ri paused. lost extraordi- w Ameriians was magical ; id before the itire gang o' Chinamen had dispersed, and in aiiother instant were scattered over the several trails leading out of One Horse Gulch, except one. 'i'hat hall know it, for I shall not '^nler that house again, and leave here to-night forever. I do not ask you \n come for the sake of your wife, but for the sake of the woman :ilie once personated. You will come becau.se you love Grace, not because you care for There was but one fact that Gabriel clearly gras[)ed in this letter. That was that it referred to some news of Grace. 'I'hat was enough. He put away his pipe, rose, shouldered his pack and pick and deliberately retraced his steps. When he reached the town, with the shame-facedness of a man who had just ti^ken leave o{ it forever, he avoided the main thototigh- fare, but did this so clumsily and incautiously, after his simple fashion, that two or three of the tunnel-men noticed him ascending the hill by an inconvenient and seldom used by- jiath. He did not stay long, for in a short time- some said ten. others said fifteen minutes — he was seen again, descending rai)idly and recklessly, and crossing the Gulch, disa^jpeared in ihe bushes at the base of Bald Mountain. ■.«, >79 GAnRIKI, CONROV. With the going down of the sun that night the temperature fcll also, and the fierce, dry, desert heat that had filled the land for the past few days fled away before a strong wind which rose with the coldly rising moon, that during the rest of the night rode calmly over the twisting tops of writhing pines on Conroy's Hill, over the rattling windows of the town, and over the beaten dust of mountain roads. But even with the night the wind passed too, and the sun arose the next morning upon a hushed and silent landscape. It touched, according lo its habit, first the tall top of the giant pine on Conroy's Hill, and then slid softly down its shaft until it reached the ground. And there it found Victor Ramirez, with a knife thrust through his heart, lying dead ! r 1," ■» . . I ;■■ •» CHAPTER XXXVI. •t' ; MR. HAMI.IN S RKCREATION, CONTINUED. When Donna Dolores, after the departure of Mrs. Sepulvida. missed the figure of Mr. Jack Hamlin from the plain before her window, she i)resumed he had followed tliat lady, and would have been surprised to have known that he w'as at that moment within her castle, drinking as^uardiefife with no less a })ersonage than the solemn Don Juan Salvatierra. In point of fact, with that easy audacity which distinguished him, Jack had penetrated the court-yard, gained the hospitality of Don Juan without even revealing his name and profession to that usually ceremonious gentleman, and afler holding him in delicious fascination for two hours had actually left him lamentably intoxicated, and utterly oblivious of the character of his guest. Why Jack did not follow up his advantage by seeking an interview with the mysterious Senora who had touched him so deeply I cannot say, nor could he himself afterward determine, A sudden bashfulness and timidity which he had ii'ver before experienced in his relations with the sex, tied his own torgut MR. HAMLIN'S KK.rRI' AlloX, roMINrF.n. L'TIJ while Don Juan, with the garriUity whicli inebriety gave to his, poured forth the gossip of the Mission and the household. it is possible also that a certain vague hopelessness, etpially novel to Jack, sent iiim away in lower spirits th;in he (anie. It is remarkable that Donna Dolores knew nothing of the visit of this guest, until three days afterward, for iluring that time she was indisposed and did iiot leave her room, but it 7tv/.v remarkable that on learning it she flew into a [)ar()xysm of indignation and rage that alarmed Don Juan and frightened her attendants, "And why was / not told of the j)resence of this strange Americano ? Am J a child, holy St. Anthony ! that 1 am to be kept in ignorance of my duty as the iiostcss of the lUessed Trinity; or are you, Don Juan, my duenna? A brave cahallero — who — I surmise from your descripticMi, is the same that protected me from insult at Mass last Sunday, and he is not to 'kiss my hand'? Mother of God ! And his name you have forgotten ? " In vain Don Juan protested that the strange cahallero had not recjuested an audience, and that a proper maidenly sj)irit would have prevented the l5onna from ai)p€aring, unsought, " Better that I should have been thought 'forward — and Amencanos are of a different habitude, my uncle — than that the Blessed Trinity should have been misrc])resented by the guzzling of ai:!;uardienle!''' Howbeit, Mr. Hamlin had not found the climate of San Antonio conducive to that strict lepose that his ))hysician had recommended, and left it the next day with an accession of feverish energy that was new to him. He had idled away three (lays of excessi'v^ heat at Sacramento, nnd on the fourth had tlown to the mountains, and found himself on the morning of the first cool day at Wingdam, "Anybody here I know?" he demnnded of his faithful henchman, as Pete brought in his clothes, freshly brushed for the morning toilette. " No, sah ! " ■ "Nor want to, eh?" continued the cyui 4 . ■ ■ ,11 274 GAHRIKF, CONKOY. .« ■•'■■?. • - !• ^ dem folks as is goin' round ins])ectin' de country — down in de ))arlor. Jess come over from de 15ig 'I'rees I reckon dey's some o'de same j^arty --dem Frisco chaps — Mass Dumphyand dc odders has l)in onloadin' to. Dey's mighty green, and de bovs along de road has been fillin' 'em up. It's jess so much water on de dried api)les dat Pete I)umi)hy's been shovin' into 'em." Jack smiled grimly. " I reckon you needn't bring up my breakfast, Pete ; I'll go down." The i)arty thus obscurely referred to by Pete were Mr. and Mrs. Raynor, who had been '* doing " the Big Trees, under the intelligent guidance of a San Francisco editor who had been been de|)utized by Mr. Dumphy to rei)resent Californian h()si»itality. They were exceedingly surprised, during break fast, by the entrance of a pale, handsome, languid gentleman, accurately dressed, whose infinite neatness shamed their own bedraggled apjjearance, and who accompanied by his own servant, advanced, and quietly took a seat opposite the tourists and their guide. Mrs. Raynor at once became conscious of some negligence in her toilet, and after a moment's embarrass^ ment excused herself and withdrew. Mr, Raynor, impressed with the api)e5fran(X' of the stranger, telegraphed his curiosity by elbowing the editor, who, however, for some reason best known to himself, failed to respond. Possibly he recognized the presence of the notorious Mr. Jack Hamlin in the dark-eyed stranger, and may have had ample reasons for refraining from voicing the popular reputation of that gentleman before his face, or possibly he may have been inattentive, Howbeit, after Mr. Hamlin's entrance he pretermitted the hymn of ('alifornian praise, and became reticent and absorbed in his morning paper. Mr. Hamlin waited for the lady to rcrire, and then, calmly ignoring the presence of any other individuil, languidly drew from his pocket a revolver and bowie-knife, iuid placing them in an easy, habitual manner on either side of his plate, glanced carel<' ;>iy over the table, and then ( alleJ >^ele to his side, '* Tel' ihiiv',' snid Jack quietly, " that I want some lari^c potatoes; ;;•■!•: theia what they mean by putting those little thing's '.:n iVr Iible. Tell thci t9 be ([uick. Is your rifle loadv*') n MR. HAMF-INS RECKKATION, COMINUKU. "Yes, sah," said Pete promptly, without relaxing a muscle o( hfs serious ebony face. *' Well— take it along with you." But here the curiosity of Mr. Raynor, who had been just commenting on the really enormous si/.e of the ])otatoes, got the best of his prudence. Failing lo make his c()mj>ani<)n respond to his repeated elbowings, he leaned over the table toward the languid stranger. "Excuse me, sir,'' he said politely, "but did [understand you 10 say that you thought these potatoes s/zui//- \.ha.t there are really larger ones to be had?" " It's the first time," returned Jack gravely, "that I ever was insulted by having a 'u'hole j)otato brought to me. I didn't know it was ])ossible before. Perhaps in this part of the (ountry the vegetables are j)Ooi. I'm a stranger to this section. 1 take it you are too. liut because 1 ?ni a stranger I don't see why I should be imposed upon." " Ah, I see," said the mystified Raynor ; " but if I might ask another (question — you'll excuse me if I'm impertinent — 1 noticed that you just now advised your servant to take his gvin into the kitchen with him, — surely " — '* Pete, ' interrU|!ted Mr. Hamlin languidly, " is a good nigger. I shouldn't like to lose him ! I'erhaps you're right — may be I am a little over-cautious. But when a mar has lost two servants by gunshot wounds inside of three months, it makes him careful." The perfect unconcern of the speaker, the reticence of companion, and the dead silence of the room m whi( li extraordinary speech was uttered, filled the measure o! Ravnor's astonishment. " Bless my soul ! this is most extraordinary ! I have -jen nothing of this," he said appealing in dumb show ' his companion. Mr. Hamlin followed the direction of his eyes. "Your friend is a Californian, and knows what we think of any man who lies, and how most men resent such an imputation; and 1 reckon he'll endorse me ! " The editor muttered a hasty assent that seemed to cover Mr. Hamlin's various propositions, and then hurriedly witlhlt.nv, s IS r. . > 4 *t r ^■ i i 27(1 (lAURIKF, CONROV. alKindonin^' his clmrge to Mr. Unnilin. Whnt ndvnntnt^e Jack took oflliis situation, what extravagant ar( ounts he gravely offered of the vegetation in Lower (.'ahfornia, ol the resources of the country, of the reckless disregard of life and property, do not strictly belong to the record of this veracious chronicle. Notwithstanding all this Mr. Raynor found Mr. Hamlin an exceedingly fiiscinating (oiniianion, and later, when the editor had rejoined them, and Mr. Hamlin proceeded to beg that gentleman to warn Mr. Raynor against gambling, as the one seductive, besetting .sin of California, alleging that it had been the ruin of both the editor and himself, the tourist was so struck with the frankness and high moral principle of his new acquaintance, as to insist u|)on his making one of the party — an invitation that Mr. Hamlin might have acce])ted, but for the intervention of a singular occurence. During the conversation he had been curiously impressed bv the ai)[)earance of a stranger who had entered, and modestly and diffidently taken a seat near the door. To Mr. Hamlin this modesty and diffidence appeared so curiously at variance with his superb ])hysique, and the exceptional strength and power shown in every muscle of his body, that with his usual audacity he felt inclined to go forward and inquire, '* What was his little game?" That he was lying in wait to be ''picked up" — the reader must really excuse me if I continue to borrow Mr. Hamlin's expressive vernacular — that his diffidence and shyness were a deceit and intended to entraj) the unwary, he felt satisfied, and was proj)ortionately thrilled with a sense of admiration for him. That a rational human being who held such a hand should be content with a small ajiie, without "raising the other players" — but T beg the fiistidious reader's forgiveness. He was dressed in the ordinary miner's garb of the Southern mines, perha])s a little more cleanly than the average miner by reason of his taste, certainly more picturescjue by reason of his statuescjue sha})eliness. He wore a pan- of white duck trowsers, a jumi)er or loose blouse of the same material, with a low-folded sailor's collar and sailor-knotted neckerchief, which displayed, with an unconsciousness ([uitc characteristic of the uian; the full rnuscular column of his sun-burned throat, except MK. HAMI.IN's RKlkl ATION, ( ONI INUKH. 2T wliere it \v;is hidden l)v a full, tawny l)card. llis long sandy ( urls fell naturally and ci|ually on cither side of the center of Ills low. i)road forehead. His fair (■()ni])le\ion, althoujji i^reatly tanned hy e\|tosine, seemed to ha\e failed lately as l»\ sic kness 111 great mental distress, a theor\ that had some < onfirmation in the fact that he ate but little. His eyes were downcast, or, when raised, were so shv as U) avoid critical exaniination. Nevertheless, his mere su])erficial exterior was so striking as to attract the aihniration (jf others besides Mr. Hamlin : to exirig. Mr, Hamlin, who for the last few days had been in a rather exceptional mood, for some occult reason which he could not explain, felt like respecting the stranger's reserve, a* id ;uietly lounged into the billiard room to wait for the comw'^., of the stage-coach. As soon as his back was turned, the editor took occasion to offer iVlr. Ray nor his own estimate of Mr. Hamlin's character and re[)Utation, to correct his misstatements reganling Californian resources and social habits, and to restore Mr. Raynor's possibly shaken faith in California as a country especially adai)ted to the secure investment of capital. "As to the insecurity of life," said the editor, indignantly, " it is as safe here as in New York or IJoston. We admit that in tiie early days the country was cursed by too many adventurers of the ty])e of this very gambler Hamlin, but 1 will venture to say you will re([uire no better refutation of these calinnnies than this very miner whom you admired. He, sir, is a type of our mining population ; strong, manly, honest, unassuming, and perfectly gentle and retiring. We are i)routl, sir, we admit, of such men — eh? Oh, that's nothing — only the arrival of the iij) stage ! " It certainly was something more. A momentaril) increasing crowd of breatl?.less men. was gathered on the veranda bef(jre the window, and v/ere peering anxiously tner one another's heads toward a central grouj). among whi< h towered tlie tall figure of f^ ■pS- i , ■>%». ■' ^>.>^ > /. '>> /^ '^ 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation (\ t •SJ c\ \ ^N-^ #> <«*. 6^ %' 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.y. M580 (716) 872-4503 ^ '^.^iji <^ • , 4 . I ' ' ' T^' .•■• 282 GAHRIKI. CONROY. •> * > ■ • • « «•■ . :.»»-,.' ':./;:^.-. ■<■•: « » f V >• lievod that you had fooled her. I did, blast me ! There I if you confess to be a blasted fool, I do to having been an infernal h'ght bigger one." He stopj)ed, erased the mirthful past with his hand, and went on : " I began to suspect something when you came to me yesterday with this story of your going away, and this disposal of your jjroperty. When I heard of the murder of this stranger — one of your wife's witnesses to her claim near your house, your own flight, and the sudden disappearance of your wife, my suspicions were s^^^rengthened. And when I read this note from your wife, delivered to you last night by one of her servants and picked up early this morning near the body, my suspicions were confirmed." As he finished, he took from his ix)cket a folded paper and handed it to Gabriel. He received it mechanically, and opened it. It was his wife's note of the preceding night. He took out his knife, still holding the letter, and with its blade began stirring the bowl of his pipe. Then, after a pause, he asked, cautiously : "And how did v^ come by this yer?" " It was found by Sal Clark, brought to Mrs. Markle, and given to me. Its existence is known only to three people, and they are your friends." There was another pause, in which Gabriel deliberately stirred the contents of his pipe. Mr. Maxwell examined him c \riously. " Well," he said at last, "what is your defense ?" Gabriel sat up on the bed and rapped the bowl of his pipe against the bed-post to loosen some refractory incrustation. "Wot," he asked, gravely, "would be your idee of a good de-fensc ? Axin' ye ez a lawyer havin' experiens in them things, and reck'nin' to pay ez high ez enny man fo' the same, wot would yoit call a good defense?" and he gravely laid himself down again in an attitude of respectful attention. "We hope to prove," said Maxwell, really smiling, "that when you left your house, and came to my office, the murdered man was alive and at liis hotel ; that he went over to the hill long before you did ; that you did not return until eveniiig— MK. MAMLIN TAKES A HAND. 283 ! Th«rc : if en an internal lis hand, and came to me i this disposal ff this stranger ar your house, of your wife, read this note y one of her r the body, my ded paper and lly, and opened He took out s blade began luse, he asked, s. Markle, and •ee people, and [el deliberately examined him )wl of his pipe licrustation. idee of a good 1 in them things. I the same, Nvot ily laid himself smiling, " that I, the murdered lover to the liiH Intil evening— ajf( rihc murder was committed, as the 'secret ' meritioned in your wife's mysterious note evidently shows. That for some reason or other it was her design to i)lace you in a susj)icious attitude. That the note shows that she refers to some fact of which she was cognizant and not yourself." " Suthin' thet she knowed, and J didn't get to hear," trans- lated (iabriel quietly. " Exactly ! Now you see the importance of that note. Ciabriel did not immediately reply, but slowly lifted his huge frame from the bed, walked to the open window, still holding the paper in his hands, deliberately tore it into the minutest shreds before the lawyer could interfere and then threw it from the window. "Thet paper don't 'mount ter beans, no how!" he said quietly but explanatively, as he returned to the bed. It was Lawyer Maxwell's turn to become dumb. In his astonished abstraction he forgot to wipe his mouth, and garcd at Gabriel with his nervous smile as if his client had just perpetrated a practical joke of the first magnitude. " Kf it's the same to you, I'll just gin ye my idee of a de- fense," said Gabriel apologetically, relighting his pipe, "allowin' o' course thet you knows best, and askin' no deduckshun from your charges for advice. Well, you jess stands up afore the jedge, and you slings 'em a yarn suthin' like this : ' Yer's me, for instans,' you sez, sez you, ' ez gambols — gambols very deep —jess fights the tiger, wharever and whenever found, the same bein' unbeknownst ter folks gin'rally and spechil ter my wife, ez was, J uly. Yer's me bin gambolin' desprit with this yer man, Victyor Ramyirez, and gets lifted bad ! and we hez, so to speak, a differculty about some pints in the game. I allows one thing, he allows another, and this yer man gives me the lie and I stabs him!' — Stop — hole your bosses I" interjected Gabriel suddenly, " thet looks bad, don't it ? he bein' a small man, a little feller 'bout your size. No ! Well, this yer's the way we l)uts it up : Seving men— i'^'rvV/i,'' friends o' his comes at mo, permiskis like, one down, and next comes on, and we hcz it mighty lively thar fur an hour, until me, bein' in a tight i)lace, he/ to use a knife and cuts this yer man bad ! Thar, that's bout the tiling 1 Now as to my runnin' away, you s«/, .sez you, ■\ ' ♦•■■;. ^'V' ' ', <■« ■• ^ ] t . *. i • ' '': < r » i;.^ '■■K- j 4 284 CIAMRrKF- CONkOY. c/ 1k)U' I disrcmemhers owin' to the Vitement thet I hi-z a 'pintment in S.k ramcnto the very nex' day, and waltzes down yer to keep it, in a hurry. Kf they want to know whar July c/. you se/ she gits wild on my not coniin' home, and starts thet very night arter me. Thar, thet's 'bout my idee — j)uttin' it o' course in your own shape, and slingin' in them bits o' po'try and garbage, and kinder sassin' the plaintiffs counsel, ez you know goes down afore a jedge and jury." Maxwell rose hopelessly. "Then, if I understand you, you intend to admit — " "Thet I done it? In course!" replied Gabriel, " but," he added with a cunning twinkle in his eye, " justifybly— justifiMc homyside, ye mind ! bein' in fear o' my life from seving men. In course," he added hurriedly, "I can't identify them seving strangers in the dark, so thar's no harm or suspishion goin' to be done enny o' the boys in the Gulch." Maxwell walked gravely to the window, and stood looking out without speaking. Suddenly he turned upon Gabriel with a brighter face and more earnest manner. " Where's Oily ?" Gabriel's face fell. He hesitated a moment, " I was on iin wav to the school in Sacramento whar she iz.'' '• You must send for her ; I must see her at once !" Gabriel laid his powerful hand on the lawyer's shoulder; " She isn't, that chile, to know anythin' o' this. You hear?" he said, in a voice that began in tones of depreciation, and ended in a note of stern warning. " How are vou to keep it from her,?" said Maxwell, as determinedly. " In less than twenty-four hours every newsi)apLr in the State will have it, with their own version and comments. No, you must see her — she must hear it first from your own lips.»' " lUit— I — can't -see— her jest now," said Gabriel, witli a voice that for the first time during their inteAiew faltered in it^ accents. " Nor need you," responded the lawyer quickly. "Trust that to me. / will see her, and you shall afterward. You n^ ed not fear T will prejudice your case. Give me the address! Quick !" he odded, as the sound of footsteps and voices aj) :»■,■. MR. HAMLIN TAKES A HAND. " I was on mv proaching the room tame from the h.ill. (l.il)riel did as he rctiuested. "Now one word," he continued hurriedly, as the tuutiteps halted at the door. " Ves," said Gabriel. " As you value your life and OUy's hai)i)iness, hold your tongue." (labriel nodded with cunning comprehension. The door opened to Mr. Jack Hamlin, diabolically mischievous, self- confident, and audacious ! With a familiar nod to Maxwell he stepped quickly before Gabriel and extended his hand. Simply, yet conscious of obeying some vague magnetic influence, (iabriel reached out his own and took Jack's white, nervous fingers in his calm, massive grasj^ " Glad to see you, pard !" said that gentleman, showing his white teeth and reaching up to clap his disengaged hand on Clabriel's shoulder. "Glad to see you, old boy, even if you have cut in and taken a job out of my hands that I was rather lyin' by to do myself. Sooner or later I'd have fetched that Mexican, if you hadn't dropped into my seat and taken up my hand. Oh, it's all right. Mack!" he said, intercepting the quick look of caution that Maxwell darted at his client, " don't do that. We're all friends here. If you want me to testify I'll take my oath that there hasn't been a day this six months tiiat that infernal hound, Ramirez, wasn't just i)antin' to be planted in his tracks ! iJern me, gentleman, I can hardly believe 1 ain't done it myself." He stopped, partly to enjoy the ])alable uneasiness of Maxwell, and perhaps in some admiration of Clabriel's physique. Maxwell quickly seized the point of vantage. " Vou can do your friend, here, a very great service," he said to Jack, lowering his voice as he sj)oke. ja( k laughed. " No, Mack, it won't do ! They wouldn't believe me I There ain't judge or jury you could j)lay that on ! " " \'ou don't understancl me," said Maxwell, laughing a little awkwardly. '* I didn't mean that, Jack. This man was going to Sacramento to see his little sister — " '•(io on," said Jack with much gravity ; "of course he was ! 1 know that. ' Dear lirother, Dear Brother, come home with Hie now!' Certainly. .So'm I, Goin' to see an innocent little tiling 'bout seventeen years old, blue eyes antl cin^ly hair' 1 .* * . Z- ♦ . • j ■■». '(v;.» liivl?^ f^dV' k^ .»'. 280 GADRIF.L CONKOV, Always ^o ihoro onre a week. Says he must come ! Savs he'll " he stopi)ed in the full tide of his irony, for, lookinj,' U|), he caught a glimpse of (labriel's simple, troubled face and* his sadly reproa(:l>ful eyes. *' Look here," said Jack, turning savagely on Maxwell, "what are you talkin' about, anyway?" " 1 mean what I say," returned Maxwell (juickly. " He was going to see his sister, a mere child ! Of course he can't go now. But he must see her, if she can be brodght to him ' Can you — 7i'i7/ you do it?" Jack cast another swift glance at (xabriel. "('ount me in !" he said promptly ; " When shall 1 go?" " Now— at once !" " All right. Where shall I fetch her to ?" " One Horse Ckilch." "The game's made!" said Jack sententiously. " Shall be there by sun-down to-morrow ! " He was off iik( a flash, but as swiftly returned, and called Maxwell to the door. " Look here," he said in a whisper, "p'r'aps it would be as well if the Sheriff didn't know I was A/s friend," he went on, indicating Gabriel with a toss of his head and a wink of his black eye, " because you see, Joe Hall and 1 ain't friends ! We had a little difficulty, and some shootin' and foolishness down at Marysville last year. Joe's a good square man, but he ain't above prejudice, and it might go against our man." Maxwell nodded, and Jack once more darted off. But his color was so high, and his exaltation so excessive, that when he reached his room his faithful Pete looked at him in undisguised alarm. " Bress de Lord Ood ! it tain't no whisky, Mars Jack, arter all de doctors told you ? " he said, clasping his hands in dismay. The bare suggestion was enough for Jack in his present hilarious humor. He instantly hiccoughed, lapsed wildly over against Pete with artfully simulated alcoholic weakness, tumbled him on the floor, and grasping his white woolly head waved over it a boot-jack, and frantically demanded " another bottle." I'hen he laughed ; as suddenly got up With the greatest gravity and a complete change in his demeanor, and wanted to know. MR. HAMMN lAKKS A HANI). 287 1, and called ;t our man. severely, what he, Pete, meant by lying there on the floor in a state of beastly int<^xication. " Bress de Lord 1 Mars Jack, but ye did frighten me. I jiss allowed dem tourists down-stairs had been gettin' ye tight." '* Vou did — you degraded old ruftian ! If you'd been read- ing ' Volney's Ruins,' or reP.ectin' on some of those moral maxims that I'm just wastin' my time and health unloading to you, in.stead of making me the subject of your inebriated re- veries, you wouldn't get picked up so often. Pack my valise, and cnuck it into some horse and buggv, no matter whose. He fjuick." " Is we gwine to Sacramento, Mars Jack ? " " We ? No, sir. /';// going — alone ! What I'm doing now, sir, is only the result of calm reflection ; of lying awake nights taking points and jest spottin' the whole situati(4n. And I'm convinced, Peter, that I can stay with you no longer. You've been hackin' the keen edge of my fmer feelin's ; j)layin' it very low down on my moral and religious nature, and generally ringin' in a cold deck on my spiritual condition for the last five years. You've jest cut up thet rough with my higher emo- tions thet there ain't enough left to chip in on a ten-cent ante. Five years ago," continued Jack, coolly, brushing his curls be- fore the glass, " 1 fell into your hands, a guileless, simple youth, in the first flush of manhood, knowin' no points, easily pick^ up on my sensibilities, and trav'lin', so to speak, on my shape ! And where am I now? Echo answers * where?' and passes for a euchre ! No, Peter, I leave you to-night. Wretched misleader of youth, gummy old man with the strawberry eye- brows, farewell !" Evidently this style of exordium was no novelty to Pete, for without apparently paying the least attention to it, he went on, sudily packing his master's valise. When he had finished he looked uj) at Mr. Hamlin, who was humming, in a heart-broken way, " Yes, 7i'e must party' varied by occasional glances of exaggerated reproach at Pete, and said, as he shouldered his valise : " Dis yer ain't no woman foolishness, Mars Jack, like down at dat yar Mission?" "Your suggestion, Peter," returned Jack, with dignity, >ri ,. -*1 1. -V, *l .■ .^^\;. "v '•y>' s ■''.*■ r-.V , « *• \» < '■'■ : : '"} » • • • ■V'J i Ik ■^<' < ■ !»' 'fviv, K ^•■■1 f . t • • * '* '*' . ••] 'i-'.-^ •* 1 '* ■» \ ■ i * |.t:i' ;. ^:^'J:-.i'^ ■•i* • ■ I* ■ . fn.;«. f''^'> * ■• 288 (lAHklKL CONROV. " emanates from a moral sentiment debased by love feasts and canii) meetings, and an intellect weakened by rum and gum and the contact of lager beer jerkers. it is worthy of a short card sharp and a keno flojjper, which 1 have, I regret to sa\ . long suspected you to be. Farewell ! Vou will stay here until 1 come back. If 1 don't come back by the day after to ukm row come to One Horse (iulch. i\iy the bill and don't knoi k down for yourself more than seventy-five per cent. Kemeiii ber I am getting old and feeble. You are yet young, \jith ,i brilliant future before you. (iit !" He tossed a handful of gold on the bed, adjusted his hat carefully over his curls, and stole from the room. In the lower hall he stopped long enough to take aside Mr. Raynor, and with an ajjpearance of the greatest conscientiousness, to correct an error of two feet in the measurement he had given him that morning of an enormous pine tree, in whose prostrate trunk he, Mr. Hamlin, had once found a peaceful, happy tribe of one hundred Imlians living. Then lifting his hat with marked l)oliteness to Mrs. Raynor, and totally ignoring the presence of Mr. Raynor's mentor and companion, he leaped lightly into the buggy and drove away. " An entertaining fellow," said Mr. Raynor, glancing after the cloud of dust that flew from the untarrying wheels of Mr. Hamlin's chariot. " And so gentlemanly," smiled Mrs. Raynor. But the journalistic conservator of the public morals of Call fornia, in and for the city and county of San Francisco, looked grave, and deprecated even that feeble praise of the departed. " His class are a curse to the country. They hold the law in contempt ; they retard by the example of their extravagance the virtues of economy and thrift; they are consumers and not jiroducers ; they bring the fair fame of this land into question by those who foolishly take them for a type of the people." " Hut dear me," said Mrs. Raynor, pouting, "where your gamblers and bad men are so fascinating, and your honest miners are so dreadfully murderous, and kill people and then sit down to breakfast with you as if nothing had happened, what are you going to do ?" The journalist did not immediately reply. In the course of ■n..,., i-'^.^' nUMl'HV I AKKS T'OINSKTI INIO HIS CONKIDKNCfc:. 28(» some elociuent remarks, as uncxccptiunable in morality as in diction, whic li 1 regret I have no space to reproduce here, he, however, intimated tliat there was still an Unfettered Press, which " scintillated " and "shone " and "lashed " and " stung" and "cxi)osed" and "tore away the veil," and became at various times a I'alladium and a VVatch-tower, and did and was a great many other remarkable things peculiar to an Unfettered Press in a pioneer ( ommunity, when untrammeled by the ener- vating conditions of an effete civilization. " And what have they done with the murderer ? " asked Mr. Raynor, repressing a slight yawn. "Taken him back to One Horse (iulch half an hour ago. I reckon he'd as lief stayed here," said a bystander. " From the way things are pintin', it looks as if it might be putty lively for him up thar !" "What do you mean?" asked Raynor, curiously. ** Well, two or three of them old Vigilantes from Angel's passed yer a minit ago with their ritles, goin' up that way," re- turned the man, lazily. " Mayn't be nothin' in it, but it looks mighty like — " " Like what ? " asked Mr. Raynor, a little nervously. " Lynch in 1 " said the man. i- CHAPTER XXXVIIL lU WHICH MR. DUMPHY TAKES POINSKTT INTO HIS CONFIDENCE. e course of The cool weather of the morning following Mr. Dumphy's momentous interview with (Jol. Siarbottle, contributed some- what to restore the former gentleman's trancjuillity, which had been considerably disturbed. He had, moreover, a vague recollection of having invited Col. Starbottle to visit him socially, and a nervous dread of meeting this man, whose audacity was equal to his own, in the company of others, liraced, however, by the tonic of the clear exhilarating air, and f •,/• .4 '.« (••'.' '■ ;f'. V vm «« f'- ■ !•■'•' • ■■)". 290 fiAimiK.I, CONKOY. (( ((' sustained by the presence of his rierks and the respectful lioniage of his business associates, he dispatched a note to Arthur INjinsett, recjuesting an interview. Punctually at the hour named tliat gentleman presented himself, and was languidly surprised when Mr. Dumphy called his clerk and gave peremptory orders that their interview was not to be disturbed, and to refuse admittance to all other visitors. And then Mr. Dumphy, in a peremptory, practical statement which his business habits and temperament had brought to a perfection that Arthur could not help admiring, presented the details of his interview with Col. Starbottle. " Now, I want you to hel|) me. I've sent to you for that business purpose. You understand, this is not a matter for the l',ank's regular counsel. Now what do you propose ? " First, let me ask you, do you believe your wife is living?" No," said Dumphy promptly, "but of course I don't know." " Then let me relieve your mind at once, and tell you that she is not." " You know this to be a fact? " asked Dumphy. "I do. The body sup|)osed to be (irace Conroy's, and so identified, was your wife's. I recognized it at once, knowing Grace Conroy to have been absent at the culmination of the tragedy." " And why did you not correct the mistake ? " " That is my business," said Arthur, haughtily, " and I believe 1 have been invited here to attend to yours. Your wife is dead." Then," said Mr. Dumphy, rising with a brisk business air, "if you are willing to testify to that fact, I reckon there is nothing more to be done." Arthur did not rise but sat watching Mr. Dumphy with an unmoved face. After a moment Mr. Dumphy sat down again, and looked aggressively bui nervously at Arthur. " Well ? " he said, at last. " Is that all?" asked Aathur, quietly. "Are you willing to go on and establish the fact ? " " Don t know what you mean ! " said Dumphy, with an attempted frankness which failed signally. " One moment, Mr. Dumphy. You are a shrewd business ^■■. r)rMI'IIV I AKi;s POINSI I I' INK) fllS CONUDKNCK. 2in man. Now do you suppose tin* person whoovci ii" or she iiKiy be who has sent C'ol. Starbottle to you, rehes aloi e upon your inahihty to legally prove your wife's death? N' ay they not calculate somewhat on your ituiispimtion to prove t legally ; on the theory that you'd rather not open the case, for i stance?" Mr. Dumphy hesitated a moment, and bit his lip. "Of course," he said shortly, there'd be some talk among my enemies about my deserting my wife—" '* And child," suggested Arthur. "And child," repeated Dumphy. savagely, "and not coming back again — there'd be suthin' in them blasted pa|)ers al>out it, unless I paid 'em, but what's that ! — deserting one's wife isn't such a new tJiing in California." " lliat's sc," said Arthur with a sarcasm that was none the less sincere because ht: felt its applicability to himself. '* But we are not getting on," said Mr. i)umi)hy, impatiently. " What's to be done? That's what I've sent to you for." " Now that we know it is not your wife, we must find out who it is that stands back of Col. Starbottle. It is evidently some one who knows at least as much as we do of the facts ; we are lucky if they know no more. Can you think of any one? Who are the survivors? I.et's see; you, myself, jjossibly (Irace ! " " It couldn't be that infernal Grace Conroy, really alive ! " interrupted Dumphy, hastily. " No," said Arthur, quietly ; " you remember she was not l)resent at the time." "Gabriel?" " I hardly think so. Besides he is a friend of yours." " It couldn't be—" Dumphy stopped in his speech, with a certain savage alarm in his looks. Arthur noticed it, and quietly went on. "Who 'couldn't it' be?" " Nothing — nobody. I was only thinking if Gabriel (jr somebody could have told the story to some designing rascal." " Hardly — in sufficient detail." "Well," said Dumj^hy, with his coarse, bark-like laugh, "if I ve got to pay to see Mrs. Dumphy decently buried, 1 sui)pose * '. • '. OAMRIKI, CONKoY. ^ « '■»' I ; ■» n' h '^ I :,. mi ■■ il; . ^ ' - "Vf" I (an roly upon you to sec that it's done without a < hance ol resurrection. I'lnd out who Starbottle's friend is. and how much he or she expe( ts. If I've got to |)ay for this thing, I'll do it now. and gel the lienefit of absolute silence. So I'll leave it in your hands ; " and he again rose as if dismissing the suh je('t and his visitor, after his habitual business manner. "humphy," said Arliiur, still keeping his own seat, and ignoring ihc significance of Dumjjhy's manner, "there are two l)rofessions that suffer from a want of frankness in the nun who seek their services. Those professions are Medicine and Law. 1 can understand why a man seeks to deceive his j)hysician, because he is humbugging himself; but I can't see why he is not frank to his lawyer ! You are no exception to the rule. Vou are now concealing from me, whose aid you have sought, some very important reason why you wish to have this whole affair hidden beneath the snow of Starvation Camp." " Don't know what you are driving at," said Dumphy. But he sat down again. " Well, listen to me, and perhaps I can make my meaning clearer. My ac(|uaintance with the late Dr. Devarges began some months before we saw yoi', During our intimacy he often spoke to me of his scientific discoveries, in which I took some interest, and I remember seeing among his papers fre- quent records and descriptions of localities in the foot-hills, which he thought l)()re the indications of great mineral wealth. At that time the Doctor's theories and speculations appeared to me to be visionary, and the records of no value. Neverthe- less, when we were shut up in Starvation Camp, and it seemed doubtful if the Doctor would survive his discoveries, at his re quest 1 deposited his pajjers and specimens in a cairn at Monu- ment I'oint. After the catastrophe, on my return with the re- lief party to camp, we found that the cairn had been opened by some one, and the papers and spe< imens scattered on the snow. We sui)posed this to have been the work of Mrs. IJracketr, who, in search of food, had broken the cairn, taken out the spe(-imens, and died from the effects of the poison with which they had been preserved." He paused and looked at I )umphy, who did not si)eak. '• Now," continued Arthur, " like all Californians, I have fol- tti i DUMPIIV lAKKS I'OlNsKI i INK* MIS CONUDKNCK. lowed your vnrious successes with interest aiul wonder. I liave noticed, with the ^ratilu atioii tliat all your friends experience, the sinj^ular ^ood lorluiu- whic h has distinguished your mining enterprises, and the chiimsyou luive located. Hut i have been < ogni/ant of a fa< t, unknown, I think, to any other of your friends, that nearly all of the localities of your successful claims, by a singular ( oinc iden< e. agree with the memorandums of I>r Devarges ! " Dumphy sprang to his feet with a savage, brutal laugh. " So," he shouted, coarsely, "that's the game, is it ! Soil seems I'm mighty lucky in coming to you- no trouble in fmd iiig this liintnan now, hey ? Well, go on, tin's is gelling inter- esting; let's hear the rest ! What are your pro|K)sitions wh.it if 1 refuse, hey?" " My first proposition," said Arthur, rising to his feet with a ( old. wicked light in his grey eyes, "is, that you shall m^tanlly lake that s|)ec( h back, and beg my pardon I If you leluse, by the living (lod, I'll throttle you where you stand I" P'or one wild moment all the savage animal in Dumphy rose, and he instinctively made a stej) in the direc tion of I'oinsett. Arthur did not move. Then Mr. Dumphy's prai tical ( autic^n asserted itself. A physical jjersonal struggle with Arthur would bring in witnesses — witnesses, perhaps, of ^nmelhing more than that personal struggle. If he were vie torious, Arthur, unless killed outright, would revenge himself by an ex[)osure. 1 le sank back in the chair again. Had Arthur known the low estimate placed upon his honor by Mr. Dumphy, he would have been less comi)lacent in his victory. " 1 didn't mean to suspect jvv/," said Dumphy at last, with a forced smile. " I hoi)e you'll excuse me. I know you're my friend. But you're all wrong about these papers ; you are, I'oinsett, I swc^r. I know if the fact were known to outsiders, it would look (jueer if not explained. But whose business is it, anyway — legally, I mean ? " " No one's, unless Devarges has friends i)X heirs." "He hadn't any." " There's that wife ! " " Bah !— she was divorced ' ■'V ' ^ ' ' '. ^ 1": 20^ GAl'.RIi:h OONROY, ■ ••• % • 1 ■ ' ■ . .■:^ .< t S '• • I " Indeed ! You told me, on our last interview, that she really was the widow of Devarges." " Never mind that now," said Dumphy, impatiently. " Look here ! You know as well as 1 do that no matter how man\ discoveries Devarges made, they weren't worth a cent if he hadn't done some work on them — improved or opened them." *• Hut that is not the point at issue just now," said Arthur. " Nobody is going to contest your claim or sue you for damages. But they might try to convict you of a crime. They might say that breaking into the cairn was burglary, and the taking of the papers theft." '•' But how arc they going to prove that?" " No matter. Listen to me, and don't let us drift away from the main point. The question that concerns you is this : An impostor sets up a claim \.o ! e your wife ; you and I know she is an impostor, and can prove it. She knows that, but knows also that in attempting to prove it you lay yourself open to some grave charges which she doubtless stands ready to make." " Wei!, then, the first thing to do is to find out inho she is, what she knows, and what sh^. wants, eh?" said Dumphy. " No," said Arthur, quietly, '" the first thing to do is to prove that your wife is really dead; and to do that, you must show that Grace Conroy was alive when the body purporting to be hers, but which was really your wife's, was discovered. Once establish (hat fact, and you destroy the credibility of the Spanish reports, and you need not fear any revelation from that source iCgarding the missing papers. And that is the only source from which evidence against you can be procured. But when you destroy the validity of that report, you of course destroy the credibility of all concerned in making it. And as I was concerned in making it, of course it won't do for you to put nie on the stand." Notwithstanding Dumphy's disappointment, he could not help yielding to a sudden respect for the superior rascal who thus cleverly slipped out of responsibility. " But," added Arthur, coolly " you'll have no difficulty in establishing the fact of Grace's survival by others." Dumphy thought at once of Ramirez. Here was a man who had seen and conversed with Grace when she had, in the face DUMPHY TAKKS POINSETT INTO HIS CONFIDENCE. 21)5 of the Spanish Commander, indignantly asserted her identity and the falsity of the report. No witness could be more satisfactory and convincing. But to make use of him, he must first take Arthur into his confidence ; must first exi)ose the conspiracy of Madame Devarges to personate (Irace, and his own complicity with the transaction. He hesitated. Never- theless, he had been lately tortured by a suspicion that the late Madame Devarges was in some way connected with the later conspiracy against himself, and he longed to avail himself of Arthur's superior sagacity, and after a second reflection he concluded to do it. With the same practical conciseness of statement that he had used in relating Col. Starbottle's inter- view with himself, he told the story of Madame Devarges's brief personation of Grace Conroy, and its speedy and felicitous ending in Mrs. Conroy, Arthur listened with unmistakable interest and a slowly heightening color. When Dumphy had concluded he sat for a moment apparently lost in thought. "Well?" at last said Dumphy, interrogatively and impatiently. Arthur started. " Well," he said, rising and replacing his hat with the air of a man who had thoroughly exhausted his subject, "your frank- ness has saved me a world of trouble." " How ? " said Dumphy. " There is no necessity for looking any furthe. for your alleged wife. She exists at present as Mrs. Conroy, alias Madame Devarges, alias Grace Conroy. Ramirez is your witness. You couldn't have a more willing one." " Then my suspicions are correct." " I don't know on what you based them. But here is a woman who has unlimited power over men, particularly over one man, Gabriel ! — who alone of all men but ourselves, knows the facts regarding your desertion of your wife in Starvation Camp, her death, and the plat ing of Dr. Devari^es's private papers by me in the cairn. He knows, too, of your knowledge of the existence of the cairn, its locality, and contents. He knows this, because he was in the cabin that night when the Doctor gave me his dying injunctions regarding his [)roperty — the night that you — excuse me, Dumphy, l)Ut nothing but frankness will save us now — the night that you stood listening « . . r •I ,» ':i^^^' •■y .• < • • • If i' '» * -i ,1 ;■•■ . 296 GABRIEL CONROY. at the door and frightened Grace with your wolfish fare. Don't speak ! she told nie all abotit it ! Your presence there that night gained you the information you have used so profitably ; it was your presence that fixed her wavering resolves and sent her away with me." Both men had become very [)ale and earnest. Arthur moved toward klie door. " I will see you to-morrow when 1 will h^e matured some plan of defense," he said, ai)stractedly. "We have" — he used the plural of advocacy with a jieculiar significance — " 7C'e have a clever woman to fight, who may be more than our match. Meantime, remember that Ramirez is our defense ; he is our man, Dumphy, holdfast to him as you would your life. Good- day." In another moment he was gone. As the door closed upon him, a clerk entered hastily from the outer office. " You said not to disturb you, sir. and here is an important dispatch wait ing for you from Wingdam." Mr. Dumphy took it mechani- cally, opened it, read the first line, and then said hurriedly, " Run after that man quick ! Stop ! Wait a moment. You needn't go. There, that will do !" The clerk hurriedly withdrew into the outer office. Mr. Dum|)hy went back to his desk again, and once more devoured the following lines : " Wingdam, 7th, 6 a. m. — Victor Ramirez murdered last night on Conroy's Mill. Gabriel Conroy arrested. Mrs. Conroy missing. Gre.it excitement here ; strong feeling against Gabriel. Wait instructions.— Fitch." At first Mr. Dumphy only heard as an echo beating in his brain the i)arting words of Arthur Poinsett, " Ramirez is our defense ; hold fast to him as you would your life." And now he was dead — gone ; their only witness ; killed by Gabriel, the plotter! What more was wanted to justify his worst suspicions? What should they do ? He must send after Poinsett again ; the plan of defense must be changed at once ; to-morrow- might be too late. Stop ! One of his accusers in prison charged with a capital crime ! The other — the real murderer— for Dumphy made no doubt that Mrs. Conroy was responsible for the deed — a fugitive from IHMPMY lAKKS I'OlNSF.Tt' IM'IO HIS ( ONKIDKNCK. 2% face. Don't : there that profitably ; js and sent rthur moved itured some i" — he used — " 7iie have our match. ; he is our life. Good- closed upon *' You said spatch wait it mechani- id hurriedly, ment. You Dffice. Mr. )re devoured ast night on issing. Great instructions. — ating in his liiirez is our And now Gabriel, the suspicions? nsett again ; to-morrow pital crime ! le no doubt fugitive from ju'^tice ! What need of any witness now? 'I'iie blow tl^al (rip[)led these three conspirators had liberated him ! For a moment Mr. Dum[)hy was actually conscious of a paroxysm ot gratitude toward some iiulefinitely Supreme Being— a (iod ot special providence — special to himself! More than this, there was that vague sentiment, common, I fear, to common hinnan- ily in such crises, that this Providence was a tacit endorsement ofiiimself. It was the triumjjh of Virtue (Dumphy) over Vice (Conroy ef a/.) But there would be a trial, publicity, and the possible e\ posure of certain thiuL^s by a man whom danger miglu make reckless. And could he count ui)on Mrs. Conroy V, absence or neutrality ? He was conscious that her fueling for her husband was stronger than he had supposed, and she might dare every- thing to save him. What had a woman of that kind to do with such weakness? Why hadn't she managed it so as to kill (labriel too ? There was an evident want of practical com pleteness in this si)ecial providence, that as a business man Mr. Diimphy felt he could have regulated. And then he was seized with an idea — -a damnable inspiration I and set himself briskly to write. I regret to say that despite the popular belief in the dramatic character of all villainy, ^^r. Dumphy at this mo- ment presented only the commonplace spectacle of an ai)sorbed man of business ; no lurid light gleamed from his i)ale blue eyes; no Satanic smile played around the corners of his smoothly shaven moutii ; no feverish exclamation stirred his moist, cool lips. He wrote methodically and briskly without deliberation or undue haste. When he had written half a dozen letters he folded and sealed them, and, without summon iug his clerk, took them himself into the outer office and thence into the large counting-room. The news of the murder had evidently got abroad ; the clerks were congregated together, :md the sound of eager, interested voices ceased as the great man entered and stood among them. '* James, you and Judson will take the (|ui( kest route to One Horse Gulch to-night. Don't waste any time on the road or spare any expense. When you get there deliver these letters, and take your orders from my correspondents. Pick up all the details you can about this affair and let me know. What's u ^' W§'/'"' ?r*'. ,t ItW: I f ••. i!,''!- :il)8 GA URIEL (;uNkf)V. your l)alan('e at the (jukh, Mr. Peebles? — never miiul tne exact figures 1" " Larger than usual, sir, some heavy deposits I" " Increase your balance, then, if there should be any infer nal fools who connect the Hank with this matter." *' 1 suj)i)ose," said Mr. Kitch, res|)ectfully, " we're to K)()k after your foreman, Mr. Conroy, sir?" " Vou are to take your orders from my corresj)ondents, Mr. Fitch, and not to interfere in any way with public sentiment. We have nothing to do with the private acts of anybody. Justice will probably be done to Conioy. It is time that these outrages u^x))! the reputation of the California miner should be stopi)ed. When the fiime of a whole community is preju- diced and business injured by the rowdyism of a single ruffian," said Mr. l>umi)hy, raising h'\> voice slightly as he discovered the interested and absorbed presence of some of his most re- spectal)le c:ustomers, " It is time that i)romi)t action should be taken." In fact he would have left behind him a stronu Roman flavor and a general suggestion of Brutus, had he lun unfortunately effected an anti-climax by adding, " That's busi- ness, sir," as he retired to his private office. ■-• I ^f '*..- CHAPTER XXXIX. MR, HAMI.IN IS OFF WITH AN OLD LOVE, Mr. Jack H ami. in did not lose much time on the road from Wingdam to Sacramento. His rajjid driving, his dust bespattered vehicle, and the exhausted condition of his horse on arrival, excited but little comment from those who knew his habits, and for other criticism he had a supreme indifference, He was j)rudent enough, however, to leave his horse at a stable on the outskirts, and having reconstructed his toilet at a neighboring hotel, he walked briskly toward the address given him by Maxwell. When he reached the corner of the street 1 MK. IIAMMN IS OIK Ull H AN 01. 1) I.OVK. 2! HI rer minfl me and was williin a few |tn( cs of the massive shinin<,' door-plate of Mme. K( lair's Pensionntit, he stopped with a sudden ejacu- lation, and after a moment's hesitation, turned on his heel de- liber.itely and began to retrace his stei)S. 'To explain Mr. Hamlin's singular londuct. I shall he obliged to disclose a secret of his, which I would tain keej) from the fair reader. On receiving Olly's address from Maxwell, Mr. Hamlin had only cursorily glanced at it, and it was only on arriving before the house that he recognized to his horror that it was a bf)arding school, with one of whose impulsive inmates he had whiled awav his idleness a few months before in a heart-breaking but innocent flirtation, and a soul-subduing but clandestine correspondeni e, much to the distaste of the cor- rect I'rincipal. To have i)resented himself there in his proper person would to have been refused admittance or subjected to a siisi)icion that would have kept Oily from his hands. For ome, Mr. Hamlin severely regretted his infelix re]>utation among the sex. IJut he did not turn his bac k t)n his enter- [irise. He retraced his steps only to the main street, visited a l)ad)er's shop and a jeweler's, and reappeared on the street again with a pair of enormous green goggles and all trace j of his long distinguishing silken black musta( he shaven from his lip. When it is remembered that this rasial was somewhat vain of his personal appearance, the reader will ai)preciate his earnestness and the extent of his sacrifice. Nevertheless, he was a little nervous as he was u^'.hered into the t'ormal reception rooni of the Pcusioiniat, and waited until his credentials, countersigned by Maxwell, were submitted to Mine. Eclair. Mr. Hamlin had no fear of being detected by his real name ; in the brief halcvon days of his romance he had been known as Clarence Spifflington, — an ingenious com- t)iiiation of the sentimental and humorous which suited his iancy, and to some extent he felt expressed the chviracter of his affec tion. Fate was propitious ; the servant returned saying that Miss Conroy would be down in a moment, and Mr. Ham- lin looked at his watch. Kvery moment was precious ; he was beginning to get imi)atient when tlie door opened again and Oily slipped into the room. She was a pretty child, with .i piculiar bovish frankness of -.. I ■ 5: ■« .1 • :m\ GAimilt. CONU^fY. 1 ^ t • I li" fl ^:f*.lV. , i ••• 1 ■ i r"^ n nv,;. »" . ,■^ i;\-» i . . • . 't ■ ■ * * * . : T/^*^ glance aiul nuiniicr, and a rcrinenicnt of ttaliiic ihal fascinated Mr. Hamlin, who, fond as he was of all childhood, had (ertain masculine i)references for good looks. She seemed to \k- struggling with a desire to laugh when she entered, and wluii lack turned toward her with extended hands she held u]) her own warningly, and closing the do(jr behind her cautiouslv. said, in a demure whisj)er : " She'll come down as so(m as she can slij) past Madame door." "Who?" asked Jack. "Soj.hy." "Who's Sophy?" asked Jack seriously. He had never known the name of his Dulcinea. Jn the dim epistolat(>r\ region of sentiment she had existed f)nly as " 'I'he Blue Mo selle," so called from the cerulean hue of her i vorite raiment, and occasionally in moments of familiar en learment, as " Mosey." "■ Come, now, pretend you don't know, will you," said OIlv. evadinti the kiss which lack always had ready for childhood. *' If I was her, I wouldn't haye anything to say to you alter that !" she added, with that ostentatious chiyalry of her .sex to ward each other, in the presence of their common enemy. " \V'hy, she saw you from the window when you first came tliis morning, when you went back again and shaved off your nub- tache ; f,!.e knew you. And you don't know her ! It's mean, ain't it? — they'll grow again, won't they ?" Miss Oily referred to the mustaches and not the affections ! Jack was astonished and alarmed. In his anxiety to eyade or placate the duenna, he had neyer thought of her charge his .sweetheart. Here was a dilemma ! "Oh yes !" said Jack hastily, with a well simulated cxj>rcs- sion of arch affection, "Sophy, of course, that's my little game! But I'ye got a note for you too, my dear," and he handed ( )lly the few lines that Clabriel had hastily scrawled. He watciicd her keenly, almost breathlessly, as she read them. To his utter bewilderment she laid the note down indifferently and said. "That's like Gabe, the old simpleton !" " But you're goin' to do what he says," asked Mr. Handin, ain't you ?" MR. HAMMN IS OFF WIl M AN Oil) I.OVE. 301 ixiety to evade 1 Mr. Hamlin, "No," said Oily, pr()in))tly, •• I ain't! Why. l.onl! Mr. Hamlin, you don t know tliai man ; why, he does this sort o' thing every week !" Perceiving Jack stare, she went on, "Why, only last week, didn't he send to me to meet him out on the (inner of the street, and he my own brother, instead o' comin' here, ez he hez a right to do. (io to him at Wingdam ? No ! kct'hme!" " But suppose he can't come," (ontinued Mr. Hamlin. " Why can't he come ? I tell you, it's just foolishness and the meanest kind o' bashfulness. Jes' because they hap[)ened to be a young lady here from San Francisco, Rosey Ringround, who was a little took with the ole fool. If he could come to Wingdam, why couldn't he come here, — that's what I wan't to know ? " " Will you let me see that note ?" asked Hamlin. Oily handed him the note, with the remark, " He dttn't spell well — and he won't let me teach him — the old Muggins!" Hamlin took it and read as follows : " Dkar Om.V— If it don't run .1 fowl uv y r ifs>in{4s .ind the Madd.im's willin' and the youn}^ la no more from your affobhlunate brother, " tiAB." Mr. Hamlin was in a cjuandary. It never had been a part of his plan to let Oily know the importance of her journey. Mr. Ma.xwell's injunctions to bring her "({uietly," his own fears of an outburst that might bring a questioning and sympathetic school about his ears, and lastly and not the least potently, his own desire to enjoy Olly's company in the long ride to One Horse (lulch without the pteoccupation of grief, with his own (Oinfortable conviction that he could eventually bring Gabriel out of this " fix" without Oily knowing anything about it, all this forbade his telling her the truth. lUit here was a coil he had not thought of. Howbeit, Mr. Hamlin was ([uick at ex- pedients. '• Then you think Sophy can see me," he added, with a sudden interest. " Of course she will ! said Oily, archly. " It was right smart in you to get acquainted with Oabe and set him up to writing that ; though its just like him. He's that soft that anybody ut there she is now, Mr. Hamlin ; that's her step on the stairs, And 1 don't suppose you two he/ • s • 'UP* tJAJmit.I, CUNKt)V. .• < ' ) * V- 4 1 ♦i ''», r 'V i ,.(.*:,..' F -i"i iiny need o' nic now." And she slipped o'lt of tlic room, ns dcnuirely as she had entered, at the same moment that a tall. shm and somewhat sensational young lady in blue came fly- ing in. 1 ( an, in justice to Mr. Hamlin, whose secrets have been perhaps needlessly violated in the progress of this story, do no less than j)ass over as sacred, and perhai)S wholly irrelevant to the issue, the interview that took ])lace between himself and Miss Sophy. That he succeeded in convincing that yount,' woman of his unaltered loyalty, that he explained his lon^ silence as the result of a torturing doubt of the permanence ot" her own affection, that his presence at that moment was the successful culmination of a long-matured and desperate i)lan to see her once more and learn the truth from her own lips. 1 am sure that no meml.)er of my own disgraceful sex will cjues- tion, and 1 trust no member of a too f(;nd and confiding sc\ will doubt. That some bitterness was felt by Mr. Hamlin, who was conscious of certain irregularities during this long inter- riL and some tears shed by Miss Sophy, who was ecpially con S( lous of more or less aberration of her own magnetic instincts during his absence, I think will be self-evident to the largely comprehending reader. Howbeit, at the end of ten tender yet tranquilizing minutes Mr. Hamlin remarked in low, thrillint; tones : " Hy the aid of a few confiding friends and i^layin' it rather low on them I got that note to the Conroy girl, but the game's up and we might as well pass in our checks now, if she goes back on us, and i)asses out, which I reckon's her little game. If what you say is true, Sophy, and you do sometimes look back to the past, and things is generally on the square, you'll go for that Oily and fetch her. For if I go back without that child and throw up my hands it's just tampering with the holiest affections and ])laying it mighty rough on as white ii man as ever you saw, Sophy, to say nothing of your reputation. and everybody ready to buck agin us who has ten cents to chij) in on. You must make her go back with me and put things on a specie basis !" In spite of the mixed character of Mr. Hamlin's metaphor, his elo(juence was so convincing and effective that Miss Sopln at once proceeded with considerable indignation to insist upon V'>, ■«• ,f ! '9',.... HK IIIRKE VOICES. 'MKi Olly's withdrawing Iki refusal. ** It" tlii.s is the way you're go- ing to act, you horrid little thing ! after all that me and hini's trusted you, I'd like to see the girl in s( hool that will ever tell iv'// anything again, that's all !" a threat st) a|)|)alling that Oily, who did not stop to eonsitler that this < ()nliden( e was very recent and had been forced upon her, assented without further delay, exhibited (labriel's note to Madam Kclair, and having received that lady's gracious permi.ssion to vi.'-.it her brother, was in half aii hour in company with Mr. HoiuLn on the road. >f. • CILAPTKR XL. IMF, rURKI-: Vi'ICKS. Onck tree trom tiie trammelling fascinations of Sophy and the moie dangerous espiona^^c of Madam Kclair, and with the object of his mission accomplished, Mr. Hamlin recovered his natural spirits, and became so hilarious that Oily, who attributed this exaltation to his interview with Sophy, felt ( onstrained to make some disparaging remarks about that young lady, partly by way of getting even with her for her recent interference, and partly in obedience to some well-known but une.K)>la .1 law of the sex. To her great surprise, however, Mr. Hamli.i's spirits were in no way dam])ened, nor did he make any attempt to defend his Lalage. Nevertheless, he listened attentively, and when she had concluded, he looked suddenly down upon her hip hat and thick yellow tresses, and said : " Ever been in the Southern country, Oily ? '' " No," returned the child. " Never down about San Antonio, visiting friends or rela- tions ? " " No," said Oily, decidedly. Mr. Hamlin was silent for some time, giving his exclusive attention to his horse, who was evincing a disposition io .1 1 Li^i «i ,4 •1 :*• ;u)4 JiAIJKIF.I. (ONKOV. Mr. Iljinilm seriously. Ollv, a little ri)is( liicv "break " into n {^.illop. When hv had brought tho animal bac k into a trot again, he < ontimicd : " Theft's Ti woman! Oily." " Uown in San Antonio?" asked ( )lly Mr. Hamlin nodded. " Purty ?" ((»n?iniied the < hild. " It ain't the word," respcMided •* Purty ain't the word." "As j»urty as Sophy?" continued ously. "Sophy be .* Mr. Hamlin here (|uirkly pulled up himself" and horse, both being inclined to an exuberaiu e startling to the ycuith and .sex of the third party. "That is — 1 mean something in a dilTerent suit, entirely." Here he again hesitated, doubtful of his slang. " I see," <|U()th Oily ; " diamonds Sophy's is spades." The gambler (in sudden and awful admiratio;i) : " Diamonds — you've just struck it ! but what dojw/ know 'bout cards?" OWy (pofuposanitvite): " Everyiliing ! Tell our fortunes by 'em, we girls! I'm in hearts; Soj)hy's in spades; you're in clubs ! Do you know (in a thrilling whisi)er), only last night I had a letter, a journey, a death, and a gentleman in dubs- dark comj)lected - that's you." Mr. Hamlin (a good deal more at ease through this revela tion of the universal power of the four suits) : " Speakin' of women, 1 sui)i)ose down there [indicating the school] you or casionally hear of angels. What's their general complexion?" Oily (dubiously) ; " Jn the pictures ? " Hamlin : " Yes," (with a leading question) — " sorter dark com])lected .sometimes, hey?" Oily (i)ositively) : " Never ! — ahva\s white !" Jack : " Always white ? " Oily: "Yes -and flabby!" They rode along for some time silently. Presently Mr. Hamlin broke into a song - a i)opular song — one verse of which Oily supplied with such deftness of execution and melodiousness of pipe, that Mr. Hamlin instantly suggested a (iuet, And so over the dead and barren wastes of the '»>. I UK IHKKF. VOK K.s. ;{0f> ininial bark I seriously e rnis< hit'v Sarrnmento pliiins they foil lo singing', nUrn barbarously. -Diiu'tiint's inclodionsly. but tuvct scll-ronsciouslv. wherein I takt' It tlu'V ai)i»ro\iin;itr(l to i!" birds and better class of |)ocls. so that rough ttaFu^tcrs. rude i>n(kers, and weiiry wayfarers were often tou( hed. as with the birds ;ind poets aforesaid, to .i(iMiiratit>n and tenderness. And when they stopped for sujtper .It a wayside station, and Jack Hamlin displayed that re;idiness of resource, audacity of manner and address, and jierfect nnd natural oblivi(uisness to the criticism of pro|)riety or llu- limitations ol i)re< edi nt, and when, moreover, the results of all this was ;i much better su|))»er th;in perha])s a more n-putable comjKinion could have jirocured, she thought she lind never known a more engaging jjerson than this Knave of Clubs. When they were fairly (m the road again Oily Ingan to exhibit some « uriosity regarding her brother, antl asked some few (]uestions about (labriel's familv, whi( h disclosed the fact that lack's acquaintance with (labriel was < onipiiratively recent. " Then you never saw July at all ?" asked Oily. "July?" (jueried Jack." reflectively, "what's she like?" "I don't know whether she's a heart or s|)ade,"' said Ollv, as thoughtfully. Jack was silent for some nu)!nents, and then after a ])ause, to OUy's intense astonishment. pro« eeded to sketch, in a few vigorous phra.ses, the external < harac teristi< s of Mrs. Conroy. ** Why you said you never saw her ! " ejaculated Oily. "No more I did.'' responded the the gambler, with a (]ui« k laugh ; " this is only a little bluff! " It had grown cold with the brief twilight imd the coming on • if night. For s mc time the black un•• • t ' > I :{o«) «iAim»KI, tONkoV. t)C'MtMlh the tlii(k travelling sh.iwl of Mr. iiainlin, with \vhi( li she was inwrappi'd. Whereat |a« k at oik e jtrodiH ed a llask, and prevailed iijjon Oily to drink suniething that set her U> couf^hing, hut whi< i that astute and e\perien( ed rhild at on( e rueof;ni/ed as whisky. Mr. Hamlin, to hei >iurprise, however, did not himself partake, a fact whirh she at one e pointed out to him. "At an early age, Oily," said Mr. Hamlin, with infinite gravity, '* I promised an infirm and aged n.'Iative never to indulge in s))irituous licjuors, ex(epl on a |)hysi(ian's prescrip lion. I carry this flask subject to the doctor* orders. Never having ordered me to drink any, I don't." As it was too dark for the child to observe Mr. Hamlin's eyes, whi( h after the fashion ol her sex, she consulted much oftener than his si)eech for his real meaning, and was as «)ften deceived, she said nothing, and Mr. Hamlin relapsed into silence. At the end of five minutes he said • " S/ie was a woman, Oily, you bet ! " Oily, with grvat tact ami discernment, instantly referrin^^ back to Mr. Hamlin's discourse of an hour before, (jueried : " That girl in the Southern country ?" "Yes," said Mr. Hamlin. " Tell me all about her," said Oily ; "all you know." "'I'hat ain't much," mused Hamlin, with a slight sigh. "Ah, Oily, s/ic ( ould sing ! " "With the piano?" said Oily a little superciliously. '" With the organ," said Hamlin. Oily, whose sole idea of this instrument was of the itinerant barrel variety, yawned slightly, and with a very |)erceptil)Ie lack of interest said that she hoj^ed she would see her some lime when she came up that way and was " going 'round." Mr. Hamlin did not laugh, but after a few minutes' rapid driving, began to explain to Oily with great earnestness the < harac ter of a church organ. " I used to i)lay one (mce. Oily, in a church. They did say that 1 used sometimes to fetch that congregation, jest snatch 'em bald-headed, Oily, but it's a long time ago ! There was one hymn in particular that I used to run on consid'rible— one o' them masses o' Mozart's— one that 1 heard /ler sing, Oily ; it went something like this," and I UK I II HI- K VOUK.s :m j.uk |»r(»r<'c(lod to lift his voice in tlu- praiNO of ( >ui l.ulyof Sorrows, with :\ strtTic uncons< iousncss to his surnunMliii^s, and utter absorittion in his tht-nu' th;U wouhl have Iki oinc tlic most cnthiisiastii acolyte. The sprinf^s c reaktMl. the wherls rattled, the mare broke, |>lun,L;ed. and re<<>vered herselt. the sli^'ht vehicle swayi-d from side to side. Olly's hat bruised and ll.Utened itself af^ainsi his shoulder, and still Mr. Il.imhn saii^. When he had finished, lie looked down at Oily. She was asleep ! jack was an artist and an enthusiast, but not unreasace when his wheels sank to their hubs in the beaten dust of the stage road. The darkness of that early hour was intensified by the gloom of the heavy pine woods through which the red road threadid its (liflcult and devious way. It was very still. Hamlin ( ould hardly hear the dead, mulled plunge of his own horse in the (lusty track before him, and yet once or twice he stopped to listen. His (juick ear had detected the sound of voices and the jingle of Mexican spurs, apparently a}>proa< hing behiml liim. Mr. Hamlin knew that he had not ])assed any horseman itid was for a moment puzzled. lUit then he re( ailed the tact that a few hundred yards beyond, the road was intersec ted by 'ho "cut-off" to One Horse (iulch, which after running parallel t- ! '1 ,1 •' ■!.•'.•.■• > i' '. m . :.-^?;: ■. i'> 1\ «' .■••it:. ■ >*; :i\4 [:r. • 1 -. 308 GAP.RIFL CON ROY. with the Wingdani liirn])ike for halfa mile crossed it in the forest. The voices were on that road going the same way. Mr. Hamlin pushed on his horse to the crossing, and, hidden by the dark- ness and the trunks of the giant pines, pulled up to let the strangers precede him. In a few moments the voices were abreast of him and stationary. The horsemen had api)arently halted. " Here seems to be a road," said a voice, quite audii)ly. "All right, then," returned anothe: ; it's the 'cut-off.' We'll .save an hour, sure." A third voice here struck in iK)tentially, " Keep the stage road. If Joe Hall gets wind of what's up, he'll run his man down to Sacramento for safe keej)ing. If he does he'll take this road — it's the only one, sabe ? we can't miss him ! " back Hamlin leaned forward breathlessly in his .seat. "But it's an hour longer this way," growled the second voice. "The boys will wait," responded the |)revious sj)eaker ; there was a laugh, a jingling of s))urs, and the invisible j^rocession moved slowly forward in the darkness. Mr. Hamlin did not stir a muscle until the voices failed before him in the distanc e. 'I'iien he cast a (|ui( k glance at the child; she still sle])t ([uielly, undisturbed b\ 'ho halt or those ominou-s voices which had brought so sudden a color into her companion's cheek and so baleful a light in his dark eyes. Yet for a moment Mr. Hamlin hesitated. Togo forward to Wingdam now would necessitate his following cautiously in the rear of the Lynchers, and so j)revent his giving a timely alarm. To strike acrosss to One Horse (iulch by the "cut-off" would lose him the chance of meeting the Sheriff and his p'isoner, had they been forewarned, and were esca])ing in time. But for the impediment of the unconscious little figure beside hini, he would have risked a dash through the party ahead of him. But that was not to be thought of now. He must follow them to Wingdam, leave the child, and trust to luck to reach One Horse (lulch before them. If they delyaed a moment at Wingdam it could l)e done. A feeling of yearning tenderness and pity succeeded the slight impatience with which he had a moment before regarded his encumbering charge. He heid h^r in his arms, scarcely daring to lireathe lest he should waken 0^ IIIK iFlkl.K VOICFS. :{(»!> i)ff" would her, hoi>in^ tlinl slic mi^^ht slecj) until they tearlied Wingdani. and that leaving her with his faithful henchman "Pete," he might get away before she was aroused to embarrassing inijuiry. Mr. Hamlin had a man's dread of scenes with even so small a specimen of the sex, and for once in his life, he felt d()u))tful of his own readiness, and feared lest in his excitement he might reveal the imminent danger of her brother. rerhai)s he was never before so ct)nscious of that danger ; perh. .ps he was never before so interested in the life of any one. He began to see things with ( )lly's eyes- to look upon events with reference to her feelings rather than his own ; if she had .sobbed and cried this sympathetic rascal really believed that l>e would have criecl too. Such was the unconscious and sincere flattery of ad miration. He was relieved when, with the first streaks of dawn, his mare wearily clattered over the scattered river pebbles and " tailings'' that i)aved the outskirts of Wingdam. He was still more relieved when the three Voices of the Night, now faintly visible as three armed horsemen, drew up before the veranda of the Wingdam Hotel, dismounted, and passed into the bar-room. And he was j)erfectly content, when a moment later he lifted the still sleei)ing Oily in his arms and bore her swiftly, yet cautiously, to his room. To awaken the sleeping Pete on the floor above, and drag him half-dressed and be- wildered into the presence of the unconscious child: as she lay on Jack Hamlin's own bed, half buried in a heap of shawls and rugs, was only the work of another moment. "Why, Mars Jack! Press de Lord !- -it's a chile!" .said Pete, recoiling in sacred awe and astonishment. "Hold your blasted jaw!" said Jack, in a fierce wiiisper, "you'll waken her ! Listen to me, you chattering idiot. Don't waken her, if you want to keep the bones in your creaking old skeleton whole enough for the doctors to buy. Pet her sleep as long as she can. If she wakes uj) and asks after me, tell her I'm gone for her brother. Do you hear ? (iive her any- thing she asks for — except the Truth ! What are you doing, vou old fool?" Pete was carefullv removing the mountain ot siiawls and blankets that jack had piled u|)on Oily. " Kore Clod, Mars Jack, you's smudderini; dat chile!" was his only response. '*.. ' •■% 5^:- ;■•>- :no GAHklKJ, CON'kOV. 'A ' ■ •1 ' ' ■ , .• t 4* f ;■ •» 1 ■ ^ .1 It Nevertheless, Jack was satisfied with a certain vague tenderness in his manij)ulation, and said curtly, "' (let me a horse !" " It ain't to be did, Mars Jack ; de stables is all gone — cleaned ! Dey's a rush over to One Horse (lulch, all day ! " "There are three horses at the door," said Jack, with a wicked significance. "For the love of God, Mars Jack, don't yc do dat!" ejaculated Pete, in unfeigned and tremulous alarm. "Deydon'i lake dem kind o' jokes yer worth a cent- dey'd be doin' somefin awful to ye, sah — ^shuah's yer born !" But Jack, with the child lying there i)eaceably in hiij own bed. and the Tiiree Voices growing husky in the bar-room below, regained all his old audacity. " I haven't made u[) my mind," continued Jack, coolly, " which of the three I'll take, but vou'll find out from the owner when I do! Tell him that Mr. Jack Hamlin left his compliments and a mare and a buggy for him. Vou can say that if he keeps the mare fron^ breaking and gives her her head down hill, she can do her mile inside of 2:45. Hush ! Bye-bye !" He turned, lifted the shawl from tiie fresh cheek of the sleeping Oily, kissed her, and shaking his fist at Pete, vanished. For a few moments the negro listened breathlessly. Ami then there came the sharp, (juick clatter of hoofs from the rocky road below, and he sank dejectedly at the foot of the bed. " He's gone done it ! Lord save us ! but it's a hangin' matter yer!" And even as he spoke Mr. Jack Hamlin, mounted on the fleet mustang that had been ridden by the Potential Voice, with his audacious face against the red sunrise, and his right shoulder stjuarely advanced, was butting away the morning mists that rolled slowly along the river road to One Horse (iulch. CHAPTER XTJ. MR. DUMPMV IS PERPI.K.XED BV A MOVEMF.NT IN REAL FSTATF.. Mr. Dr.Mi'iiv's confidence in himself was so greatly restoreil, that several business enterprises of great pith and momen*; MR. DUMIMIV Is I'KRl'l.l Xi;l>. ;;ii *■ . • e tenderness ^F.AL F.S'lATr.. whose currents for the past few days liad been turned awry, and so "lost the name of action," were taken uj) by him with great vigor, and corresponding joy to the humbler business associates who had asked him just to lend his name to that project, and make a "big thing of it." He had just given his royal sanction and a check to an association for the em ourage- ment of immigration, by the distribution through the sister States of one million seductive pamphlets setting forth the various resources and advantages of California for the farmer, and proving that $150 si)ent for a passage thither was ecjual to the price of a farm ; he had also assisted in sending the eUniueni Mr. Blowhard and the ])ersuasive Mr. Windygust to j)resent these facts orally to the benighted dwellers of the F'.ast and had secured the services of two eminent Californian statistic ians to demonstrate the tact that more people were killed by lightning and frozen to death in the streets of New N'ork in a single year, than were ever killed by railroad accidents or human violence in California during the past three centuries ; he had that day conceived the "truly magnificent plan" of bringing the waters of Lake Tahoe to San Francisco by ditches, thereby enabling the citizens to keep the turf in their door-yards green through the summer. He had started two banks, a stage line, and a watering-place, whose climate and sj)rings were declared healthful by edict and were aggressively advertised, and he had just projected a small suburban town that should bear his name. He had returned from this place in high spirits with a company of friends in the morning, after his interview with Poinsett. There was certainly no trace of the depression of that day in his manner. It was a foggy morning, following a clear, still night, an atmosphere condition not unusual at that season of the year to attract Mr. Dumphy's attention, yet he was conscious on reaching his office, of an undue oppressiveness in the air that indisposed him to exertion, and caused him to remove his < oat and cravat. Then he fell to work upon his morning's mail, and speedily forgot the weather. 'I'here was a letter from Mrs, Sepulvida disclosing the fact that, owing to the sudden and unaccountable drying up of the springs on the lower plains, large numbers of cattle had died of her thirst and were still .1 « Ill i ■ ( 1 ^i?'! .«•■ 312 OAHRlFr, CONROY. l)L'risliing. 'I'his was of serious imi)ort to Mr. I)iiiuj)liy, who had advanrcd money on this perishable stock, and he instantlv made a memorandum to check this sudden freak of nature, which he at once attril)uteci to feminine carelessness of manage ment. Further on, Mrs. Sepulvida incjuired particularly as to the condition of the Conroy mine, and dis|)layed a disposition characteristic of her sex, to realize at once on her mvestment. Her letter ended thus: " But I shall probably see you in San Francisco. Pepe says that this morning the markings on the beach showed the rise of a tide or wave during the night higher than any ever knov.ii since i8oo. I do not feel safe so near the beach, and shall rebuild in the spring." Mr, I)umi)hy smiled grimly to himself. He had at onetime envied Poinsett. Hut here was the woman he was engaged to marry, careless, improvident, with a vast estate, and on the eve of financial disaster through her carelessnes.s, and yet actually about to take a journey of two hundred miles because of some foolish, womanish whim or superstition. It would be a tine thing if this man, to whom good fortune fell without any effort on his part — this easy, elegant, suj)erci4ious Arthur Poinsett, who was even indifferent to that good fortune, should find himself tricked and deceived — should have to apply to him, Dumphy, for ad vice and assistance I And this, too, after his own advice and assistance regarding the claims of (Colonel Starbottle's client had been futile. The revenge would be complete. Mr. Dumphy rubbed his hands in prospective satisfaction. When, a few moments later, Colonel Starbottle's card was put into his hand, Mr. Dumphy's satisfaction was complete. This was the day that the gallant Colonel was to call for an r.nswer ; it was evident that Arthur had not seen him, nor had he made the discovery of Starbottle's unknown client. The opjKirtunity of vantpiishing this man without the aid or even the knowledge of Poinsett was now before him. liy way ot preparing himself for the encounter, as well as pimishi.ig the ('olonel, he purposely delayed the interview, and for full five minutes kept his visitor cooling his heels in the outer ofiice. He was seated at his desk, ostentatiously preoccui)ied, when Colonel Starbottle was at last admitted. He did not raise his head when the door o[)ened, nor in fact until the Colonel ,MK. Dr.MPHV IS l'l.lolitene:s. *' Before proceeding to business er- we will de vote a sii gle moment to the necessary e.\|)lanations of- er — er a gentleman. The kyard now lying before you, 'sir, was handed ten minutes ago to one of your subordinates. 1 wish to enijuire, sir, if it was then delivered to you ?" "Yes," said Mr. Dumphy, impatiently. Colonel Starbottle leaned over Mr. Dumj^hy's desk and coolly rung his bell. Mr. Dumphy's clerk instantly appeared at the door. "I wish," said the Colonel, addressing himself the as- tounded employe as he stood loftily over Mr. l)iun])hy's (hair; 'I have — er — in fact sent for you, to withdraw the offensive c'j)ithets I addressed to you, and the threats- of er — of er — l)ersonal violence ! The offense-is not yours — but — er — rests with your employer, for whose a])ology T am — er- now waiting. Nevertheless, I am ready, sir, to holcl myself at your service- that is — er — of course — after my resi)onsibility — er— with your master — er — ceases I" Mr. Dumphy, who, in the presence of Colonel Starbottle, felt his former awkwardness return, signed with a fon ed smile to his embarrassed clerk to withdraw, and said hastily, but with an assumption of easy familiarity : " Sorry, Colonel, sorry, but I was very busy, and am now. No offense. All a mistake, you know ! business man and busi- ness hours," and Mr. Dumphy leaned back in his chair, and emitted his rare cachinnatory l)ark. " (jlad to hear it, sir, I accept your apology," said the ('olonel, recovering his good humor and his ])rofanity together; " blank me, if I didn't think it was another blank affair like that I had with old Maje Tolliver, of (leorgia. Called on him in Washington in '48 during session. Boy took u\) my kyard. V ; » . I- '.f . . '-1 • . »» ■ >^ t' :.-'';t pv :* H^r,i. :k y't • 314 GABRIEL CON ROY. Waited ten minutes, no rej)Iy ! Then sent tViend, poor Jeff Boomerang dead now, killed in New Orleans by Ben Pastor — with challenge. Blank me, sir, after the second shot, Maje sends for me, lying thar with hole in both lungs, gasping tor breath, ' It's all a blank blunder, Star,' he says, ' boy never bron^^ht kyard. flo sewhip the blank nigger for me, Star, for I reckon I wont live to do it," and died like a gentleman, blank me !" "What have you got to propose?" said Mr, Dumjjhw hastily, seeing an ojjportunity t(j stoj) the flow of the Colonel's recollections. *' According to my memory, at our last interview over the social glass in your own house, I think something was .said of a proposition coming from you. 'I'hat is — er," continued the Colonel, loftily, *' 1 hold myself responsible for the mistake, if any." it had been Mr. Dumphy's first intention to assume the roughly offensive ; to curtly inform Colonel Starbottle of the flight of his confederate, and dare him to do his worst. But. for certain vague reasons, he changed his i^lan of tactics. He drew his chair closer to the Colonel, and clapping his hand familiarly on his shoulder, began : " You're a man of the world, Starbottle, so am I ? Sa/h f You're a gentleman so am I," he continued, hastily. " But I'm a business man, and you're not. Sahe ? Let's understand each other. No offense, you know, l)ut in the way of business. This woman, claiming to be my wife, don't exist — it's all right, you know, I understand. J don't blame you, but you've been deceived, and all that sort of thing. I've got the proofs. Now as a man of the world and a gentleman and a business man. when I say the game's up ! you understand me. Dern it all I look at that -there!" He thru.st into Starbottle's hand the the telegram of the preceding day. " There ! the man's hung by this time— lynched ! the woman's gone !" Col. Starbottle read the telegram without any i)recei)tible dis- may or astonishment. " Conroy ! Conroy ! — don't know the man. There was a McConroy, of St. Jo, but I don't think it's the same. No, sir ! This ain't like him, sir ! Don't seem to be a duel, unless he d MR. DIMPHV TS PP RI'I.FXM). 315 |if,ritcd tho ninn to kill on sight : inurdor's an ugly word to use to gentlemen. HIank me, sir, I don't know l)Ut lie ((mid hold the man responsible that sent that (lispat( h. Its offensive, sir blank me !" "And yon don't know Mrs. Conroy?" continued Mr. Dinn- [ihy, fixing his eyes on Col. Starbottle's face. "Mrs. C'onroy ! The wife of the superintendent one of the blankest, most beautiful women! (lood (led, sir, I do! \nd I'm dev'lish sorry for her. Hut what's this got to do with our affair? () ! I see, (ied !"— the Colonel suddenly cluukled, drew out his handkerchief, and waved it in flie air with depre- catory gallantry, " gossip, sir, all g(jssip ! People will talk ! A tine woman ! lilank me, if she was inclined to show some at- tention to Col. Starbottle- (led, sir, it was no more than other Aomen have. V'ou comi)iehend, Dumphy, (led, sir, so the story's got round, eh ? husband's jealous ! killed wrong man ! Folks think she's run off with Col. Starbottle, ha ! ha ! No, sir," he continued, suddenly dropping into an attitude of digni- fied severity. " Vou can say that Col. Starbottle branded the story as a blank lie, sir ! That whatever might have been the foolish indiscretion of a sus( ejjtible sex. Col. Starbottle will de- fend the reputation of that lady, sir, with his life— with his life!" Absurd and ridiculous as this sudden diversion of Col. Star- hotde from the point at issue had become, Dumphy could not (ioubt his sincerity nor the now self-evident fact that Mrs. Con- roy was //^?/ his visitor's mysterious client! Mr. I)umi)hy felt that his su(idenly built-u[) theory was demolished and his ho])e with it. He was still at the mercy of this conceited braggart and the invisible power behind him, whoever or whatever it might be. Mr. Dumphy was not inclined to su[)erstition, but he began to ex[)erience a strange awe of his unknown persecu- tor, and resolved at any risk to discover who it was. Could it l)e really his wife ?- had not the supercilious Poinsett been himself tricked, or was he not now trying to trick him, Dum- (ihy? Coulchi't Starbottle be bribed to expose at least the name of his client? He would trv it. " I said just now you had been deceived in this woman who 'q)resents herself to be my wife, I find I have been mistaken ' t. 816 (•.AHKIEI. CON ROY. .) < • • - ) .» ■ ■1 " ■.. .! . 1 r ■• '■■,' i.- in the ])erson who 1 |)c1icvc(l imposed upon yon. and it is pos sihlc tliat I may he otherwise wronj;. My wife may he ah'vr 1 am wilhng to admit it. Bring her here to-morrow and I will a<(ept it as a fac t." " You forget that she refuses to see you again," said Col. Starhottle, " until she has established lier claim bv process ol law." "That's so! that's all right, old fellow ; 7i>e understand ea( h other. Now, suppose that we business men — as a business maxim you know always jjrefer to deal with princijials. Now sujipose we even go so far as to do that and yet pay an agent's commissions, i)erhai)S, you understand me, even a /w/z/v. (lood ! I'hat's business ! You understand that as a gentlr man and a man of the world. Now, I say, bring me your ])riii cipal — fetch along that woman, and I'll make it all right witli yo//. Stoj) ! I know what you're going to say ; you're bound by honor and all that— I understand your j)osition as a gentle man, and respect it. Then let me know where I can find her. Understand, you sha'n't be compromised as bringing about the interview in any way. I'll see that you're ])rotected in your commission from your client; and for my part, if a check for five thousand dollars will satisfy you of my desire to do thr right thing in this matter, it's at your service." The Colonel rose to his feet and applied himself ai)])arentlv to the single and silent inflation of his chest, for the space of a minute. When the upper buttons of his coat seemed to be <»ii the point of flying off with a rei)ort, he suddenly extended his hand and grasped I)um])hy's with fervor. " Permit me," he said, in a voice husky with emotion, "to congratulate myself on dealing with a gentleman and a man of honor. Your sentiments, sir. blank me, I don't care if I (Id say it, do you credit ! I am proud, sir," continued the Colonel, warmly, "to have made your acquaintance ! But I regret to say, sir, that I cannot give you the information you require, i do not myself know the name or address of my client." The look of half-contemptuous satisfaction which had irnuli ated Dumphy's face at the beginning of this speech, changed to one of angry suspicion at its close. " That's a (jueer oversight of yours," he ejaculated, with an expression as nearly insultiiii; MR. nUMl'IIV IS IM-KPl.KXKD. ;n7 and it is ims may be alivi\ ow and I will in," said Col. by process ol [lerstand ea* li IS a business K'ipals. Now lay an agent'^ \cn a /w///\. ; as a gentle me your prin all right with you're bound )n as a gentle can find her. ;ing about the ected in your if a check for ;ire to do the elf api^arently the space of a med to be on extended his emotion, "to and a man of care if I do dtheC'olonel, Uit I regret to )u refjuire. 1 ient." ch had irradi h, changed to ueer oversi^uht early insultiiiL; .IS he dared to make il. ("ol. Starbotlle did nut apparently notice the manner of his speech, but, drawing his (hair close !)eside Dumphy, he laid his hand upon his arm. " Your confidence as a man of honor and a gentleman," he began, "demands ecjual (ont'idence and frankness on my part, and, blank me I Culp. Starbottle of Virginia is not the man to withhold it ! When I slate that I do //c/ know the name oi address of my client, 1 believe, sir, there is no one now living — blank me, who will -er — cr — re(juire or- er- deem it neces sary for me to re|)eat the assertion I (!ertainly not, sir," added tiie (!olonel, lightly waving his hand, " the gentleman who has just honored me with his confidence and invited mine, blank me. 1 thank you, sir," he continued, as Mr, Dumphy made a hasty motion of assent, " and will go on. " It is not necessary for me to name the i)arty who first put me in possession of the facts. You will take my word as a gentleman — er — that it is soine one unknown to you, of unim- jjortant position, though of strict respectability, and one who acted only as the agent of my real client. When the ( ase was handed over to me, there was also put into my ])ossession a sealed envelope containing the name of my client and principal witness. My injunctions were not to open it until all negotia tions had failed and it was necessary to institute legal proceed ings. That envelope I have here. You perc eive it is un oi)ened '.'' Mr. Oumphy uncon.sciously reached out his hand. With a gesture of polite dejjrecation Col. Starbottle evaded it, and jjlacing the letter on the table before him, continued : " It is unnecessary to say that — er — there being in my judg- ment no imme('iate necessity for the beginning of a suit — the injunctions still restrain me, and I shall not open the letter. If, however. I accidentally mislay it on this table and it is returned to me to-morrow, sealed as before, 1 believe, sir, as a gentle- man and a man of honor I violate no pledge." " I see," said Mr. I)umi)hy, with a short laugh. " Excuse me, if I venture to recjuire another condition, merely as a form among men of honor. Write as i dictate." Mr. Dumphy took uj) a i)en. Col. .Starbottle placed one han»i in his honorable breast and begun slowly and meditatively «. i. I -••?- 318 GAHRII-.I, CONROV. I .1 i J ^ •'«• % , , t • r.|M:'-t >ji; W ir i ^: 1 f :•«» to pace the length of the room witli the air ol a S'jf'nd measuring; the (hstaiue for his priiuipa' " Are you ready ? " "(io on," said Dmnphy, impatiently. "1 hereby pledt^e myself er — er— that in the event of nnv disclosure by me— er — of < onfidential connuunic ations tVom CJol, Starhotlle to me, 1 shall hold myself ready to nfford him the usual honorable satisfaction er common among gende men, at such times or i)Iaces an ' with such weapons as he may choose, without further formality of challenge, and that— er — cr- failing in that I do thereby jjroclaiiii myself, without post- ing, a liar, poltroon, and dastard." In the full preoccupation of his dignified composition, and possibly from an inability to look down over the increased exaggeration of his swelling breast, Col. Starbottle did not observe the contemptuous smile which curled the lip of his amanuensis, llowbeit, Mr. Dumphy signed the document and handed it to him. Colonel Starbottle put it in his pocket. Nevertheless, he lingered by Mr. Dumphy's side. '* 'I'he er — er check," said the ('olonel with a slight cougli, " had better be to your order, indorsed by you, to sjjare tiiy criticism, hereafter." Mr. l)um[)hy hesitated a moment. He would have preferred as a matter of business to have fust known the contents of the enveloi)e, but with a slight smile he dashed off the check and handed it to the Colonel. "If er- it would not be too much trouble," said the Colonel jauntily, " for the same reason just mentioned would you give that er — i)iece of paper to one of your clerks to draw the money for me ? " Mr. Dumphy -impatiently, with his eyes on the envelope, rang his bell and handed the check to the clerk, while Colonel Starbottle, with an air of abstraction, walked discreedy to the window. For the rest of Colonel Starbottle's life he never ceased to de|)lore this last act of caution, and to regret that he had not j)Ut the check in his ])Ocket. For as he walked to the window the floor suddenly appeared to rise beneath his feet and as suddenly sink again, and he was throwH violently against the MR. DlMlilV Is I'Kkl't.KXF.h. Mi) mantel |)ic('c. He felt sick and K'^^^'V- Witli :i torril>le ai)|)relK'nsi(f bills and papers, another who held his ledger under his arm. There were men who had forgotten the ordinary instincts of decency — some half dressed, one who had flown from a neighboring bath-room with only the towel in his hand tliat afterward hid his nakedness. There were men who rushed liom the fear of death into his presence ; two were picked up, ' 'ue who had jumped through a skylight, another who had blindly icaped from a fourth story window. There were brave men who trembled like children ; there was one whose life had ''cen spent in scenes of daring and danger, who cowered para- «. 'n-:. v' :?;•■■ ,./ ^ « .» ■• 1 .. >■ , ' »■ ,' 4' • > r.-^. ;{-'o (;\mA.Iing terror, that half an hour later only a sense of the ludicrous remained with the greater masses of the i)eople. Mr. Dumphy, like all practical, unimaginative men, was among the first to recover his presence of mind with the passing of the immediate danger. People took confidence when this great man, wh(» had so much to lose, after sharply remanding his clerks ant) everybody else back to business, re-entered his office. He strode at once to his desk. But the enveloi)e was gone! He looked hurriedly amongst his pa[)ers, on the floor, by tliu broken window, but in vain. Mr. Dumphy instantly rang his bell. The clerk ap[)eared. " Was that draft paid?" *' No, sir, we were countini'^ the inoneA' when " <♦*; Jll.VllCt: AM) TIIK UKAVKN.S KAI.L. :{2l "Sloi) '^ •■ return the draft to inc." 'J'hc young man was contldinj; to his (ontVorcs his sus|»i( ions >f a probahlc "run "on the hank, as indii ati-d by Mr. Dunipliy's caution, when ho was aj;ain sunnnoned by Mr. Duujphy. *'(iot(^ Mr. I'oinsett's offu e and ask him to rome here at once In a few moments the clerk Jeturned out of l)reath. " Mr. I'oinsclt left (juarter of an hour ago, sir, fur San Antonio." " San Antonio ! " " Yes, sir; tliey say there's had nirws from the Missit)n." CITAPTKR XI.II IN WmcFt BOTH JUsnCK AND rilK lir AVr.NS FAIL TuK day lollowing the di.scovery of the murder of Vict(vr Ramirez was one of the intensest excitement in One Horse (Julch. It was not that kilhng was rare in tluit i)astoral ( onmiunity — foul murder had ))een done there upon tiie bodies of various citizens of more or less respe< tability, and the vi< tim, in the present instance, was a stranger, and a man wjio awakened no personal symj)athy ; but the suspicion that swiftly and instantly attached to two such important ])eople as Mr. and Mrs. Conroy — already ol)jects of severe criticism- was sufficient to exalt this partic ular crime above all others in thrilling interest. For two days business was practically suspended. 'The discovery ot the murtler was made by Sal, who stumbled 11] "on the body of the unlortunate Victor early the next inorniTig during a walk on (,'onroy's Hill, manifestly in search of the missing man, who had not returned to the hotel that night. A few flippant souls, misunderstanding M'ss Clark's interest in tiie stranger, asserted that he had comitted suicide to escape her attentions, but all joe ular hypotheses had ceased ■ « . f' • ■ i , 322 fJAnUtKL CONROY. ■ A V '*u ■ ' -i-' when it l)ecame known that (labriel and his wife had fled, 'I'hcM ca.ne the report that (ial)riel had been seen l)y a passing miner early in the day "shoving" the stranger along the trail with liis hand on his collar, and exchanging severe words. Then the willing testimony of Miss CUark that she had seen Mrs. (>onr(jy in secret C(jnverse with Victor before the murder; then the unwilling evidence of the ('hinaman who had overtaken (labriel with the letter, but who heard the sounds of (juarrellini; and cries for helj) in the bushes after his departure; but this evi dence was excluded from the in(iuest,l)y virtue of the famous Cali- fornian law that a Tagan was of necessity a liar, and that truth resided only in the breast of the Christian ('aucasian, and was ejvcluded from the general public for its incompatibility wirii (Jabriel's subse(|uent flight, and the fact that the Chinaman, being a fool, was probably mistaken in the hour. 'I'hen there was the testimony of the tunnel-men to Oabriel's appearance on the hill that night. There was only one important proof not submitted to the i)ul)lic or the authorities — Mrs. Conroy's note- picked up by Sal, handed to Mrs. Markle, and given by her to Lawyer Maxwell. The knowledge of this document was restricted to the few already known to the reader. A dozen or more theories of tlie motive of the deed, at different hours of the day, occupied and disturbed the j)ublic: mind. That Gabriel had come upon a lover of iiis wife in the ..v:t of eloping with her, and had slain him out of hand, was the firs*. That Cabriel had decoyed the man to an interview bv sim . lating his wife's handwriting, and then worked his reveiige on /lis body, was accepted later as showing the necessary de liberation to constitute murder. 'J'iiat (iabriel and his wife hatl 'onjointly taken this method to rid themselves of a former iover who threatened exposure, was a still later theory. Toward evening when One Horse (iulch had really leisure to put its heads together, it was generally understood that Gabriel and Mrs. Conroy had i)ut out of their way a dangerous and necessarily riglitful claimant to that mine which Gabriel hail pretended to di.scover. This opinion was for some time — sa\' two hours -the f^ivorite one, agreeing as it did with the popular opinion of Gabriel's inability to discover a mine himself, and was only modified by another theory that Victor was not the JUSTICE AND THE HEAVENS FALT,. H'1'6 real < laiinant, l)ut a dangerous witness that the Conroy's had f()und it necessary to dis])()se of. And when, poss'l>iy from some unguarded expression of J.awyer Maxwell, it was reported that (lal)riel Conroy was an impostor under an assumed name, all further speculation was deemed unnecessary. The coroner's jury brought in a verdict against "John Doe a/uis (labriei Conroy," and One Horse (luldi added this injury of false pre- tense to other grievances complained of. One or two cases of horse-stealing and slu'ce-robbing in the neighborhood were indefinitely but strongly connected with this discovery. Jf I am thus particular in citing these evidences of the various graduations of belief in the guilt of the accused; ^t is because they were peculiar to One Horse Horse Gulch, and, of course, never obtained in more civilized communities. It is scarcely necessary to say that one person in One Horse (lulch never wavered in her opinion of Gabriel's innocence, nor that that person was Mrs, Markle ! That he was the victim of a vile conspiracy that Mrs. Conroy was the real culprit, and had diabolically contrived to fastci the guilt upoo her husband, IVIrs. Markle not only believed herself, but abso- lutely contrived to make Lawyer Maxwell and S:.I believe also. More than that, it had undoubtedly great j)owjr in restraining Sal's evidence before the in(juest, which that impulsive and sympathetic young woman persisted in delivering behind a Mack veil and in a suit of the deejiest mourning that could be hastily improvised in One Horse Oulch. " Miss Clark's evidence," said the "Silveropolis Messenger," "although broken by sobs and occasional expressions of indignation against the murderer, strongly impressed the jury as the natural el(K}uence of one connected by the tenderest ties with the unfortunate victim. It is said that she was an old acc^uaintance of Rami- rez, who was visiting her in the hope of inducing her to consent to a haj)py termination of a life-long courtship, w! '^n the dastard hand of the murderer changed the bridal wreath to tlie veil of mourning. From expressions that dro])ped from the witness's lips, although restrained by natural modesty, it would not l)e >irange if jealousy were shown U) be one of the impelling I auses. It is said that previous to his marriage the alleged ■ '■■'■■■ .-:¥ ^.i" .^-^ J I 1 ,.i r^i A> k- :r24 r.ABRIEL CONROY. (labricl ('onroy was a frc([ucnt visilot at the house of \\\^^ Clark." I venture to (juote this extract, not so much for its suggestion of a still later theory in the last sentence, as for its poeti( ;il elegance, and as an offset to the ruder r;.cord of the "One Horse Ciulc.h lianner," which 1 grieve to say was as follows : " Sal was no slouch of a witness. Rigged out in ten yards <>< Briggs's best black glazed muslin, and with a lot of bla( k mosquito netting round her head, she pranced round the stand like a skittish hearse horse in fly-time. If Sal calculates to u( into mourr.ing for every man she has to sling hash to, we'd recommend her to buy up Briggs's stock and take one of I*;ii Hooian's carriages for the season. There is a strong feelini among men whose heads are level that this Minstrel Variel\ Performance is a bluff of the * Messenger' to keep from tlu public the real motives of the murder, which it is pretty gen erally believed concerns some folks a little higher-toned than Sal. We mention no names, but we would like to know what the editor of the 'Messenger' was doing in the counting room of one oi Pete Dumphy's emissaries, at lo o'clock last evenint;. Looking up his bank account, eh? What's the size of tiie figures to-day? You hear us !" At one o'clock that morning the editor of the " Messsenger ' fired at the editor of the " Banner," and missed him. At hall l)ast one, two men were wounded by |)istol shots in a difficult\ at Brigg's warehouse — cause not stated. At nine o'clock, half a dozen men lounged down the main street and ascended the upper loft of Briggs's wareliouse. In ten or fifteen minutes, a dozen or more from diffen it saloons in the town, lounged a^ indifferently in the direction of Briggs's, until, at half-past nine, the assemblage in the loft numbered fifty men. During this interval a smaller party had gathered, apparently as accidental!\ and indefinitely as to purpose, on the steps of the Uttle two-stoi\ l)rick court-house in which the ])risoner was confined. At ten o'clock, a horse was furiously ridden into town, and dropped exhausted at the outskirts. A few moments later a man hurriedly crossed lii-^ plaza toward the court-house. It wa Mr. Jaefore, had put in his hands. It had perjilexed him for a moment that he heard the voices of some of these voters below him clamoring against him, but above their feebler pipe always rose another mandatory sentence, "We command you to lake and safely keej) the l)ody of Gabriel Conroy;" and, being a simple man, the recollection of the (luaint phraseology strengthened him and cleared his ni'nd. Ah me, I fear he had none of the external marks of a hero; as I remember him, l>e was small, indistinctive, and fidgety, without the repose of strength ; a man who at that extreme moment chewetl tobacco and spat vigorously on the floor ; who tweaked the ends of his scanty beard, paced the floor and tried the locks of his pistols Presently he stopi)ed before (iabriel and said, almost llercely, " you hear that ? they're coming." Gabriel nodded. Two hours befcyre, when the contemplated attack of the V'igilance Committee had been re/ealed to him, he had written a few lines to Lawyer Maxwell, whi( h he intrusted to the sheriff. He had then relapsed into his usual tran'|uillity- seri(;us, simple, and when he had occasion to speak, ditifident and apologetic. " Are you going to help me ?" c(mtinued Hall. " In course," said (iabriel, in (juiet surprise, " ef you say so. lUit don't ye do now't ez would be gettin' yourself into troubd .ilong o' me. I ain't worth it. Maybe it 'ud be jest as sijuare cfye handed me over to them (haps out yer allowin' I was a heap o' troubil to you- and reckonin' you'd about hed ivv/r sheer o^ the keer o' me, and kinder i])asssn' me round. But ef you do feel obligated to take keer o' me, ez hevin' promised the '«. ' t. I / -f *; 1, H!^ V ,• i I'^^.s- '0[ A; .1 . * J t;> 326 GABRIEL CONKOY. jedges and jury" (it is almost imj)ossihlc tt) convey the gemlt- deprccatoriness of (iabriel's voice and accent at this jun< turc). " why," he added, '* I am with ye. I'm thar ! You understanci me!" He rose slowly, and with cjuiet but powerfully significam deliberation placed the chair he had been sitting on bai k against the wall. The tone and act satisfied the sheriff, 'Iho seventy-four-gun ship, Gabriel Conroy, was clearing the dei k for action. There was an ominous lull in the outcries below, and then the solitary lifting up of a single voice, the Potential Voice (if the night before ! The sheriff walked to a window in the hall and opened it. The besieger and besieged measured each other with a look. Then came the Homeric chaff: " Git out o' that, Joe Hall, and run home to vour mother. She's getting oneasy about ye !" " The h — 11 you say !" responded Hall, jjromptly, -'^and the old woman in such a hurry she had to borry Al Barker's hat and breeches to come here ! Run home, old gal and don't parse yourself off for a man agin !" ** This ain't no bluff, Joe Hall ! Why don't ye call ? Yer's fifty men ; the returns are agin ye, and two ])recincts yet to hear from." (This was a double thrust : at Hall's former career as a gambler, and the closeness of his late election vote.) " All right, send 'em up by e.\[)ress— mark 'em C. O. I).'" (The previous speaker was the expressman.) "Blank you! (iit !" " Blank vou ! Come on !" Here there was a rush at the door, the accidental discharge of a pistol, and the window was slammed down. Words ceas- ed, deeds began. A few hours before. Hall had removed his prisoner from the uncertain tenure and accessible po&ition Ot the cells below to the open court-room of the second floor, inaccessible by win- dows, and lit by a skylight in the roof, above the reach of tlic crowd, whose massive doors were barricaded by benches and desks. A smaller door at the side, easily .secured, was K ft open for reconnoitering. The approach to the court-room was by a narrow stairway, half-way down whose length Gabriel had t \ JUSTICE AND THK HKAVEXS FALL. 327 thrust the loiip; ( (lurt-room tabk' .l^ a l)arri( adc to tlio l)csicgers. The lower (Kitcr door, senirod by the sheriff, after the desertion r.f his iinderlinL;s, soon began to show signs of weakening under the vigorous l)atlerv from withoiu. From tlie landing the two men watched it eagerly. As it slowly yielded, the sheriff drew nack toward the side door and be< koned (labriel to follow ; (tilt with a hasty sign (labriel suddeiilv sjjiang forward, and dropped beneath the table as the door with a crash fell inward, heaten from its hinges. There was a rush of trampling feet to the stairway, a cry of baftletl rage over the impeding table, a ^udden s< ramble U[) and upon it, and then, as if on its own volition, the long table suddenly reared itself on end, and, staggering a moment, toppled bai:kwnrd with its clinging human Durden, on the heads of the thronging mass below. There was a cry, a sudden stampede of the Philistines to the street, and Samson, rising to his feet, slowly walked to the side door, and re-entered the court room. But at the same instant an agile besieger, who, unnoticed, had crossed the Rubicon, darted from his concealment, and dashed by (iabriel into the room. There was a shout from the sheriff, the door was closed hastily, a shot and the intruder fell. Hut the next moment he staggered to his knees, with outstretched hands, *' Hold up ! I'm yer to help ye ! " It was Jack Hamlin I haggard, dusty, grimy; his gay feathers bedraggled, his tall hat battered, his sj)otless shirt torn open at the throat, his eyes and cheeks burning with fever, the blood dripping from the bullet wound in his leg, but still Jack Hamlin, strong and audacious. By a common instinct both men dropped their weapons, ran and lifted him in their arms. "There, shove ;hat chair under me! that'll do,'' said Hamlin ( oolly. '* We're even now, ]ov. Hall ; that shot wiped out old scores, even if it has crijjpled ir >.*«: JUSTICK ANIt rHK IIHAVANS lAIJ,. tlic sheriff, id, you'll be ink are you ten minute^ think of tin ; the surging )rs, the blows barricade ;i ^v pistol-shots And yet the vn, lifted the n infant, and, But he had a])sed heaviU id the railing, rs seemed to led, the heavy le plaster and :s fell through lything heard the hall, and , and all was er's whitened ives us time. (ldt?r that led rert;ding with rcase without g in the door . nd settled th^^ carrying Jaik through the himself from In another moment the shock had i)assed, and dabriel, i)iUting down lii.s burden, turned to open the door for the sheriff. lUit, to his alarm, it diil not yield to his pressure ; the earliU|uake had sealed it as it had the door below, and Joe Hall was left a prisoner. It was Gabriel's turn to hesitate and look at his companion but Jack was gazing into the street below. Then he looked uj) and said, ''We must go on now, Gabriel — for- for f/wyve i^ot a Imidir! " Gabriel rose again to his feet and lifted the wounded man The curve of the domed roof was slight ; in the (enter, on a rijugh cupola or base, the figure of Justice, fifteen feet high, rudely carved in wood, towered al)Ove them with drawn sword and dangling scales. Ciabriel reached the cu|)ola and < rouched behind it, as a shout arose from the street below that told he was discovered. A few shots were fired ; one bullet imbedded itself in the naked blade of the goddess, and antjlher with cruel irony shattered the equanimity of her Balance. •'Unwind the cord from me," said Hamlin. Gabriel did so. '' I'asten one end to the chimnev or the statue." But the chimney was leveled by the earthcjuake, and even the statue was trembling on its pedestal. (iabriel secured the rope to an iron girder of the skylight, and crawling on the roof, drojjped it cautiously over the gable. lUit it was several feet too short — too f:ir for a cripple to drop. to Hamlin. *' Vou must go first,'' he said quietly. over the gable. You can trust me." Without waiting for Hamlin's reply, under his arms and half-lifted, half dragged him to the gable. Then, pressing his hand silently, he laid himself down and lowered the 'vounded man safely to the ground. He had recovered the rope again, and, crawling to the cupola, was about to fasten the line to the iron girder, when scjmething slowly rose above the level of the roof l)eyond him. The up- rights of a ladder ! The Three Voices had got tired of waiting a reply to their oft reiterated question, and had mounted the ladder by way of w Gabriel crawled back I will hold the rope he fastened the rope (< i ; ■,.■ ,r i •■•■ \y' ■ .< I • . f*i':^. ■'' < f>j aao GAIJklKL CONROV. forcing art answer at the muzzles of tlicir revolvers. Tluy reached the level of the roof one after another, and again j)n)- ])Oiinded their inquiry. And then, as it seemed to their awe- stricken Hmcy, the only figure there — the statue of Justice - awoke to their appeal. Awoke! leaned toward them; advanced Its awful sword and shook its broken balance, and then, tojjplin^ forward, with one mighty impulse came down ujjon. them, swept them from the ladder and silenced the Voices forever ! And from behind its pedestal Gabriel arose, panting, pale, but triumphant. .,■ •■• < r ■•il' CHAPIER XLIII. IN TENEBRIS SKRVARE FIDKM. Although a large man, Gabriel was lithe and active, and dropped the intervening distance where the rope was scant, lightly, and without injury. Happily the falling of the statue was looked ujwn as the result of another earthquake shock, and its disastrous effect upon the storming party for a while checked the attack. Gabriel lifted his half-fainting ally in his arms, and, gaining the friendly shelter of the ditch, in ten minutes was beyond the confines of One Horse Gulch, and in the shadow of the pines of Conroy's Hill. There were several tunnel openings known onlyTto him. Luckily the first was partly screened by a fall of rock loosened by the earthquake from the hill above, and, satisfied that it would be unrecognized by any eyes less keen than his own, Gabriel turned into it with his fainting burden. And it was high time. P'or the hem- orrhage from Jack Hamlin's wound was so great that that gentleman, after a faint attempt to wave his battered hat above his disheveled curls, suddenly succumbed, and lay as cold and senseless and beautiful as a carved Apollo. Then Gabriel stripped him, and found an ugly hole in his thigh that had narrowly escaped traversing the femoral artery, IN TRNF.BRIS SKRVARK FIDEM. 831 ananion's bosom, and closed the collar of his shirt as Jack's lips moved. " Pete !" he called feebly. " It's his pardner, may be he's callin' on," said (iabriel to himself; then ahjud, with the usual, comforting, professional assent ; "In course, I'ete, surely ! He's coming, right off; he'll be yer afore ye know it." " Pete," continued Jack, forcibly, " take the marc off my leg, she's breaking it ! Don't you see ? She's stumbled ! Blast it, (juick I I'll be late! They'll string him up before I get there !" In a moment Gabriel's stout heart sank. If fever should set in, if he should become delirious, they would be lost. I'ro videntially, however, Jack's aberration was only for a nu^menl ; he presently opened his black eyes and stared at Oabriel. Gabriel smiled assuringly. "Am I dead and buried?" said Jack gravely, looking around the dark vault, " or have I got 'em again." " Ye wuz took bad fur a minit, that's all," said Gabriel, re- assuringly, much relieved himself; " yer all right now !" Hamlin tried to rise, but could not. " That's a lie," he said cheerfully, " What's to be done ?" " Ef you'd let me hev my say, without gettin' riled," said Gabriel apologetically, " I'd tell ye. Look yer," he continued persuasively, " ye ought to hev a doctor afore that wound gels inflamed; and ye ain't goin' to get one, bein' packed round by me. Now don't ye tlare up, but harkin ! Allowin' I goes (ut to them chaps ez is huntin' us, and sez, 'Look yer, you kin take me, provided ye don't bear no malice agin my friend, and }im sends a doctor to fetch him outer the tunnel.' Don't yer sec, they can't prove anythin' agin ye, anyway," continued Gabriel, :•■ ■ .1 i •*-j*t! IN IKNKHRIS SKRVARK HDl M. 3X] swear I took you witli .1 look of the intcnscst cunning; " I'll pris'ner, and Joe won't go hack on In's shot." In spite of his pain and danger, this j)rof)osition affoided Jack Hamlin apparently tiie largest enj(^ynieni. " Thank ye," he said with a smile ; " hut as there's a warrant hy this time out against nic for horse-stealing, I re( kon I won't put myself in the way of their nursing. I'liey might forgive you for killing a Mexican of no great market value ; hut they ain't goin' to extend the right hand of fellowshi[) to me after running off their ringleader's mustang! Particularly when that aniiual's foundered and knee-sprung. No, sir !" (lahriel stared at his companion without speaking. " I was late coming hack with Oily to Wingdam, I had to swap the horse and huggy for the mare without having time to arrange particulars with the owner. I don't won I «' for an hour yet. Well," lie continued impatiently, as (^labnVj, after improvising a rude couch for him with some withered jtiiu' tassels feathered at the mouth of the tunnel, sat down hesiih him, "are you goin' to hore me to tle.uh, now that you've j^di nic hero — sittin' there like an owl? Why don't you say some- thing?" "Sav what?" asked (lahriel siniplv. " Anything! i,ie if you want to; only talk !" " I'd like to put a (juestion to ye, Mr, Hamlin," said r/altrid. with great gentleness — "allowin' in course, ye'll answer, or no, jest ez agree'hie to yc -reckonin' it's no business o' mine, nor pryin' into secrets, on'y jess to pass away the time ontil sun down. When you was tuk bad a spell ago, unloosin* yer shirt thar, I got to see a picter that ye hev around yer neck. I ain't askin' who nor which it is, but on'y this — ez thet — thet — tlict young woman dark-complected ez that picter allows her to be ?'' Jack's face had recovered its color by the time that (Jabric! had fmished, and he answered promjHly : " A derned sight more ! Why, that picture's fair alongside of her!" ('xabriel looked a little disappointed. Hamlin was instantly up in arms. " Yes, sir; and when I say that," he returned, " I mean, hy thunder, that the whitest-faced woman in the world don't beuin to be as handsome. Thar ain't an angel that she couldn't give points to and beat I That's /wr style ! It don't," continued Mr. Hamlin, taking the picture from his breast, and wij)ing its face with his handkerchief — ** it don't begin to do her justi( e. What," he asked suddenly and aggressively, "havejw/ got to say about it, any way?" " 1 reckened it kinder favored my sister Grace," said Gabriel, submissively. ^' Ve didn't know her, Mr. Hamlin ? She was lost sence '49 — thet's all !" Mr. Hamlin measured Gabriel with a contempt that was delicious in its sublime audacity and unconsciousness. " Your sister ? " he repeated ; " that's a healthy lookin' s/>/rr of such a man as you, ain't it? Why, look at it," roared Jack, thrusting the picture qnder Ciabricl's nose ; •' why it's — it's a INf riNKURIS SKRVARK FIDF.M. Xih " Yc mus'n't jc(lf,'c (Iracy hy mo, nor oven Oily," interposed (Vihriel i^ently, evadini; Mr. Hamlin's contempt. J{m ja( k was not to bo appeased. *' Does your sister sing like an anj^el, and talk S[)anish like Governor Alvarado ? Is she < (;nne( led with one of the oldest Spanish families in the State? Does she run a rancho and thirty scjuaro leagues of land, and is Dolores Salvatierra her nickname.^ Is her complexion like the yc.nmg hark of the madrono the most beautiful thing ever .soon? Did every other woman look chalky beside her, eh?" *' No ! " said (iabriel, with a sigh ; " it was just my foolish- ness, Mr. Hamlin. Hut seein' that picter, kinder — " " 1 stole it," interrupted Jack with the same frankness. '* I saw it in her parlor, on the table, and I froze to it when no one was looking. Lord, s/ic wouldn't have given it to ///<'. I reckon those rel.iLJves of hers would have made it very lively for me if they suspected it. Hoss stealing ain't a circumstance U) this, dabriel," said Jack, with , reckless laugh. Then, with e(iual frankness, and a picturcs({ue freedom of description, ho related his first and t)nly interview with Donna Dolores. [ am glad to say that this scamp exaggerated, if anything, the hoi)e- lessness of his case, dwelt but slightly on his own services, and concealed the fact that Donna Dolores had even thanked him. " You can reckon from this the extejit of my affection tor that Johnny Ramirez, and why I just froze to you when I heard you'd dropped him. IJut come now, it's your deal ; tell us all about it. The boj's ))ut it up that ho was hangin' round your wife, and you went for him for all ho was worth, do on, I'm waiting, and — " added Jack, as a spasm of pain passed across his face, "and aching to that degree that I'll yell if you don't take my mind off it." Rut Gabriel's face was grave, and his lii)s silent as he bent over Mr. Hamlin to adjust the bandages. " (io on," .said Jack, darkly, "or I'll tear off those rags and bleed to death before your eyes. What are you afraid of? I know all about your wife ; you can't tell me anything about her. Didn't I spot her in Sacramento -before she married you — when she hod this same ("hilino, Ramirez, on a string. Why :^he's fooled him as she has you. You ain't s'ich a blasted fool a; > as k '. ,■ ,1 v' 33G garrie;- conroy. la V >"-• >, ■ ••.1 •i? •■•• '. to be struck nfler her still, are you?" and Jack raised himscll on his ell)o\v the more intently to regard this possibly tran^ cendcnt idiot. " Vou was speakin' o' this Mexican, I^amiro,;," said Gabriel, after a ])ause, fixing his now clear and untroubled eyes on his interlocutor. '• 0\ course," roared out Jack, impatiently ; " did you think J was talking of ?" Here Mr. Hamlin offered a name that suggested the most com))lete and perfect antithesis known to modern reason. " I didn t kill him !" .said Gabiiel, quietly. " Of course not," said Jack, i)rom,)tly. " Ho sorter stumbled and fell over on your bowie knife as you were i)ickin' your teeth with it. But go on. How did you do it ? Where did you spot him ? Did he make any fight ? Has he got any sand in him?" " I tell ye I didn't kill him !" "Who did then?' screamed Jack, furious with pain and impatience. "1 don't know; I reckon — that is — " and Gabriel stopjjcd short, with a wistful, ])erplcxcd lovok at his companion. *' Perhajjs, Mr. Gabriel Conroy," said Jack, with a sudden coolness and deliberation of speech, and a baleful light in his dark eyes — " perhaps you'll be good enough to tell me what this means— what /,v your little game? Perhaps you'll kindly inform me what I'm lying here crippled for; what you were doing up in that court-house, v.'hen you were driving those peo])le crazy with excitement ; what you're hiding here in this blank family vault for ; and, maybe, if you've got time, yo"'Il tell me what was the reason I made that pleasant little trip to Sacramento? I know I reiiuired the exercise, and then there was the honor of being introduced to your little sister; but perhaps you'll tell me VVHAT IT WASFOR!" " Jack," said (iabriel, leaning forward, with a sudden return of his old trouble and perj)lexity. " I thought s/ie did it ! and thinkin' that -when they asked me — I took it upon myself} I didn't allow to ring you into this, Jack! I thought— 1 thought — thct -it 'ud all be one ; thct they'd hang me uj) afoic th'^, I did, Jack, honest !'' I, IN IKNEr.RlS SERVARE FIDF.M. ith iJciin and "And you didn't kill Ramirez?" " No." " And you reckoned your wiie did ?" " Yes/' " And you took the thing on ycursclf ?" ' I did.' " Vou did!" " 1 did." "You DID?'' "I did." Mr. Hamlin rolled over on his back, and began to whistle " When the spring time conies, gentle Annie !" iis the only way of expressing his inordinate contemj)t for the whole proceeding. (iabriel slowly slid his hand under Mr. Kamlin's helpless hack, and, under pretext of arranging his bandages, lifted him in his arms like a truculent babe : " Jack," he said, softly, '• ef thet picter of yours — thet colored woman — " " Which !" said Jack, fiercely, " I mean — thet i)urty creetur — ef she and you had been married, and you'd found out accidental hke that she'd fooled ye — more belike, Jack," he added, hastily, " o' /our own fooh'sh- ness, than her littU game— and" " 27ia/ woman was a lady," interruj)ted Jack, sav.agely, "and your wife's a- " But he paused, looking into (lalmel's face, and then added: " O git ! will you! Leave me alone! ' f want to be an angel, and with the angels stand.' " "And thet woman hez a secret," continued Clabriel, unmind- ful of the interruption, " and, bein' hounded by the man a/, knows it, up and kills him, ye would'nt let thet woman — thet poor pooty creetur — suffer for it ! No, Jack! Ye would rather pint your own toes up to the sky than do it. It ain't in ye. Jack, and it ain't in me, so help me God !" " This is all very touching, Mr. Conroy, and does credit, sir, to your head and heart, and 1 kin feel it drawing Hall's ball (niter my leg while you'ie talkin'," said Jack, with his bla( k eyes evading Gabriel's, and wandering to the entrance of the tunnel. "What time is it, you blasted old fool, ain't it dark enough }cl to git outer this hole .-*" 338 GABRIEL CONROY. A. ■;. 4" • • i ' .• ..■"4- •«'>>. He groaned, and, after a ])ause, added, fiercely : " How do you know your wife did it ?" Gal)riel swiftly, and, for him, even concisely, related the events of the day, from his meeting with Raniire-'C in the morning, to the time that he had stumbled upon the body of Victor Ramirez on his return to keep the appointment at his wife's written request. Jack only interrupted him once to inquire why, after discover- ing the murder, he had not gone on to keep his appointment. " I thought it wa'n't of no use," said (Jabriel simj^ly ; " I didn't want to let her see I know'd it." Hamlin groaned, " If you had you would have found her in the company of the man who did do it, you daddering old idiot." "Whatman?" asked (labriel. " The first man you saw your wife with that morning ; the man I ought to be helping now instead of lyin' here." " You don't mean to allow, Jack, ez you reckon she didnt do it?" asked Gabriel in alarm. " I do," said Hamlin, coolly. "Then what did she reckon to let on by thct note?" said Gabriel with a sudden look of cunning. " Don't know," returned Jack ; " like as not, being a blasted fool, you didn't read it right ! Hand it over and let me see it." Gabriel (hesitatingly): " I can't." Hamlin : " You can't?" Gabriel (apologetically): " I tore it up." Hamlin (with frightful deliberation): "Youdtd?" " I did." Jack (after a long and crushing silence): " Were you evci under medical treatment for these spells?" Gabriel (with great simplicity and submission): " They allcrs used to allow I waz queer." Hamlin (after another pause): " Has Pete Dumphy got any- thing agin you?" Gabriel (surprisedly): "No." Hamlin (languidly): •' It was his right hand man, his agent at Wingdam, that started up the Vigilantes ! X ncard hnn and -,0,^ him in the crowd hounding 'em on." ^r^ •'/ IN TEN?-r.RIS FKRVAKi: FIDF-M. 339 note?" said Gabriel (simply): "I reckon you're out thar, Jack ; Ouniphy's my friend. It was him that first gin me the money to oi)en this yer mine. And I'm his superintendent !" Jack: *' Oh !"— (after another ))ause) "Is there any first- class Lunatic Asylum in this country, where they would tiAke in two men, one an incurable, and the other sufferin' from a gun- shot wound brought on by playin' with fire-arms?" Gabriel (with a deep sigh): " Ye mus'n't talk. Jack, ye must be quiet till dark." Jack, dragged down by pain, and exhausted in the intervals of each paroxysm, was quiescent. Gradually, the faint light that had filtered through the brush and de'bris before the tunnel faded (juite away, and a damp channel-house chill struck through the liml>s of the two refugees and made them shiver; the flow of water from the drii)i)ing walls seemed to have increased ; Gabriel's experienced eye had already noted that the earthquake had a])j)arently opened seams in the gully and closed uj) one of the leads. He care- fully laid his burden down again, and crept to the opening. The distant hum of voices and occui)ation had ceased, the sun was s-^tting; in a few moments, calculating on the brief twilight of the mountain region, it would be dark, and they might with safety leave their hiding-place. As he was returning, he noticed a slant beam of light, hitherto unobserved, crossing the tunnel from an old drift. Examining it more closely, Gabriel was amazed to find that during the earthquake a " cave" had taken jilace in the drift, j)ossil)ly precipitated by the shock, disclosing the more surprising fact that there had been a i)revious .slight but positive excavation on the hill-side, above the tunnel, that antedated any record of One Horse (iulch known to Ciabriel. He was perfectly familiar with every foot of the hill-side, and the existence of this ancient prospecting " hole " had never been even suspected by him. While he was still gazing at the openings, his foot struck against some glittering metallic substance. He stooped and picked up a small tin (an, not larger than a sardin^> box, hermetically sealed and soldered, on which some inscription had been traced, but which he could not deci]iher for the darkness of the timnel. In the laint hope that it might contain something of benefit to his com[)anionj I » * ■ '• f: ■ .< < 310 GAHRIF.r. CONROY. (ial:)ricl returned to tlie oi)ening and even ventured to step be yond its shadow. But all attempts to read the inscription were in vain. He opened the box with a sharp stone ; it contained, to his great disappointment, only a memorandum-book and some ])apers. He swept them into the pockets of his blouse, and re-entered the tunnel. He had not l)een absent, altogether, more than five minutes, but when he reached the place where he had left Jack, he was gone I »-/-^ ]■"* ' i • ■ 1 1) - ■ ■. * ! -' t , 1 1 .. ■'■ ■ -V ■ ' _ 4 f'-'i t ■-'r \ \f 'is • ••; \ ..£;".!- 1^' -0 CHAPTER XLIV. IN WHICH HECTOR ARISES FROM THE DITCH, He Stood for a moment l^reathless and paralyzed with sur- prise ; then he began slowly and deliberately to examine the tunnel step by step. When he had proceeded a hundred feet from the spot, to his great relief he came upon Jack Hamlin, sitting ui)right in a side-drift. His manner was feverish and exvited, and his declaration that he had not moved from the jilace where (labriel I'vad left him, at once was accepted by the latter as the aberration of incipient inflai..mation and fever. When Gabriel stated that it was time to go, he replied, " Yes," and added with such significance that his business with the murderer of Victor Ramirez was now over, and that he was ready to enter the Lunatic Asylum at once, that Gabriel with great precipitation lifted him in his arms and carried him with- out delay from the tunnel. Once more in the open air, the energies of both men seemed to rally ; Jack became as a mere feather in Gabriel's powerful arms, and even forgot his querul ous opposition to being treated as a heljjless child, while Ga- briel trod the familiar banks of die ditch, climbed the lonu ascent and threaded the aisles of the pillared i)ines ot Reservoir Hill with the free experienced feet of the mountaineer. Here (iabriel knew he was safe until daybreak, and gathered together some withered pine boughs and fragrant fine tassels for a couch i i%|^f"; ^(^ HKCTOU ARISKS FROM THK IH KH. :mi for his helpless companion. And here, as he feared, fever set in; the respiration of the wounded man <;r<,'vv <|ui(k and hur ried; he began to talk rapidly and in< oherently, of Oily, ol Kamirez, of the beautiful girl whose jjicture hung upon his breast, of (labriel himself, and finally of a strange'" who was, as it seemed to him, his sole auditor, the gratuitous coinage of his own *'anc.y. Once or twice he raised his voice to a shout, and then, to Oabriel's great alarm, suddenly he began to sing, and, hefore (iabriel could i)lace his hand upon his mouth, he had trolled out the verse of a popular ballad. The rushing river below them gurj^led, beat its bars, and sang an accomiKuiiment; the swaying ])ine sighed and creaked in unison; the patient stars above them stared and bent breathlessly, and then, to (labriel's exalted consciousness, an echo of the wounded man's song arose from the gukh below. For a moment he held his breath with an awful mingling of joy and fear. Was he going mad too .'* or was it really ihe voice of little Oily ? The delirious man bes'de him answered his query with another verse; the antijjhonal response rose again from the valley. Gabriel hesitated no longer, but with feverish hands gathered a few dried twigs and [)ine cones into a pile, and touched a match to them. At the next moment they flashed a beacon to the sky, in another there was a crack- ling of the underbrush and the hurried onset of two figures, and before the slow (Iabriel could recover from his astonish ment, Oily flew, panting, to his arms, while her comi)anion, the faithful Pete, sank Ijreathlessly beside his wounded and inscn sible master. Oily was first to find her speech. That si)eech, after the un failing instincts of her sex, in moments of excitement, was the instant arraignment of somebody else as the cause of that ex- <:itement, and at once put the whole universe on the defensive. " Why didn't you send word where you was," she said im- patiently, "and wot did you have it so dark for, and up a steejj hill, and leavin' me alone at Yv'ingdam, and why didn't you call without singin'?" And then Gabriel, after the fashion of his sex, ignored all but the present, and holding Oily in his arms, said : k , !:>:. 342 GAHUIKL CONROV. .♦ .' f ; ■ " It's my little girl, ain't it, come to her own brother (iabc! Ijless her !" Whereat, Mr. Hamlin, after the fashion of lunatics of any sex, must needs be consistent, and break out again into song. *' He's looney. Oily, what with fever along o' bein' shot in the leg .i:-savin' me, ez isn't worth savi. '," explained (jabricl. apologetically. " It was him ez did the singin'." Then Oily, still following the feminine instinct, at once de- -erted conscious rectitude for indefensible error, and flew u> \h. Hamlin's side. " Oh, where is he hurt, Pete? is he going to die?" And Pete, susi)icious of any medication but his own, replied doubtfully : " He looks bad, Miss Oily, dat's a fac' — but now l^eing in my han's, bress de Lord A'mighty, and* we able to minister to him, we hopes for de bess. Your brudder meant well, is a fair-meanin' man. Miss — a tol'able nuss, but he ain't got the I^eerfeshn'! knowledge that Mars Jack in de habit o' gettin'." Here Pete unslung from his shoulders a wallet, and pro- ceeded to extract therefrom a small medicine case, with the resigned air of the family physician, who has been called full late to remedy the practice of rustic empiricism. " How did ye come yer? " asked Gabriel of Oily, when he had submissively transferred his wounded charge to Pete, "What made you allow I was hidin'yer? Hovr did you reckon to find me? but ye was alius peart and onhanded, Oily," he suggested, gazing admiringly at his sister. " When I woke up at Wingdam, after Jack went away, who should I find, Gabe, but Lawyer Maxwell standin' thar, and askin' me a heap o' (piestions. I sui)posed you'd been mr.kin' a fool o' yourself agin, Gabe, and afore I let on that I know'd a word, I jist made him tell me everythin' about you, Gabe, and it was orful ! and you bein' arrested for murder, ez wouldn't harm a fly, let alone that Mexican ez I never liked, Gabe, and all this comes of tendin' his legs instead o' lookin' arter me. And all them questions waz about Jul), and whether she wasn't your enemy, and if they ever waz a woman, Gabe, ez waz sweet on you, you know it was July ! And all thet kind of foolish- ness ! And then when he couldn't get ennythin' out o' me HKCTOR ARISES FROM THK DITCH. 843 jther Oabe ! ag.in July, he allowed to Pete that he must take me right to you, fur he said they waz talk o' the Vigilantes gettin' hold o' ye :\fore the trial, and he was goin' to get an oriler to take you outer the county, and he reckoned they wouldn't dare to tech ye if I waz with ye, (Jabe — aad J'd like to see cm try it ! and he allowed to I'ele that he must take me right to you ! and Pete — and there ain't a v hiter nigger livin' than that ole man — said he would — reckonii', you know, to fmJ Jack, as he allowed to me they'd hev to kill afore they got you, — and he came down yer with me. And when we got yer, you was off, and the sheriff gone, and the Vigilantes — what with bein' killed, the biggest o' them by the earth(|uake — what was orful, Gabe, but we bein' on the road didn't get to feel ! — jest scared outer their butes ! And then a Chinyman gin us yer note — " "My note?" interrupted Ciabriel, "I didn't send ye any note." " Then /lis note," said Oily impatiently, pointing to Hamlin, *' sayin' ' You'il lind your friends on Conroy's Hill ! '--don't you see, Gabe?" continued Oily, stamping her foot in fury at her brother's slowness of comprehension, "and so we came and heard Jack's singin', and a mighty foolish thing it was to do, and yer we are." " But he didn't send any note, Oily," persisted Gabriel. " Well, you awful old Gabe, what difference does it make 7c>/io sent it ? " continued the practical Oily ; " here we are along o' thet note, and," she added, feeling in her pocket, " There's the note ! " She handed (^abriel a sniall slip of paper with the penciled words, " You'll tind your friends waiting for you to-night on Conroy's Hill." The hand writing was unfomiliar, but even if it were Jack's, how did /le manage to send it without Iiis knowledge ? He had not lost sight of Jack, excei)t during the few moments he had reconnoitered the mouth of the tunnel, since they had escaped from the court-house. Gabriel was ]ierplexed ; in the presence ot this anonymous note he was confused and speechless, and could only pass his hand helplessly across his forehead. "But it's all right now, Gabe," continued Oily, reassuringly; •' the Vigilantes have run away — -what's left of them ; th j sheriff ft '* h^A t, 344 riAHRIKI, CONKOV. ' <• ., >• /".! i- ■ 'Ill .f'i: ,\ 3*.' , ain't to be found no\vl)nr ! This ycr cailhhysical adjustment no mental excitement could possibly over throw, and whose regular habits veu' never broken by anxiety, nodded, even while holding Oily's hand, and in due time .slej^t. and I regret to say-writing of a hero- snored ! Vfter a \vhi!<- Oily herself succumbed to the drcA'sy coolness of tlie night, and wrapped in Mr. Haailin's shawl, pillowed her head upon her brother's broad breast and slept too. Only Pete remained to keep the watch, he being comjjaratively fresh and strong, and declaring that the condition of Mr. Hamlin retjuired his constant attention. It was after midnight diat Oily dreamed a troubled dream HECTOR ARISES FROM THE DITCH. 345 (lahricl was jlcd dream She thought that she was riding with Mr. Hamh'n to seek her l)rothcr, when she suddenly came upon a crowd of excited men, who were hearing (iubriel to the gallows. She thought that she turnetl to Mr. Hamlin frantically for assistance, when she saw, to her horror, that his face had changed — that it was no longer he who sat beside her, but a st:ange, wild-looking, haggard man — a man whose face was old and i)inchcd, but >vli()sc gray hair was discolored by a faded dye that had worn .tway, leaving the original color in patches, and the antique foppery of whose dress was deranged by violent exertion, and grimy with the dust of travel — a dandy whose strapi)ed trowsers of a by-gone fashion was ridiculously loosened in one leg, whose high stock was unbu<:kled and awry ! She awoke with a start. Even then, her dream was so vivid that it seemed to her this face was actually bending over her with such a pathetic earnestness and inquiry, that she called aloud. It was some minutes before Pete came to her, but as he averred, albeit some- wlial incoherently, and rubbing his eyes to show that he had closed them, that he had never slept a wink, and that it was impossible for any stranger to have come upon them without his knowledge, Oily was obliged to accept it all as a dream ! Hut she (lid not .sleej) again. She watched the moon slowly sink behind the serrated pijics of (^onroy's Hill; she listened to the crackling tread of strange animals in the underbrush, to the far-off rattle of wheels on the VVingdam turnpike, until the dark outline of the tree-trunks returned, and with the cold fires of the mountain sunrise *' chilly tree-tops awoke to winged life, and the twitter of bird . , while the faint mists of the river lingered with the [)aling moon, like tired sentinels for the relief of the coming day. And then Oily awoke her companions. They struggled back into consciousness with characteristic exi)ressions, Gabriel slowly and apologetically, as of one who had overslept himself; Jack Hamlin violently and aggressively, as if some unfair advantage had been taken of his human weakness, that it was necessary to combat at once. I am sorry to say that his recognition of Pete was accompanied by a degree of profanity and irreverence that was dangerous to his own physical weakness. " And you had to trapse down yer, sniffin' about my tracks, yoii black and tan idiot," continiied Mr. Hamlin, raising % ' :j4() r.AMRlKL (ONkoV. >> V ■ . •: ) ■■•• . himself on his arm, "and alter I'd Icll cvcr\ thing all straight ,ii Wingdam and jest as I was beginning to reform and le.ul a new life ! How do, Oily ! \'ou"ll excuse me not rising, (dine and kiss me ! if tiiat nigger 6f mine has let you want for anv thing, jest tell me and I'll discharge him. Well I blank it alJ! what are you waitin' for? Here it's daybreak and we've got to get down to the liead of Reservoir (julch. ( !ome, little c.hildmi. the jjicnic is over ! " Thus adjured (iabriel rose, and, lifting Mr. Hamlin in Iii^ arms with iiifiiiite care and tenderness, headed the (luamt procession. Mr. Hamlin, ])erha|)s recognizing some absurdity in the situation, foicbore exercising his (juerulous profanity on the man who held iiim helpless as an infant, and Oily and l*ete followed slowly behind. Their way led down Reservoir Canon, beautiful, hopeful, and bracing in the early morning air. A few birds, awakened by the ])assing tread, started into song a moment, and then were still. With a cautious gentleness, habitual to the man, Gabriel forbore, as he strode along, to step upon the few wood- land blossoms yet left to the dry summer woods. There was a strange fragrance in the air, the light odors liberated from a thousand nameless herbs, the faint melancholy si)icery of dead leaves. There was, moreover, that sense of novelty whi( h Nature always brings with the dawn in deep forests ; a faiK \ that during the night the earth had been created anew, and was fresh from the .NFaker's hand, as yet untried by burden or tribulation, and guiltless of a Past. And so it seemed to the little caravan, albeit lleeing from danger and death, that yes- terday and its fears were far away, or had, in some unaccounta ble manner, shrunk beliind them in the west M'ith the swifdv dwindling night. Oily once or twice strayed from the trail to pick an opening flower or lingering berry ; Pete hummed to himself the fragment of an old camp-meeting song. And so they walked on, keei)ing the rosy dawn and its promise before them. l'"rom time to time the sound of faroft" voices came to them faintly. Slowly the light ([uickenctl; morning stole down the hills upon them stealthily, and at h>\ the entrance of tlie canon became dimly outlined. Oily utter- ed a shout and pointed to a black object moving backward and \' HECTOR ARISF.S FROM THF DIICH. 347 forward before the opening. It was the wagon and team await- ini; tliem. Olly's shout was answered by a whistle from the driver, and they quickened their pace joyfully; in another moment they would be beyond the reach of danger. .Suddenly a voice that seemed to start from the ground b( tore them called on (iabriel to stop ! He did so uncon- S( lously, drawing Hamlin closer to him with one hand, and with the other making a broad, protecting sweep toward Oily. And then a figure rose slowly from the ditch at the roadside and barred their passage. It was only a single man ! A small man bespattered with the slime of the ditch and torn with brambles; a man exhaust- ed with fatigue and tremulous with nervous excitement, but slill erect and threntening. A man whom (labricl imO Hamlin instantly recognized even through his rags and exhaustion ! It was Joe Hall, the sheriff of Calaveras ! He held a i)istol in his right hand even while his left exhaustedly sought the sup- port of a tree ! By a common instinrt both men saw that while the hand was feeble the muzzle of the weapon covered them *' Gabriel Conroy, T want you," said the apparition. " He*s got us lined ! Drop me," whis[)ered Hamlin hastily, drop me ! It'll spoil his aim." But Gabriel, by a swift, dexterous movement that seemed incompatible with his usual deliberation, instantly transferred llamlm to his other arm, and with his burden completely shielded, presented his own right shoulder squarely to the muzzle of Hall's revolver. " (iabriel Conroy, you are my prisoner," repeated the voice. (jabriel did not move. But over his shoulder as a rest, droj;i)e(l the long shining barrel of Jack's own favorite duelling pistol, and over it glanced the bright eyes of its crippled owner. The issue was joined ! There was a deathlike silence. " Go on ! " said Jack quietly. " Keep cool, Joe. For if ynu miss him, you're gone in ; and hit or miss /'I'e got you sure ! " The barrel of Hall's pistol wavered a moment, from physical weakness but not from fear. The great heart bi-hind it, though broken, was still undaunted. '* It's all right,'" said the voice t. « ' 348 r.AHKIF.I, CONROY. •> « 4 I •> lalciully. " It's all ri-lit, Jade ! Yc'il kill mc, I know ! Hut ye can't help sayin' arter all that I did my duty to Calaveras as the sheriff, and 'specially to them fifty men ez elc( ted me over lioggs ! I ain't goin' to let ye pass. I've been on this yor hunt, uj) and down this canon all night. Hevin' no possy 1 reckon I've got to die yer in my tracks. All right ! Hut ye'll get into that wagon over my dead body, Jack ; over my dead body, oure." Even as he s|)oke these words he straightened himself to his full height which was not much, I fear — and steadied himself by the tree, his weapon still advanced and pointing at (labriel, but with such a palpable and hopeless contrast between his determination and his evident inability to execute it, that his attitude impressed his audience less with its heroism than its half-pathetic absurdity. Mr. Hamlin laughed. But even tlun he suddenly felt the ,ii;rasp of Gabriel relax, found himself slip ping to his companion's feet, and the next moment was dc posited carefully but ignominiously on the ground by (Tabricl, who strode quietly and composedly up to the muzzle of the sherift's pistol. " I'm ready to go with ye, Mr. Hall," he said, gently, putting the pistol aside with a certain large indifferent wave of the hand — " ready to go with ye — now — at onct ! But I've one little favor to ax ye. This yer pore young man, ez yur wound ed, unbeknownst," he said, pointing to Hamlin, who was writh ing and gritting his teeth in hel])less rage and fury, " ez not to be tuk with me, nor for me ! Thar ain't nothing to be doiit to him. He hez been dragged inter this fight. But I'm read} to go with ye now, Mr. Hall, and am sorry you got into the troubil along o' me." • 1 CHAPTER XLV. IN THE TRACK OF A STOR.\f. A QUARTER of an hour before the messenger of Peter Dum- phy had jgftched Foinsett's ofifice, Mr. Poinsett b.id received a IN IIIK IKACK OV A sroRM. a49 ry, " ez not to more urgent niL'ssago. A tclcgrapli dispatrh from San Antonio li;i(l been |)iit into his hands. Its few curt words, more signifi- cant to an imaginative man than rhetorical expression, ran as litllows : " Mission Church destroyed. Father Felipe safe. Bks-.ed Trinity in ruins anil Dolores nussinjj. My house spare*!. Come al once. Makia .SkI'UI.VIDA." The following afternoon at four o'clock Arthur Poin.sett reached San (ieronimo, within fifteen miles of his de.stination. Here the dispat()se him step by step — a wiuvl so persistent and gratuitous that it appeared to Arthur to possess a moral (juality, and, as such, was to be y\. !'■ • * ' • ' .t -r^> . -> <■ ■ 'Vr: t' ■' 350 GABRlr:l, OONKOV. :.'-3. resisted and overcome by \\\., su})erior will. Here, at least, ;ill was undMnged ; here was the dead, flat monotony of land ; nd skv. Here was the brittle, harsh stubljle of the summer fields, sun-baked and wind-dried: here were the lonj."- -"retches ot silence, from wl'iich even the harrying wind made no opposition or complaint; here were (y\t formless specks of slowly moviiii; cattle even as he remembered them before. A momentar\ chill came over him as he recalled his own perilous exi)efien(f on these plains, a momentary glow suffused his cheek as he thought of his rescue by tiie lovely but cold recluse. Again he heard the name of " Philip " softly whispered in his ears, again he felt the flood of old memories sweej) over him as he rode, even as he had felt them when he lay that day panting upon the earth. And yet Arthur had long since convinced h.^s mind that he was misiaken in supi)osing that Donna Dolon^s had addressed him at that extreme moment as " Philip;" he had long since believed it was a trick of his disordere 1 and ex hausted brain; the conduct of Dolores toward himself, habitu. ally restrained by grave courtesy, never justified h'm in directly asking the (question, nor suggested any familiarity that might have made it probable. She had never alluded to it again — but had apparendy forgotten it. Not so Arthur I He had often gone over that meuKjrable scene, with a strange, tor- menting pleasure that was almost a pain, it was the one inci- dent of his life, for whose poetry he was not immediately re- sponsible — the one genuine heart-thrill whose sincerity he had not afterward stopped to question in his critical fashion — the one enjoyment that had not afterward a])peared mean and dc lusive. And now the heroine of this episode was missing, and he might never perhaps see her again ! And yet, when he first heard the news, he was con^'ious of a strange sense of relief— rather let me say of an awakening from a dream, that, though delicious, had become dangerous and might unfit hiin for the ])ractical duties of his life. Donna Dolores had never affected liim as a real personage — at least the interest he felt in her was, he had always considered, due to her relations to some romantic condition of his mind, and her final disa])pearan( c from the plane of his mental vision, was only the exit of an actress from the min-.ic stage. It seemed only natural that she 4 \ • <• IN rilF. TRACK. OF A S'lOKM. 351 nIiouUI disappear as mysterously as she canie. There was no ^liock even to tlie instincts of his ordinary Iiu inanity it was no catastrophe involving loss of life, or even suffering' to the subject or spectator. Such, at least, was NFr. Poinsett's analysis of his own mental condition on the receipt of Donna Maria's telegram. It was the cool self-examination of a man who believed himself (old-blooded and selfish, superior to die weakness of ordinary humanity, and yet was conscious of neither pride nor disgrace in the belief. Yet when he diverged from his direct road to the Mission, and turned his horse's head toward the home of Donna Dolores, he was conscious of a new impulse and anxiety that was stronger than his reaso... Unable as he was to resist il, he took some satisfaction in believing that it was nearly akin to that feeling which, years before, had driven him back to Starvation Camp in (juest of the survivors. wSuddenly liis horse recoiled vvijLh a liound that would have unseated a less skillful rider. Directly across his jjath stretched a chasm in the level plain -thirty feet bnjad and as many feet in depth, and at its liottom, in undistinguisliable confusion, lay the wreck of the corral of the IJlessed Trinity ! lCxcei)t for the enormous si/e and depth of this fissure, Arthur might have mistaken it for the characteristic cracks in the sun-burnt plain, which the long, dry summer had wrought upon its surface, some of which were so broad as to task the agility of his horse. But a second glance convinc:ed him of the different character of the phenomenon. The earth had not < racked asunder nor separated, but had sunk. The width of llie chasm belov/ was nearly ecpial to the witUh above; the tloor of this valley in miniature was car[)eted by the same dry, brittle he*"bs and grasses which grew U[)on the plain around him. In the preoccupation of the last hour he had forgotten the (h'stanc:e he had traversed. He had evidently ridden faster than he had imagined. Hut if this was reallv the corral, the walls of the Rancho should now be in sight at the banse of the mountain ! Fie turned in that direction. Nothing was to be seen I Only the monotonous i)lain stretched before him, vast imd unbroken Ijctweeu the c luii^m where he stcjod and the * \, ' » ', • ' '. I "./ ■ ':U, .* ".'.••• i i ' • V'' '■ 'A'- ::r)2 GAllUlF.t, CONROV. /a/(/(i of the first low foot-hills, neither roof nor wall nor ruin rose above the dull, dead level ! An ominous chill ran through his veins, and for an instant the reins slipped through his relaxed fingers. Good (}od ! Could this have been what Donna Maria meant, or had there been a later convulsion of nature? He looked around him. The vast, far-stretching plain, desolate and trackless as the shining ocean beyond, took upon itself an awful likeness to that element ! Standing on the brink of the revealed treachery of that yawning chasm, Arthur Poinsett read the fate of the Rancho. In the storm that had stirred the depths of this motionless level, the Rancho and its miserable inmates had foinidered and gone down ! Artliur's first impulse was to push toward the scene of the disaster, in the vague hope of rendering some service. But the chasm before him was impassable, and seemed to continue to the sea beyond. Then he reflected that the catastrophe briefly told in Donna Maria's dispatch had hap])ened twenty- four hours before, and helj) was perhai)s useless now. He cursed the insane impulse that had brought him here, aimlessly and without guidance, and left him powerless even to reach the object of his quest. If he had only gone first to the Mission, a.sked the advice and assistance of Father Felipe, or . learned at least the full details of the disaster ! He uttered an oath, rare to his usual calm expression, and, wheeling his horse, galloped fiercely back toward the Mission. Night had deepened over the plain. With the going down of the sun, a fog that had been stealthily encompassing the coast-line, stole with soft step across the shining beach, dulled its luster, and then moved slowly and solemnly ui)on the plain, blotting out the Point of Pines, at first salient with its sparkling Light-house, but now undistinguishable from the gray sea above and below, until it reached the galloping horse and its rider, and then, as it seemed to Arthur, isolated them from the rest of the world — from even the penciled outlines of the distant foot-hills — that it at last sj^onged from the blue gray slate before him. At times the fiir-off tolling of a fog-bell came faintly to his ear, but all sound seemed to be blotted out by the fog ; even the rapid fall of his horse's hoofs was mulilcci 4 IK I'HF. TRACK O!" A SI'ORNf. 353 all nor ruin .incl indistinct. By degrees the imjiression that he was riding in a dream overcame liim, and. was accepted by him without (juestioning or deliberation. It seemed to be a consistent part of the dream or vision when he rode — or, rather, as it seemed to him, was borne by the fog — into the outlying fields and lanes of the Mission. A few lights, with a nimlms of fog around them, made the narrow street of the town appear still more ghostly and unreal, as he jjlunged through its obscurity toward the plaza and church. Even by the dim gray light he could see that one of the towers had fallen, and that the eastern wing and refectory were amass of shapeless ruin. And what would at another time have excited his surjjrise, now only struck him as a natural part of his dream — the church a blaze of light, and filled with thronging worshii)ers ! Still possessed by his strange fancy, Arthur Poinsett dismounted, led his horse beneath the shed beside the remaining tower, and entered the building. The body and nave of the * hurch w^re intact ; the outlandish paintings still hung from the walls ; the waxen effigies of the Blessed Virgin and the Saints still leaned from their niches, yellow ard lank, and at the high altar Father Fehpe was officiating. As he entered, a dirge broke from the choir ; he saw that the altar and its offerings were draped in black, and in the first words uttered by the priest, Arthur recognized the mass for the (lead! The feverish impatience that had filled his breast and heightened the color of his cheeks for the last hour was gone He sunk U])on a bench beside one of the worshij)ers and buried his face in his hands. The voice of the organ rose again faint'y; the quaint-voiced choir awoke, the fumes of incense filled the church, and the monotonous accents of the priest fell soothingly ujwn his ear, and Arthur seemed to sleep. I say seemed to sleep for ten, minutes later he came to himself with a tsart, as if awakening from a troubled dream, with the voice of Padre Felipe in his ear, and the soft, caressing touch of Padre Felipe on liis shoulder, 'i'he worshipers had dispersed, the church was dark, save a few ( andles still burning on the high altar, and for an instant he could not recall himself. ■ \ l,i ' f" :." t'. ■ 4 yM AHRIKI, CONKOY, *' I knew you would comu, son," said I'adre l'elii)c ; " bin where is she? Did you l)ring her with you?" " Who?" asked Arthur, striving to recall his scattered senses. "Who? Saints [)erserve us, Don Arturo ! She who sent for you, Donna Maria? Did you not get her message?" Arthur replied that lie had only just arrived, and had at on( c hastened to the Mission. For some reason that he wa^ ashamed to confess, he did not say that he had tried to reach the Rancho of the Blessed Trinity, nor did he admit that hv had forgotten for the last two hours even the existence oi' Donna Maria. " V^ou were having a mass for the dead, Father Felipe ? Voii have, then, suffered here?" He paused anxiously, for in his then confused state of mind he doubted how much of his late consciousness had been real or visionary. " Mother of God," said l-ather Felii)e, eying Arthur curiously. "You know not, then, for whcjm was this mass? You know not that a saint has gone ; that Donna Dolores has at last nicl her reward?" *' I have heard — that is, Donna Maria's dispatch said — that she was missing," stammered Arthur, feeling with a new and insupi)ortable disbelief in himself that his face was very i)alc and his voice uncertain. "Missing!" echoed Father Felipe, with the least trace of impatience in his voice. " Missing ! She will be f und when the Rancho of the Blessed 'J'rinity is restored ; when the ruins of the casa, sunk fifty feet below the surface, are brought again to the level of the ))lain. Missing, Don Arturo! ah ! missing indeed ! — forever ! — alwavs !— entirelv !" Moved perhaps by something in Arthur's face, Padre Felipe sketched in a few graphic pictures the details of the catastrophe already forecast by Arthur. It was a repetition of the story of the sunken corral. The earthcpiake had not only leveled the walls of the Rancho of the Blessed Trinity, but had opened a grave-like chasm fifty feet below it, and none had escaped to tell the tale. The faithful ViU/itcros had rushed from iIil' trt^mhli ng and undulating plain to the Rancho, only to see it topple into a yawning abyss that opened to receive it. Don IN THE TRACK OK A SIDk.M. a55 Juan iJoiina Dolores, the faithful Manuela, and Alejandro, the niajor-(-loiiio, with a dozen peons and retainers, went dt)wn with the cruniMing walls. No one had escaped. Was it not possible to dit^ in the ruins for the bodies? Mother of (lod! had not Don Arturo been told iha^ the earth at the second shock hatl closed over the sunken ruins, burying beyond mortal resurrection all that the Kancho contained ? They were digging, but hopelessly, a dozen men. They might, weeks hence, discover the bodies ; but who knows ? The meek, fatalistic way that leather Felipe accej)ted the final doom of Donna Dolevres e\as[)erated Arthur beyond bounds. In San Francisco, a hundred men would have been digging night and day in the mere chan^.j of recovering the buried family. Here— but Arthur remembered the sluggish, helpless retainers of Salvatierra, tjie" dreadful fatalism which affected them on the occurrence of this mysterious catastroj)he, even as shown in the man l)efore inm, their accepted gu'de and leader, and shuddered. Could anything be done ? Could he not, with Dumj)hy's assistance, j)rocure a gang of men from San Frar 'sco ? And then came the instiiMt of caution, always ])owerful with a nature like Arthur's. If these people, most concerned in the loss of their friends, their relations, accci">tv i it so hopelessly, what right had he, a n^ere stranger, to inter- fere ? " But come, my son," said Padre Felii)e, laying his large soft hand, parentally, on Arthur's shoulder. " Come, come with me to my rooms. Thanks to the lUessed Virgin I have still shelter and a roof to offer you. Ah," he added, stroking Arthur's riding-coat, and examining him criiically as if he had been a large child, "what have we —what is this, eh? You are wet with this heretic fog — eh? Your hands are cold, and your cheeks hot. You have fatigue ! Possibly, most possibly hunger! No! No I It is so. Come with me, come !" and drawing Arthur's passive arm through iiis own, he opened the vestry door, and led him across the little garden, choked with debris and ])laster of the fallen tower, to a small adijbe build- ing that had been the Mission school-room. It'was now hastily fitted up as Padre Felipe's own private apartment and medita- tive cell. A bright fae burned in the low, oven-like hearth. \ v». J asfi r.AimiKi, coMRov. ,> t Z' ^■?i <• • I:'. ■H •'■■• grai)h office," he said, handing it to Father Felipe. The Pachc took it in his hand, but glanced anxiously at Arthur. "And Donna Maria?" he said hesitatingly — "you ha^c noi seen her yet ! Surely you will slop at the Hlessed Fisherman, if only a moment, eh?" Arthur drew his riding coat and cape over his shoulders with a miscliievous smile. " 1 am afraid not, "athe^ I shall trust to you to explain Mat T was rec. llel s:K!.icT!ly. aiw. that i had not time to call ; knowing the fascmatior',-. a , >ur society, Father, she will not begrudge the few momt;^ ' i '-^r, /e spent with you." Deforc Father Felipe could reply the .e vant entered with the an- nouncement that the horse was ready. " (iood-night, F'ather Felii)e," said Arthur, jiressing the priest's hands warmly with every trace of his former suspicious- ness gone. " Good-night. A thoi^sand thanks for the horse. In speeding the parting guest," he iidded gravely, '■ you have perhaps done more for the health of my soul than you imagine. Good-night. At/ios ! " With a light laugh in his ears, the vision of a graceful, erect figure waving a salute from a phantom steed, an inward rush of the cold gray fog, and the muffled clatter of hoofs over the moldy and mossy marbles in the church-yard, Father Felipe ])arted from his guest. He uttered a characteristic adjuration, took a pinch of snuff, and, closing the door, picked up the card of the gallant Col. Starbottle and tossed it in the fire. Jkit the perplexities of the Holy Father ceased not with the night. At an early hour the next morning, Donna Maria Sepul- vida appeared before him at breakfast, suspicious, indignant and irate. " Tell me, F'ather FY'lipe," she said hastily, "did the Don Arturo pass the night here?' " 'I'ruly no, my daughter,' answered the Padre cautiously " He was here but for a little " "And he went away when?" interrupted Donna Maria. (( At ome. " And where?" continued Donna Maria with a rising color. "To San Francisco, my child, it was business of great ini portance ; but sit down, sit, little one! this impatience is (it tjie devil, daughter, you must calm your'ieU", " IN TIIK TRACK OF A SIY)KM. 35!) lid the Don ** .'" nd do you know, I'a'hcr Fclip-', tliat he went away with out oniing near meV rontiruied |)(.)nna Maria in a hi,L,'her kjy, .carcely heeding her gliostly ro. Tessor. ' 'ossihly, most possil)ly ! But he received a dis])atch— it wa f the greatest inii)ortancc." " A thspatch !" re eated Donna Maria, srornfully, — "truly — from wiiom ?" " I know not, my child," said Father Felii)e, gazing at the pink checks, indignant eyes, and slightly swollen eyelids of hi;? visitor — " this im})atience, this anger is most unseendy !" "Was it fr(>'n Mr. Dum])hy?" reiterated Donna Mr- 'a, stamping her little foot ! Father Felij)e drew back his chaii^. Through what \- hai lowed spell had this woman, once the meekest and humb.'.si of wives, become the shrillest and most shrewish of wiuvws i'" Was she about to revenge herself on Arthur for her lon^- suiicr- in'^ with the late Don Jose? Father Felipe pitied Ari' •■ ',j\v and pros[)ectively. "Are you going to to tell me?" said Donna Maria tremul- ously, with alarming symptoms of hysteria. "1 l)elie\e it was from Mr. Dumphy," stammered Padre Felipe. "At least the answer Don Arturo gave me to send in reply — only three words, ' I will return at once,' was addressed to Mr. Dumphy. But I know not what was the message lu- received." "You don't!" said Donna Maria, rising to her feet, with white in her cheek, fire in her eyes, and a stridulous j)itch in her voice. "You don't! Well, I will tell you ! It was the same news that this brought." She took a telegraphic dispatch from her pocket and shook it in the face of Father Felipe. "There! read it !• That was the news sent to him ! That was the reason why he turned and ran away like a coward, as he is! That was the reason why he never came near me, like a prejured traitor as he is ! That is the reason why he came to you with his fastidious airs and his sui)ercilious smile, .and his — his — O ^ HATE HIM ! 'J'hat is why ! — read it ! read it ! Why don't you read it?" (.She had l)een gesticulating with it, waving it in the air wildly, and evading every attempt of I'Vither I'elipc to take it from her.) " Read it ! Read it and see why I ;jGo r.AHKIKL CONKOY. Rent! and see that I am ruined! — a be gar I a cajoled and tri( kcd and deceived woman — between these two villians, I)umj)hv and Mis -ter--Arthiir l*oin — sett! Ah! Read it; or are you a traitor too? VOu and Dolores and all — " She crumi)led the paper in her hands, threw it on the floor, whitened suddenly around the lii)S, and then followed tin |)a))er as suddenly, at full length, in a nervous s])asm at Katlu i Kelijje's feet. Father Felipe gazed, first at the paper, and tlu n at the rigid form of his friend. He was a man, an old one. with some exj)erience of the sex, and, I regret to say, he picked up the /rt'/'^v first and straightened // out. It was a telegraphi( dispatch in the following words : ^^ Sorry to say ti'/i'i:[rafN Just received that earthquake has droppui out had of Convoy Mine ! Everything }:^one up ! Can't make further advances, or sell sthck. — DuMPHV." Father Felii)e bent over Donna Maria and raised her in his arms. "Poor little one!" he said. " But 1 don't think Arthur knew it I " CHAPTER XLVI. COL. STARliO'l'JM': ACCEPTS AN APOLOGY. X For once, by a cruel irony, the adverse reports regarding tiK stability of the Conroy Mine were true ! A few stockholders still clung to the belief that it was a fabrication to depress ihe stock; but the fact, as stated in Mr. Dumphy's dispatch m Donna Maria, was in possession of the public. The stock fcl. to $35, to $30, to $10 — to nothing ! An hour after t!u earthquake it was known in One Horse Gulch that the -'lead" had dropped suddenly, and that a veil of granite of incalculable thickness had been upheaved between the seekers and the treasure, now lost in the mysterious depths below. The vein was gone ! Where, no one could tell. There were various fheories, more or less learned. There was one party \\!i'' (T)I,. STARIIOTII.K ACCKl'IS AN APOr.fXlV. :m believed in the " siibsidcJK e " of llie vein; anotlier wliu believed in the "interposition" of the granite, but all tending to the same conclusion the inai cessibility of the treasure. Science pointed with stony finger to the evidence of previous phenomena of the same character visible throughout the (iul( h. lUit the grim "I told you so" of nature was, I fear, no more satisfactory to the dwellers of One Horse (lulch tiuin the ordinary prophetic distrust of common humanity. 'I'he news spread [uiikly and far. It overtook several wandering C'alifornians in Kuro|)e, and sent them to their bankers with anxious faces ; it paled tiie cheeks of one or two guardians of orphan children, frightened several widows, dnne a confidential clerk into shameful exile, and strui k Mr. Kaynor in IJoston with such consternation, that people for the first time sus|>ected that he had backed his opinion of the resoun es ot California with capital. Throughout the length and breadth of the l^acific slope it produced a movement of aggression whi( h the cartht[uake had hitherto failed to cover. 'I he probabilities ot danger to life and limb by a recurrence of the sliock had been dismissed from the public consideration, but this actual loss ol ( haracteristic property awakened the gravest anxiety. If nature claimed the i)rivilege of, at any time, withdrawing from that implied contract under which so many of California's best ( itizens had occupied and improved the country, it was high time that something should be done. Thus s[)ake an intelli gent and unfettered press. A few old residents talked of returning to the Kast. During this excitement Mr. Dumphy bore himself toward the world generally with perfect self-confidence, and, if anything, an increased aggressiveness. His customers dared not talk of tlicir losses before him, or exhibit a stoicism unecpial to his own. " It's a blank bad business," he would say ; " what do you ltroj)ose?" And as the one latent proposition in each human l>reast was the return of the money invested, and as no one dared to make that proposition, Mr. Dumphy was, as usual, triumphant. In this frame of mind Mr. Poinsett found him. on his return from the Mission of San Antonio, the next morning. V ».. J « I « .•{♦;2 GAHKIKL CONROY. " Had news, I suppose, down there," said Mr. Diunphy l)ri.skly; "and I reckon the widow, tlioiij^h she has been hickicr than her neigiihors, don't feel i)articularly lively, eh ? I'm dev'lish sorry for you, Poinsett, thougii, as a man, you can see that the investment was a good one. Hui you can't maki* a woman understand business, eh } Well, the Rancho's woitli double the mortgage, 1 reckon, eh? I'gly, ain't she? ol course! Said she'd been swindled? That's like a woman' \'ou and me know 'em, eh, I'oinsett?" Mr. Dumphy emitted his cliaracteristic bark, and winked at his visitor. Arthur looked up in unaffected suq^rlsc. " If you mean Mrs. Sei)ulvida," he said coldly, "I haven't seen her. 1 was on n>y way there when your telegram recalled \\\c. 1 had some business with Padre Felipe." " You don't know, then, that the ('onroy Mine has gone up with the earthquake, eh? Lead dropped out, eii, and ilu- widow's fifty six thousand?" (Here Mr. I)umi)hy snai)ped liis linger and thumb to illustrate the lame and im|)oteni conclusion (t( Donna Maria's investment.) ''Don't you know tiiat?" " No," said Arthur, with perfect indifference and a languid abstraction that awed Mr. Dumphy more than an.xiety ; "no, I don't. Hut I imagine that isn't the reason you telegraphed )> me. " No," returned Dumphy, still eying Poinsett keenly for a possible due to this singular and unheard-of apathy to the condition of the fortune of the woman \\\s, visitor was about to marry. " No, of course ! " " Well," ^aitJ Arthur, with that dangerous quiet which was the only outward sign of interest and determination in his nature. " I'm going up to One Horse Gulch to offer iny services as counsel to (iabriel Conroy. Now for the details oi this nmrdcr, which, by the way, 1 don't believe (labricI committed, unless he's another man than the one I know! After that you can tell me yoin- business with me, for I don't suppose you telegraphed to me on his account solely. Of ( oursc, at fir.st you felt it was to your interest to get him and his wife out of the way, now that Ramirez, is gone. lUit now, COL. STARMorrLK ACCKFLS AN APoI.OOY. MVA and winked at if vou |)lc;ise, let nu' know what jv'// know about this mur- der?" Mr. Duniphy, thus ronininndcd, nnd ;irli( ulars already known to the reader, of wliieh;^he had been kept in- tonned by telegraph. " He's i)een recaptured," added Dunijihy, "I learn l)y a later despatch; and 1 don't reckon there'll be another attempt t«) lyiK h him. I've managed ///Nr instigation ?" 'M'A GAHRiEt, CONROV. •• V "It's a lie," intfiTUpted I )unii)hv, starting to liis feet, " lie did it from jealousy." " Can you prove his motives?" said Arthur. " But the grant was not in my favor —it was to some old Californian down in the Mission of San Antonio. I ran prove that," said Uumphy excitedly. *' Suppose you can. Nobody imagines you so indiscreet as to have had another grant conveyed to you diiwtly, while you were negotiating with (iabriel for his. Don't he foolish ! / know you haci nothing to do v.ith the forged grant. I am only suggesting how you have laid yourself open to the charges of a woman of whom you are likely to make an enemy, and inii^ht have Piadean ally. If you calculate to revenge Ramirez, con sider first if you care to have it jiroved that he was a con fidential agent of yours— as they will, if you don't help them. Never mind whether they committed the murder. You are not their judge or accuser. You must help them for your own sake. No!" continued Arthur after a pause, "congratul.ite yourself that the Vigilance Committee did not hang Cial)iiel Conroy, and that you have not to add revenge to the other motives of a desperate and scheming woman." " But are you satisfied that Mrs. Conroy is really the person who stands liehind Colonel Starbottle and personates my wife.''" " I am," replied Arthi:r positively. Dumphy hesitated a moment. Should he tell Arthur of Col. Starbottle's interview with him, and the delivery and subsctjucnt loss of the mysterious envelope ? Arthur read his cnibai ras- ment plainly, and precipitated his decision with a sin;;lc question. " Have you had any further interview with Colonel Starbottle?" Thus directly adjured, Dumphy hesitated no longer, but al once repeated tlie details of iiis late conversation with Starboltlc. his successful bribery of the Colonel, the delivery of the sealed envelope under certain conditions, and its mysterious disapp 'ar ance. Arthur heard him tluough with tjuiet interest, but wliei) Mr. Dumphy spoke of the loss of the envelope, he fixed his eyes on Mr. Dumphy's with a significance that was unmistakc- ablc. " Vou bay YOU lost this enveloite trusted to your Iionor !" COL. SI AKr.orrr.F. AccKns an apology. 365 ally the person lates mv wile." said Arthur with slow and insulting dclilKiation. *' Lost it without having i)])oncd it »)r learned its contents? That wa? very unfortunate, Mr. Duniphy, ve-ry un for-tu-nate !" The indignation of an honorable man at the ini|)Utation ol some meanness fcicign to his nature, is weak compared witli the anger of a rascal are used of an ofense which he might have (oramitted; ])ut didn't. Mr. Dumphy turned almost purple ! It \v;is so evident tha,t he had not be .". guilty of concealing the enve- loi)e, and did not know its contents, that Arthur was satisfied. '' He denied any peisonal knoi, ledge of Mrs, Conroy in this affair?" cjueried Arthur. " Entirely ! He gave me to undersand that his instructions were received from another party unknown to me," said Dumphy ; " look yer, Poinsett, you're wrong ! I don't believe it is that woman." Arthur shook his head. '* No one else possesses the infor- mation necessary to black-mail you. No one else has a motive in doing it. 'J'he door oi)cned to a clerk bearing a card. Mr. Dumphy took it impatiently and read aloud, " Colonel Starbottle of Siskiyou !" He hen turned an anxious face to Poinsett. '* Cfood," said that gentleman quietly, "admit him !" .\sthe rlcrk disappeared, .Arthur turned to Dumphy — '* I suppose it was to meet this man you sent for me?'~ " Yes," returned Dumj)hy, with a roLurn of his own brusque- ness. ' Then hold your tongue, and leave everything to me !" The dooi; opened as he spoke, to Colonel Starbottle's frilled shirt and expanding bosom, followed at a respectful interval by the gallant Colonel himself'. He was evidently surprised by thr appearaiK:e of Mr. l)umphy's guest, but l)y no means dasli- cd i I his usual chivalrous })ort and bearing. '■ My legal adviser, Mr. Poinsett," said l)um[)hy, introducing Artliur bri^-fly. The gallant Colonel bowed stiffly, while Arthur, with a smile of fascinating courtesy and deference that astonished Dumphy in proportion as it evidently flattered an»! gratified Colonel Starbottle, stei)ped forward and extended his hand. '' As a younger member of the profession 1 can hardly claim :i()r, r.AHKIKT, CON ROY. y% '-i-» ihc attention of one so experienced as (,\)1. Starl)()ttlc, 1)ut iis the friend of i)oor Henry l>eeswinger 1 cnn venture to take the hand of tlie man who so gallantly stood by him as his seeond, two years ago."' " Cied, sir," said Colonel Starhottle, absolutely cmnurjilini; with pleasure, and exploding his handkerchief from his swelter ing breast. " (led ! you- -er- -er do me j)roud ! I am — er - gratified, blr, to meet any friend of er — er — gentleman like Hank Beeswinger — blank me ! I remember the whole affair, sir. as if it was yesterday. I do, blank me ! Gratifying, Mr. Poinsett, to every gentleman concerned. Your friend, sir — I'm proud to meet you — I am, blank me, — killed, sir, second fire ! Droj^ped like a gentleman, blank me. No fuss ; no re- porters ; no ariests. Friends considerate. Blank me, sir, one of the finest — blank me, 1 may say, sir, one of the very finest — er — meetings in which I have — er --i)articipated. Glad to know you, sir. You call to mind, sir, one of the — er — highest illustrations of 3 code of honor — that — er — er — under the present — er — degrading state of jMiblic sentiment is — er — er passing away. We are drifting, ^ir, drifting — drifting to — er — er— political and social condition where the Voice of Honor, sir, is drowned by die blank — er — Yankee watchword of Pro- duce and Trade. Trade, sir, blank me I" Col. Starbottle paused with a rhetorical fiill stop, blew his nose, and gazed at the ceiling with a plaint've suggestion that the days of chivalry had indeed passed, and that American institutions were indeed retrograding; Mr. Dumphy leaned back in his chair in helpless irritability ; Mr. Arthur Poinsett alone retained an expression of courteous and sympathizing attention. " I am the more gratified at meeting Col. Starbottle," said Arthur gravely, " from the fact that my Triend and client here. Mr. Dumphy, is at present in a condition wh.ere he most needs the consideration and -understanding of a gentleman and a man of honor. A paper, which has been intrusted to his sate keei>ing and custody as a gentleman, has disappeared since the earthijuake, and it is believed that during the excitement ot that moment it was lost ! The ])aper is sui)pH)'ed to be int.Kt, as it was in an envelope that /fji/ never been opened^ and u 1.. « • cashier's acceptance of this ]>ai)cr will enable him to use it hen< eforlh at his ])leasure, and as I expect to have the pleasure of the Coh)nel's < ()nij)any to my office, will you kindly have this done at once." The clerk ai)peared, and at Mr. Poinsett's direction took \hc check from the almost passive fingers of Mr. Dumphy. " Allow me to express my perfect satisfacticm with — er- er your explanation !" said Col. Starbottle, extending one hand to Arthur while at the same moment he grac:efully readjusted his shirt-bosom with the other. " Trouble yourself^ no further re garding the - er -er pai)er. I trust it will - er yet be found, if not, sir, I shall — ^er— er — " added the Colonel with honorable resignation, "hold myself pcrsoiially rcspotisible to my client, blank me!" " Was there no mark on the envelope by which it might be known without explaining its contents?" suggested Arthur. "None, sir,— a ])lain yellow envelope. Sto|)!" said tin; Colonel, striking his forehead with his hand. " Oed, sir ! I do remember n(v,v that during our conversation, I made a mem(>r- andum, blank me, a memorandum upon the face of it, across it, a blank name, (led sir, the very name of the party you were speaking of- (iabriel Conroy !" " You wrote the name of ( Jabriel Conroy upon it ! Good ! That may lead to its identification without exi)osing its con tenfei," returned Arthur. "Well, sir?" The last two words were addressed to Mr, Dumphy's clerk, who had entered dur ing the Colonel's speech and stood staring alternately at him and his emi)loyer, holding the accepted check in his hand. " Give it to the gentleman," said Dumphy, curtly. The man obeyed. Col. Starbottle took the check, folded it and placed it somewhere in the mor^sl recesses of his breast pocket. That done, he turned to Mr. Dunphy. " I need not say--er — that — er — as far as my personal coun sel and advice to my client can p^revail, it will be my effort to pre'c'it litigation in diis — er — delicate T'^'air, blank me ! Should the erv.'rpi - er — er- -turn up ! you will of course — er — send it to me V, h^ am— er — personally responsible for it, Ged, sir,' continued rhc Colonel, " I sh )uld be proud to conclude thi^ afiair, ^xindurtcvi a:i i', has been on your side with the strjctesr COI . SIAKI.Ol ri.K NCCKPTS AN APOI OGV. :^r.n nc ! Should honor, over the -er- -festive board; luit — er— business pre vents mc ! I leave here in one nour tor One Horse (iu)< i\ !" Both Mr, Diunphy and Voinselt involuntarily started. "One Horse (luUh?" repeated Arthur. " Jilank nie ! yes; (ied. sir, I'm retained in a murder case there ; the case of this man (labriel Conroy." Arthur cast a swift precautionary look at J)umphy. " Then perhaps we may be traveling com])anions?" he said to Starbottle, smiling })lcasantly; " i am going there too. Per- haps my good fortune may bring us in friendly counsel, Vou are engaged— "' * " For the ])r()secution," interrujjted Starbottle, slightly ex- panding his chest. "At the recjuest of relatives of the murder- ed man, a Spanish gentleman of — or — large and influential family connections, I shall assist the District Attorney, my old friend Nelse l>uckthorne !" The excitement kindled in Arthur's eyes luckily did not ap- pear in his voice. It was still pleasant to Col. Starbottles ear, as, after a single threivtening glance of warning at the utterly jnystified and half exploding L)umi)hy, he turned gracefully to- ward him. "And if, by the fortunes of war, we should be again on np posite sides, my dear Colonel, I trust that our relations yiay be as gratifying as they have been to-day. One moment ! I am going your way. I et me beg you to take my arm a few blocks and a glass of wine afterward as a stirrup-cu)) on our j(Mirne\ And, with a significant glance at Dumphy, Arthur I'oins tt slipped Col. Starbottle's arm deftly under his own. and actu; iy marched off with that doughtly warrior, a blushing, expant' g. but not unwilling captive. When the door closed, Mr. l)uiui)hy resumed his sp ch and at tion in a single ex|)letive ! What more he might have said is not known, for at the same moment he caught . ^ht of his clerk, who had entered hastily at the exit of the others, but who now stood awed and abashed at Mr. IXnnphy's passion. " Uash it all ! what m dash are yINSF,TT, OF COUN-KI.. 371 H()rse (iiih h, and possibly some l)clicl' in the C(iu;il un- trustworthincss of the people, the sheriff rondurted his prisoner, acconij)anied by Oily, to Wingdam. Nevertheless, Olly's state- ment of the changed condition of iniblic sentiment, or rather its preoccupation with a calamity of more absorbing interest, was in the n-jain correct. The news of the recapture of Gabriel by his legal guardian awoke no excitement nor com- ment. More than this, there was a favorable feeling toward the prisoner. The action of the V'igilance Committee had been unsu( cessful, and had terminated disastrously to the principal movers therein. It is possible that the morality of their action was involved in their success. Somehow the whole affair had not resulted ^o the business interests of the (xulch. The three most prominent lynchers were dead — and clearly in error ! The prisoner, who was still living, was possibly in the right. The Silveropolis '*' Messenger," which ten days before had alluded to the " noble spectacle of a free i)eoj)le, outraged in their holiest instincts, appealing to th. H'-st princi- ples of Justice and Order, and rallying as a single *> m to their support," now ([uietly buried the victims and their motives from the public eye beneath the calm statement that they met their fate " while examining the roof of the Court House, with, a view to estimate the damage caused by the first shock of the earthcjuake." The " Banner " favored the same idea a little less elegantly, and suggested ironically that hereafter " none but experts should be allowed to go foolin' round the statue of Justice." I trust that the intelligent reader will not accuse me of endeavoring to cast ridicule upon the general accuracy of spontaneous public emotion, or the infallibility of the true democratic impulse, wliich (I beg to ([uote from the '' Messen- ger ") " in the earliest ages of our history enabled us to resist legalized aggression, and take the reins of government into our own hands," or (I now refer tt» the glov.ing language of the ** Banner ") ''gave us the right to run the machine ourselves and boss Hie job," And I trust that the reader will observe in this passing recognition of certain inconsistencies in the expres- sion and action ot these people, onlv the fidelity of a faithful chronicler, and no intent of churlish criticism nor moral or 372 r.AimiEL CONROV, ■ ,) .1 . ])()lilical .ulnumilion, whicli \ here disc rcctly (lc)>rc< ate niid dis. claim. Nor was there any opposition when (labriel, upon the motion of Lawyer Maxwell, was admitted to bail, pending the action of the grand jury, nor any surprise when Mr. l)umi)hy's agent and banker came forward as his bondsmen for the sum of tift) thousand df^lars. Uy one of those strange vicissitudes in tiic tbrtunes of mining speculation, this act by Mr. Dumphy wa.«; looked upon as an evidence of his trust in the future of the un- fortunate mine of which (iabriel had been the original locator and su['erintendent, and under that belief the stock rallied slightly. " It was a mighty sharj) move of Pete Dumphy's bailin' thet Oabe, right in face of that there 'dropped lead ' in his busted-up mine ! O, you've got to set up all night to get any points to show ////// .'" and to their mutual surprise Mr. Dumphy found himself more awe inspiring than ever at One Horse (Julch, and Gabriel found himself a free man, with a slight po[)ulnr flavor of martyrdom about him. ^Ai '>e still }>ersistently refused to enter again upon the ))remises which he had deeded to his wife on the day of the murder, tcmi)oiary lodgings were found for him and Oily at the Grand ('onroy Hotel. And here Mrs. Markle, although ex- hibiting to l.aw}'^ Maxwell the greatest concern in (iabriel's trouble, by one o' iiose inconsistencies of the sex which I shall not attempt to explain, rrtvted the unfortunate accused with a degree of cold reserve that was as grateful, I fear, to Gabriel, as it was unexpected. Indeed, 1 imagine that if the kind- hearted widow had known the real comfort and assurance that the exasperating Gabriel extracted from her first cold and con- strained greeting, she would have spent less of her time in con- sultation with Maxwell regarding his defense. But perhaps I am doiwg a large-hearted and unselfish sex a deep injustice. So I shall content mysell with tranicribing j)artof a dialogue which took place betv/cen them at the Grand Conroy. Mrs. Markle (loftily, and regarding the ceiling with cold abstraction) : " We can't gin ye here. Mister Conroy, the P'rench style and attention ye're kinder habitooal to in yer own house on the Hill, bein' plain folks and mounting ways. But we know our i)lace and (ion't reckon to promise the conifortsj MK. l'f)|NsKir, <>1 ( (tl'NsK.I,. :j7:; of a home ! Wot with lookm' alter forty rc^''l.ir and twenty five transient ef I don't happen to see ye miu h myself, Mr. Conroy, ye'Il understand. Kf you ring that there bell one o' the help will be always on hand, ^'er lookin' well, Mr. C!onroy. And bi/ness, I reckon" (the reatler will here observe a lady- like ignoring of (lal)riers s|)e(ial trouble), '" ez about what it allers was, thouuh, judging tVom remarks of transients, it's dull ! " (labriel (endeavoring to conceal a large satisfaction under the thin glossing of conventional sentiment): ''Don't let me nor Oily })ut ye out a cent, Mrs. Maikle — a change bein' ordered by Olly's physicians and variety bein', so to speak, the spice o' life! And ye're lookin' well, Mrs. Markle ; thet ez" (with a sudden alarm at the danger of comi)liment), "so to speak, ez peart and strong-handed ez ever! And how's thet little Manty o' yours gettin' on ? Jist how it waz thet me and Oily didn't get to see ye before, ez mighty (jueer! Times and times agin" (with shameless menda* ity) " hez me and thet child bin on the p'int o' coming, and suthin' hez jest chipped in and interfered ! " Mrs. Markle (with freezing politeness): " Vou do me i)roud ! I jest dropped in ez a matter o' not bein' able allers to trust to help, (lood-night. Mister Conroy. I hope I see you well! Ye kin jest" (retiring with matronly dignity), "ye kin jest touch (jnto that bell thar, if ye're wantin' anything, and help'll come to ye ! (lood-night I " Oily (ai)pearing a moment later at the door of dabriel's room, truculent and susi)icious) : "Afore I'd stand thar — chirj)in' with thet crockidill- and you in troubil, and not knowin' wot's gone o' July- I'd pizen myself!" Gabriel (blushing to the roots of his hair, and conscience- stricken to his inmost soul): " It's jest passin' the time o' day, Oily, with old friends -kinder influencin' the public sentynient and the jury. Thet's all. It's the advice o' T.awyer M;ixwell, ez ye didn't get to hear, I reckon,— thet's all !" But Gabriel's experience in the Grand Conroy Motel was not, 1 fear, always as pleasant. A durk-fac ed, large featured woman, manifestly in mourning, and as manifestly an avenginf^j friend of the luckless* deceased, in whose taking off Gabriel 374 riAimrKi. conrov. . ^ was supposed to ho so largely instrument.!], presently appeared al the (Inuid (^onroy Hotel, wailing the action of" the (Iraiul Jury. She was accompanied by a dark faced elderly gentleman, our old friend, Don rt-dro she being nt^ie other than the unstable-waisted Manuela, of Paeifie street- and was, I believe, in the opinion of One Horse (iulch, supposed to be charged with convincing and mysterious evidence against dabriel ('on roy. 'i'he sallow faced pa'r had a w.iy of meeting in the corri dors of the hotel and conversing in mysterious whisj)ers in a tongue foreign to One Horse Oulch, and to Oily, strongly suggestive of revenge and cone ealed sti/ttfos that was dark I v signili( ant ! Hai)i)ily, however, for (kibriel, he was |)resently relieved from their gloomy es/>ionn,i^t- by the interposition of a third party —Sal Clark ! 'J'hat individual, hersvlf in the deep- est mourning and representing the deceased in his holiest affections, it is scarcely necessary to say, at once resented the presence of the strangers ! 'I'he two women glared at each other at the public table, and in a chance nreeting in the corri- dor of the hotel. "In the name of (lod, what have we here in this imbecile and forward creature, and why is this so, and after this fashion?" asked Manuela of Don Pedro. "Of a verity, 1 know not!" rei)lied Don Pedro; "it is most possibly a j)erson visited of dod ! — a hel|)less being of no brains. Peradventure a person filled with a VJ > ^ > .^ '!^ 7 >^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I l^|28 |2.5 1.25 U 116 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14S80 (716) 872-4503 : i.-. t0- |»-t ; '"■ , w-^*'*' • ■'■■ '■■ 37fi GABRIEr. CONROY. . " « •■ * •.■ privacy and < onfidciice. As Artluir sat tlicrc alone, (u\c gen tieman as he was and famous in his profession, he was < on scious of a certain degree of nervousness that galled his i)ridc greatly. He was about to meet the man whose cherished sistei six years ago he had stolen ! Such at least Arthur felt was Gabriel's opinion ! /fc had no remorse nor consciousness cl guilt or wrong-doing in that act ! But in looking at the fact, in his professional habit of viewing both sides of a question, he made this allowance for the sentiment of the prosecution ; and putting himself, in his old fashion, in the position of his opponent, he judged that Gabriel might consistently exhibit some degree of indignation at their first meeting. That there was, however, really any w^vY/Zciuestion involved, he did not believe. The girl, Grace Conroy, had gone with him readily, after a careful and honorable statement of the facts of her situation, and Gabriers authority or concern in any subse([uent sentimen- tal complication he utterly denied. That he, Arthur, had acted in a most honorable, high-minded, and even weakly gen- erous fashion toward Grace, that he had obeyed her frivolous whims as well as her most reasonable demands, that he hatl gone back to Starvation Camp on a hopeless (|uest just to sat- isfy her, that everything had happened exactly as he had pre- dicted, and that when he had returned to her he found that s/ie had deserted /i/m. These, these were the facts that were in- controvertible ! Arthur was satisfied that he had been honora- ble and even generous ; he was quite convinced that this very ■nervousness that he now experienced was solely the condition of a mind too sympathetic even with the feelings of an opjx)- nent in affliction. " 1 must // ' •I J A " ♦ 3«() (iABKIKL CONKOY and blind anxiety to sliicid his wife, he has al)S()liitcly fixed the guilt iif)on himself." "Then you don't think that Mrs. Conroy is the culfnit?" asked Maxwell. " No," said Arthur, " she is capable but not culpable. Tlic real murderer has never been suspected nor his presence known to One Horse (iulch. But I must see Clabriel again and Oily, and you must hunt up a Chinaman — one Ah Ri— who, Gabriel tells me, brought him the note, and who is singularly enough missing, now that he is wanted." " But you cn't use a Chinaman's evidence before a jury?" interrupted Maxwell. " Not directly ; but I can find Christian Caucasians who would be willing to swear to the facts he supplied them with. I shall get at the facts in a few days — and then, my dear fel low," continued Arthur, laying his hand familiarly and patron izingly on the shoulder of his senior, " and then you and I will go to work to see how we can get rid of them." When Gabriel recounted the events of the day to Oily, and described his interview with Poinsett, she became furiously in- dignant. '* And did f;hat man mean to say he don't know whether Gracy is livin' or dead? And he pertendin' to hev been her bo?" " In course," explained Gabriel ; " ye disremember, Oily, thet Gracy never hez let on to me. her own brother, war she ez, and she wouldn't be goin' to tell a stranger. Thar's tli^ni * Personals * as she never answered !" 'V " Mebbe she didn't want to speak to him agin," said Oily, fiercely, with a toss of her curls. * I'd like to know what he'd bin sayin' to her — like his impudence. Enny how he ought to hev found her out, and she his sweetheart ! Why didn't he go right off to the Presidio ? What did he come back for ? Not find her — indeed ? Why, Gabe, do you suppose as July won't find you out soon — why, I bet anythin' she knows jest whar you are " (Gabriel trembled and felt an inward sinking), " and is on'y waitin' to come forward to the trial. And yer you are taken in agin and looled by these yer lawyers! — you old Gabe, you. Let me git at thet Philip — Ashley Poinsett— thet's all ! " WHAr AH Rl IXJl.b NUT KNOW, 381 CHAPTER XLVITI. fVHAT AH RI DOES NOT KNOW. Thus admonished by the practical-minded Oily, Gabriel re tired precipitately to th'^ secure fastnesses of Conroy's Hill, where, over a consolatary pipe in his deserted cabin, he gave himself up to reflections upon the uncertainty of the sex and the general vagaries of womanhood. At such times, he would occasionally extend his wanderings to the gigantic pine-tree, which still towered preeminently above its fellows in ominous loneliness, and seated upon one of its out-lying roots, would gently philosophize to himself regarding his condition, the vicissitudes of fortune, the awful prescience of Oily, and the beneficence of a Creator who permitted such awkward triviality and uselessness as was incarnate in himself to exist at all ! Sometimes, following the impulse of habit, he would encroach abstractedly upon the limits of his own domain, and find him- self under the shadow of his fine house on the hill ; from which, since that eventful parting with his wife, he had always rigidly withheld his foot. As soon as he would make this alarming discovery he would turn "back in honorable delicacy, and a slight sense of superstitious awe. Retreating from one of these involuntary incursions one day, in passing through an opening in a little thicket of " buckeye" niar his house, he stumbled over a small work-basket lying in the withered grass, apparently mislaid or forgotten. Gabriel instantly recognized it as the property of his wife, and as quickly recalled the locality as one of her favorite resorts dur- ing the excessive midday heats. He hesitated and then passed on, and then stopped and returned again awkwardly and bash- fully. To have touched any property of his wife's, after their separation, was something distasteful and impossible to Gabriel's sense of honor ; to leave it t^ere the spoil of any passing Chinaman, or the prey of the elements, was equally inconsist- ent with a certain respect which Gabriel had for his wife's weaknesses. He compromised, by picking it up with the in- A.. • ■•■',' ■ li'-- ■■' '• :.» '■■«,. . •■1. ■ * % . ^ ■ • « <. ■ •I . .' « :; 382 OABRIFI, CONKOY. tention of sending it to Lawyer Miixwell, as his wife's trustee. But in doing this, to Gabriel's great alarm (for he would as soon have sacrificed the hand that held this treasure as to have ex posed its contents in curiosity or suspicion), part of the multi tudinous contents overflowed and fell on the ground, and ho was obliged to pick them up and replace them. One ol them was a baby's shirt — so small it scarcely filled the great hand that grasped it. In (iabriel's emigrant experience, as the frequent custodian and nurse of the incomplete human animal, he was somewhat familiar with those sacred, mummy like inwrappings usually unknown to childless men, and he recognized it at once. He did not replace it in the l)asket, but with a suffused cheek and an increased sense of his usual awkwardness, stuffed it into the pocket of his blouse. Nor did he send the basket to Lawyer Maxwell, as he had intended, and in fact omitted any allusion to it in his usual account to Oily of his daily ex- perience. For the next two days he was peculiarly silent and thoughtful, and was sharply re]irimanded by Oily for general idiocy and an especial evasion of so^iie practical duties. " Yer's them lawyers hez been hunttn' ve to come over and examine that there Chinaman, Ah Ri, ez is just turned up agin, and you ain't nowhere to be found ; and lawyer Maxweil se/ it's a most important witness. And war 'bouts was ye found ? Down in the (julch chirpin' and gossipin' with that Arkansas family, and totin' round Mrs. Welch's baby. And you a growed man, with a fammerly of yer own to look after. I wonder you ain't got more sa/fe / — prancin' round in this yer shiftless way, and you on trial, and accused o' killin' folks. Yer a high ole Gabe— rentin' yerself out for a dry nuss for nothin'!" Gabriel (coloring and hastily endeavoring to awaken Olly's feminine sympathies) : " It waz the powerfullest smallest baby — ye oughter get ter see it. Oily ! 'Taint bigger nor a squirrel — on'y two weeks old yesterday !" Oily (outwardly scornful, but inwardly resolving to visit the phenomenon next week) : "Don't stand yowpin' here, but wall/- down to Lawyer Maxwell and see thet Chinaman." Gal)riel reached the office of Lawyer Maxwell just as th:U What aii ri does not know. 383 gentleman and Arthur Poinsett were rising from a long, hoj)e- less and unsatisfactory examination of Ah Ri. The lawyers had hoped to be able to establish the fact of dabriel's remote- ness from the scene of the murder, by some corroborating incident or individual that Ah Ri could furnish in support of the detailed narrative he had already given, hut it did not aj)pear that any Caucasian had been encoinitered or met by Ah Ri at the time of his errand. And All Ri's memory of the details he had already des-( ribed was apparently beginning to be tlc- feJtive ; it was evident that nothing was to be gained from him even if he had been ( onstituted a legal witness. And then, more than all, he was becoming sullen! " We are afraid that we haven't made much out of your friend. Ah Ri," said Arthur, taking (iabriel's hand. " Vou might try if v ■■•4 • s. <, .^fy i" '■■ .- ' the f;iin()US young atlvorate from S;in l*'ran< isco. Arthur was too wise to exhibit liis fastidiousness before the (!ourt; nevii theless Judge lioonipoiiUer was dimly conscious that lu- would on that ()<< asion have preferred that llie Clerk who s.ii below him had put on a (leaner shirt, and himself refrained from taking off his « ravat and collar, as was his judi< ial hahit i,n the Wingdam « in uit. There was some slight j)reju(Uie on the part of the panel to this well dressed young lawyer, which they were pleased to specify and define more particularly as his general " airiness." Seeing whic h justice, on the bench, became more dignified, and ga/.ed severely at the panel and at Arthur. In the selection of the jury there was some difficulty ; it was confidently supposed that the prisoner's counsel would dial lenge the array on the ground of the recent vigilance excite ment, but public o|)inion was disappointed when the examina tion of the defence was (oni'med to trivial and apparenlls purposeless int|uiry into the nativity of tho several jurors. A majority of those accepted by the defence were men of .Scjuthern birth and education. (Colonel Starbottle, who, as representative of the peculiar chivalry of the South, had always adopted this plan himself, in cases where his client was accused of assault and battery, or even homicide, could not in respect to his favourite traditions object to it. IJut when it was found that there were only two men of Northern extraction on the jury, and that not a few of them had been his own clients. Colonel Starbottle thought he had penetrated the theory of the defence. I regret that ('olonel Starbottle's effort, admirably character ized by the Banner as " one of the most scathing and Junius- like gems of legal rhetoric ever known to the Californian bar," has not been handed down to me in extenso. Substantially, however, it appeared that Colonel Starbottle had never before found himself in " so })eculiar, so momentous, so — er — delicate a position. A jjosition, sir, er — er— gentlemen, fraught with the deepest social, professional — er — er — he should not hesitate to say, upon his own personal resi)onsil)ility, a position of the deepest political significance ! Colonel Starbottle was aware that this statement might be deprecated — nay, even assailed by some But he did not retract that statement. Certainly not in the presence of that jury, in whose intelligent faces he saw — ,:;;l M. ■: F'W\- IHK TRIAI,, :m cr er — er justi(e inflexible justice! or — cr— mingled .iiid — er- mixed with with < hivalruus instin<:t, an' fi r\" • '■■ • ' ' ' If.v' ♦. n *^^..* ■■ • ■ ■ : i ,' ' '<. . , It' ; ■J'' • e .. . ' .• 1 * ■• •»■., It ' '■• t .%• ' , ' 890 GABRIEL CONROY. They had established severally : that the deceased had died from the effects of a knife wound ; that Oabriel had previously quarreled with him and was seen on the hill within a few hours of the murder ; that he had absconded immediately after, and that his wife was still a fugitive, and that there was ample motive for the deed in the circumstances surrounding the j)risoner. Much of this was shaken on cross-examination. The surgeon who made the autopsy was unable to say whether the deceased, being consumptive, might not have died from consumption that very night. The witness who saw Gabriel pushing the deceased along the road, could not swear positively whether the deceased were not pulling Gabriel instead, and the evidence of Mrs. Conroy's imposture was hearsay only. Nevertheless bets were offered in favor of Starbottle against Poinsett — that being the form in which the interest of One Horse Gulch crystallized it.self. When the prosecution rested, Mr. l^oinsett of counsel for defence, moved for the discharge of the prisoner, no evidence having been shown of his having had any relations with or knowledge of the deceased until the day of the murder, and none whatever of his complicity with the murderess, against whom the evidence of the prosecution and the arguments of the learned prosecuting attorney were chiefly directed. .Motion overruled. A sigh of relief went up from the spectators and the jury. That any absurd technical objection should estop them from that fun which as law-abiding citizens they had a right to expect, seemed oppressive and scandalous; and when Arthur rose to open for the defence it was with an instinctive consciouiiiess that his audience were eyeing him as a man who had endeavored to withdraw from a race. Ridiculous as it seemed in reason, it was enough to excite Arthur's flagging interest and stimulate his combativeness. With ready tact he fathomed the expectation of the audience, and at once squarely joined i^sue with the Colonel. Mr. Poinsett difl"ered from his learned friend in believing this case was at all momentous or peculiar. It was a quite common one — he wag sorry to say a 7>ery common one — in the somewhat hasty adminititration of the law in California. He THE TRIAI 391 was willing to admit a peculiarity in his «.'lo(|Ucnt brothers occupying the line of atuu k, when his place was as ( learly at his, Mr. Poinsett's side. He should overlook some irregularities in the prosecution from this fart, and from the natural con- fusion of a man possessing Colonel Starbottle's (juick sympa- thies, who found himself arrayed against his principles. He should, however, relieve them from that confusion, by .stating that there really was no principle involved beyond the common one of self-|)rcservati(m. He was willing to admit the counsel's ingenious theory that Mrs. Conroy who was not mentioned in the indictment, or indeed any other i)erson not specified — had committed the deed for which his client was charged. But as they were here to try Gabriel Conroy only, he could not see the relevancy of the testimony to that fact. He should con- tent himself with the weakness of the accusation. He should not occupy their time, but should ( all at once to the stand the prisoner ; the man who, the jury would remember, was now, against all legal precedent, actually, if not legally, ])laced again in peril of his life, in the very building which but a few days before had seen his danger and his escape. He should call Gabriel Conroy ! There was a momentary sensation in the court. Gabriel uplifted his huge frame slowly, and walked ([uietly toward the witness-box. His face slightly flushed under the halfcritical, halfamused gaze of the spectators, and those by whom he brushed as he made his way through the crowd noticed that his breathing was hurried. But when he reached the box, his face grew more composed, and his troubled eyes j)resently concen- trated their light fixedly upon Colonel Starbottle. Then the clerk mumbled the oath, and he took his seat. " What is your name 'f ' asked Arthur. "I reckon you mean my real name?" queried Gabriel, with a touch of his usual apology. " Yes, certainly, your real name, sir," rej)lied Arthur, a little impatiently. Colonel Starbottle pricked up his ears, and lifting his eyes met Gabriel's dull, concentrated fires full in his own. Gabriel then raised his eyes indifferently to the ceiling. "My m- I 392 (iABRIEL CONROY. * I .;•♦ ., ft*'.-; v''. ■ IP.. ': .' . M--^ ,■ ■ ■■ ''I i .■» .». 1.v. real name — my genooine name — is Johnny, Dumbleder. J-o-n-n-y, Johnny, I)-u-m-b-i-l d-e, Johnny Dumbledee ! " There was a sudden thrill, and then a stony silence. Arthur and Maxwell rose to their feet at the same moment. "What?" said both those gentlemen, sharply, in one breath. "Johnny Dumbledee," repeated Ciabriel, slowly and with infinite deliberation ; "Johnny Dumbledee ez my rele name. I hev frequent," he added, turning round in easy confidenc e to the astonished Judge Boompointer, " I hev frequent allowed I was Gabriel Conroy — the same not being the truth. And the woman ez I married — her name was Grace Conroy. and the heap o' lies ez thet old liar over thar " (he indicated the gallant Colonel Starbottle with his finger) " hez told passes my pile ! Thet woman, my wife ez was and ez — waz Grace Conroy (To the Colonel gravely:/ "You hear me! And the only imposture, please your Honor and this yer Court, and you gentl'men, was ME ! " ir i^ 4 ' '♦ '"•, * -J- ' •^^ CHAPTER L. IN REBUITAL, Thk Utter and complete astonishment created by Gabriel's reply was so generally diffused that the equal participation of Gabriel's own counsel in this surprise was unobserved. Max well would have risen again hurriedly, but Arthur laid his hand on his shoulder. " The man has gone clean mad !— this is suicide," whispered Maxwell, excitedly. " We must get him off the stand. You must explain !" " Hush !" said Arthur, quickly. " Not a word ! Show any surprise and we're lost ! " in another instant all eyes were fixed upon Arthur, who had remained standing, outwardly calm. There was but one idea dominant in tlie audience. What revelation would the next IN REBUTTAL. 393 d ! Show any qiestion bring i* The silence became almost painful as Arthur quietly and self-containedly glanced around the Courtroom and at the jury, as if coolly measuring the effect of a carefully- planned dramatic sensation. Then, when every neck was bent forward and every ear alert, Arthur turned nonchalantly yci gracefully to the bench. " We have no further questions to ask, your Honour," he said, (juietly, and sat down. The effect of this simple, natural, and j»erfectly consistent action was tremendous I In the various triumphs of Arthur's successful career, he felt that he had never achieved as univer- sal and instantaneous popularity. Gabriel was forgotten ; the man who had worked up this sensation — a sensation whose darkly mysterious bearing upon the case no one could fathom, or even cared to fathom, but a sensation that each man confi- dently believed held the whole secret of the crime — this man was the hero ! Had it been suggested, the jury would have instantly given a verdict for this hero's client without leaving their seats, The betting was two to one on Arthur. I beg to observe that 1 am writing of men, impulsive, natural, and un- fettered in expression and action by any tradition of logic or artificial law — a class of beings much idealized by poets, and occasionally, 1 believe, exalted by latter-day philosojjhers. Judge Boompointer looked at Colonel Starbottlc. That gentleman, completely stunned and mystified by the conduct of the defence, fumbled his papers, coughed, exi)anded his chest, rose, and began the cross-examination. " You have said your name was — er — er — Johnny- er — er " (the Colonel was here obliged to consult his ijapers) " er John Dumbledee. What was your idea, Mr. Dumbledee, in— er — assuming the name of — er — er Gabriel Conroy ?" Objected to by counsel for defence. Argument :- -Firstly, motives, like beliefs, not admissible ; case cited ; H igginbottom 7>. Smithers. Secondly, not called out on Direct Ex. ; see Svvinke 7J Swanke, opinion of Muggins, J., 2 Cal. Rep. Thirdly, witness not obliged to answer questions tending to self-crimin- ation. Objection overruled by the Court. Precedent not cited; real motive, Curiosity. Boompointe:, J. Question repeated : — ■ ' 1 r ' ' '.'It! Iv- ' ,K" . *i %. •r • 'f;. l"lt«' »* I i •> 394 GABRIKL CONROY. " What 'vas your idea or motive in assuming the name of Gabriel Conroy ?" Gabriel (cunningly, and leaning confidentially over the arm of his ch.iir) : " Wot would be your idee of a motif ?" The witness, amidst much laughter, was, here severely in structed by the Court that the asking of questions was not the function of a witness. The witness must answer. Gabriel : " Well, Gabriel Conroy was a purty name — the name of a man ez I onst knew ez died in Starvation Camjj. It kinder came easy, ez a sort o' interduckshun, don't ye see, Jedge, toe his sister Grace, ez was my wife. I kindei reckon, between you and me, ez thet name sorter heljjed the courtin' along — she bein' a shy critter, outer her own fammerly." Question : " In your early acquaintance with the deceased, were you not known to him as Gabriel Conroy, always, and not as — er — er — Johnny Dumbledee ?" Arthur Poinsett here begged to call the attention of the Court to the fact that it had not yet been shown that Gabriel — -that is, Johnny Dumbledee — had ever had any early ac quaintance with the deceased. The Court would not fail to observe that counsel on the direct examination had restricted themselves to a simple question — the name of the prisoner. Objection sustained by Judge Boompointer, who was begin- ning to be anxious to get at the facts. Whereat Colonel Star bottle excepted, had no more questions to ask, and Gabriel was commanded to stand aside. Betting now five to one on Arthur Poinsett ; Gabriel's hand, on leaving the witness box, shaken cordially by a number ol hitherto disinterested people. Hurried consultation between defendent's counsel. A note handed to Colonel Starbottlc. Intense curiosity manifested by Manuela and Sal regarding :i closely veiled female, who enters a moment later, and is con ducted with an excess of courtesy to a seat by the gallant Colonel. General impatience of audience and jury. The defence resumed. Michael O'Flaherty called ; nativity. County Kerry, Ireland. Business, miner. On the night ol the murder, while going home from work, met deceased on Conroy's Hill, dodging in among the trees, for all the wurreld ■• .\ IN REBUTTAL. 395 the name of like a thafe. A few minutes later overtook Gabriel Conroy half a mile further on, on the same road, going in same direc- tion as witness, and walked with him to Lawyer Maxwell's office. (toss examined : Is naturalized. Always voted the l^immy- ( ratic ticket. Was always opposed to the Government- -bad cess to it — in the ould counthry, and isn't thet mane to go back on his i)rinciples here. I^oesn't know that a Chinaman lias affirmed to the same fact of Gabriel's alibi. Doesn't know what an alibi is; tliinks he would if he saw it. Believes a Chinaman is worse nor a nigger. Has noticed that Gabriel was left-handed. Amadce Michet, sworn for defence; nativity, France. Busi- ness, Foreman of La Par/ait Union. Frequently walks to himself in the beautiful grove on Conroy's Hill. Comes to him on the night of the 15th, Gabriel Conroy departing from his house. It is then seven hours, possibly more, not less. The night is fine. This Gabriel salutes him, in the American fashion, and is gone. Eastward. Ever to the cr.st. Watches M." Conroy because he wears a triste look^ as if there were great sadness here (in the breast of the witness' blouse). Sees him vanish in the gulch. Returns to the hill and there over- hears voices, a man's and a woman's. The woman's voice is that of Madame Conroy. The man's voice is to him strange and not familiar. Will swear positively it was not Gabriel's. Remains on the hill about an hour. Did not see Gabriel again. Saw a man and woman leave the hill and pass by the Wingdam road as he was going home. To the best of his belief the woman was Mrs. Conroy. Do not know the man. Is positive it was not Gabriel Conroy. Why? Eh! Mon Dieu, is it |)ossil)Ie that one should mistake a giant ? Cross Examined. Is a patriot — do not know what is this Democrat you call. Is a hater of aristo«rats. Do not know if the deceased was an aristocrat \Vas not enraged with Madame Conroy. Never made love to her. W'.s not jilted by her. This is all what you call too theen, eh ? Has noticed that the prisoner was left-handed. Helling l)it:ni;;nn; nativity, Germany. Does not know the deceased; does know Gabriel. Met him the night of the 15th 396 GA URIEL CON ROY. If;.,/. V. u. f Jr- ■ ■'I - • ■ • 5u/i '"•■ • ' » I )■■ .1 •I: '* 4 t^ • on the road from Wingdam ; thinks it was after eight o'cloc k. He was talking to u Chinaman. Cross Examined. Has not been told that these are the facts stated by the Chinaman. Believes a Chinaman as good as any other man. Don't know what you mean. How comch dese dings. Has noticed the prisoner used his left hand efery dime. Dr. Pressnitz recalled. Viewed the body at nine o'clock on the 1 6th. The blood stains on the linen and the body had been slightly obliterated and diluted with water, as if they had been subjected to a watery ajiplication. There was an un- usually heavy dew at seven o'clock that evening, not later. Has kept a meteorological record for the last three years. Is of the opinion that this saturation might be caused by dew falling on a clo^ of coagulated blood. The same effect would not be noticeable on a freshly bleeding wound. The hygic meter showed no indication of a later fall of dew. The night *was windy and boisterous after eight o'clock, with no humidity. Is of the opinion that the body as seen by him, first assumed its position before eight o'clock. Would swear positively that the deceased exi)ired before that time. Would swear positively that the wounds were not received after eight o'clock. From the position of the wound, should say it was received while the deceased was-in an upright position, and the arm raised as if in struggling. From the course of the wound should say it could not have been dealt from the left hand of an opponent. On the cross examination, Dr. Pressnitz admitted that many so-called " left handed men " were really ambi-dexterous. Was of the opinion that perspiration would nof have caused the saturation of the dead man's linen. The saturation was evi- dently after death — the blood had clotted. Dr. Pressnitz was quite certain that a dead man did not perspire. The defence rested amid a profound sensation. Colonel Starbottle, who had recovered his jaunty spirits, apparently influenced by his animated and gallant conversation with the veiled female, rose up on his short stubby feet, and withdrawing his handkerchief from his breast laid it upon the table before him. Then carefully placing the ends of two white pudgy fingers upon it, Colonel Starbottle gracefully threw his whole IN RERUITAL. 397 weight upon their tips, and leaning elegantly toward the veiled figure, called " Grace Conroy." The figure arose, slight, graceful, elegant ; hesitated a mo- ment, and then slipped a lissom shadow through the crowd as a trout glides through a shallow, and before the swaying, mov- ing mass had settled to astonished rest, stood upon the witness stand. Then with a quick dexterous movement she put aside the veil, that after the Spanish fashion wi s both bonnet and veil, and revealed a face so ex'^nisitely beautiful and gracious, that even Manuela and Sal were awed into speechless admir- ation. She took the oath with downcast lids, whose sweeping fringes were so perfect that this very act of modesty seemed to the two female critics as the most artistic coquetry, and then raised her dark eyes and fixed them upon Gabriel. Colonel Starbottle waved his hand with infinite gallantry. "What is — er — your name?" "Grace Conroy." " Have you a brother by the name of Gabriel Conroy?" " I iiave." " Ixjok around the Court and see if you can recognize him." The witness with her eyes still fixed on Gabriel pointed him out with her gloved finger. " I do. He is there !" " The prisoner at the bar ?" "Yes," '< He is Gabriel Conroy?" " He is." " How long is it since you have seen him ?•• " Six years." " Where did you see him last, and under what circupi- stances?" " At Starvation Camp, in the Sierras. I left there to gel help for him and my sister." " And you have never seen him sinc2 ?" " Never ! " " Are you aware that among the — er — er — unfortunates who perished, a body that was alleged to be yours was identified ?" "Yes." " Can you explain that circumstance ?" <* Yes. When I left 1 wore a suit of boy's clothes. I left I 'V*. » r* '■ '■» . '. / f ' ' '.. . .'.' ■ . »*■ ' ^ ' ■ • :■ >««•„,• * P ,».;•,. - Ik'-* • • , , 'il •' ■' ijr.-:. 398 GABRIEL CON ROY. my own garments for Mrs. Pclcr Ouniphv, one of our |urtv It was her L»udy, clothed in my garments, lliat was identHud as myself. '* ilave you any proof o{ that faet other than your st.iii men I ?" *' Yes. Mr. Peter Dumphy, the husband of Mrs. Duinj^hv. my brother (inbriel Conroy. and ' '* May it please the Court " (the voice was Arthur roinsett's. cool, quiet, and languidly patient), *' may it please the Court. we of the defence — io save your Honour and the jury sduu time and trouble — are willing to admit this identihcatitin ot our client as Ciabriel Conroy, and the witness, without furtlur corroboration than her own word, its his sister. Your Honour and tlie gentlemen of the jury will not fail to recogni/e in tlu' evidence of our client as to his own name ani\ origin, a rash, foolish, and, on behalf of myself and my colle;igue, I must add. unadvised attempt to .save the reputation of the wife he deeply loves from the equally unadvised and extraneous evident' brought forward by the prosecution. But we must insist, your Honour, that all this is impertinent to the real issue, the kill ing of Victor Ramirez by John J)oe, alias (iabriel Conroy. Admitting the facts just testified to by the witness, Grace Con- roy, we have no cro.ss-examination to make." The face of the witness, which had been pale and self- possessed, flushed suddenly as she turned her eyes upon Arthur Poinsett. But that self-contained scamp retiiined an unmoved countenance as, at Judge Boompointer's unusually gracious instruction that the witness might retire, (irace Con- roy left the stand. To a question from the Court, Colonel Starbottle intimated that he should offer no further evidence in rebuttal. • • -' • • • • > " May it ])lease the Court," said Arthur, quietly, " if we accept the impeachment by a sister of a brother on trial for his life, without comment or cross-examination, it is because wc are confident — -legally confident — of showing the innocence of that brother by other means. Recognizing the fact that this trial is not for the identification of the prisoner under nnv name or alias, but simply upon the issue of the fact, whether he did or did not commit murder upon the body of Victor IN RKHl ITAl,. aj>i» n your sUlc ur roinsitts. the C\)iiM. 10 jury some nlification ot ihout I'urtlui Tour Honour Dgiii/c in tlu )rigin, a rash, , I must ailil. ife he (leeplv ius evidence St insist, yon I ssue, the kill Jriel Conroy. ), Grace Cdm- > retiiined an r's unusually ;, (iraee Con- ourt, Colonel T evidence in Rnniiro/. as speciHod in the intlictnient. wo now. waivinj; all other issues, prepare to prove his uuioconco l>y a single witness. That this wuness was n»'i produced earlier, was una>oiil.d>lo ; thai his testimonv w.is not outhnod in the openuij:. was tlue to the tact that i)nlv within the last hah lu>iir I».\d he been wuhin the reach of the mandate ot this Court." I le wouUl * .ill llenrv Perkins ! There w.is a slight stir among the spectators hy the door as they made wtxy to a »piaint ligurc that, clad in garments ol" a hygone fashion, with a pale, wrmklod. vollow tace, .M\i\ grev hair. I'roin whi* h the dve had laded, stepped upon the stand. Is a translator ol Spanish and .searcher of deeds to the Land Coinmission. Is called an export. Recognises the prist)ner at the bar. Saw lum onlv «)me, two davs before the nuuiler. in passing over C'onrov's Ilill. lie was sitting on the door step of a iloserted cabin with a little girl bv his side. Saw the deceased twiie. ()nt [ 1 1 ■■- ti \r '.I;' . ■ 'r ■: 400 OAHRIF.I, OCNROY. oi insensibility. Witness bcramc alarmed, rcHcciinp; upon tlu threat of the deceased, .ind did not go for help. While stand ing irresolutely by the body, Mrs. Conroy, the |)risoner's wife, came upon him. Confessed to her the details just described, and the threat of the deceased. She advised the instant flight of the witness, and offered to go with him herself. Witness procured a horse and buggy from a livery stable, and at half past nine at night took Mrs. (!onroy (roin the hillside near the road, where she was waiting. Drove to Markleville that night. where he left her under an assumed name, and came alone tu San Francisco and the Mission of San Antonio. Mere he learned from the last witness, the prisoner's sister, (Jra(c Conroy, of the arrest of her brother for murder. Witness at once returned to One Horse (iulch, only to find the adminis- tration of justice in the hands of a Vigilance Committee. Feeling that his own life might be sacrificed without saving the prisoner's, he took refuge in a tunnel on Conroy's Hill. It chanced to be the same tunnel which Cabriel (lonroy and his friend afterwards sought in escajiing from the Vigilance Com mittee after the earthquake. Witness, during the ab.sence of Cabriel, made himself known to Mr. Jack Hamlin, Gabriel's friend and comrade in flight, and assured him of the witness's intention to come forward whenever a fair trial could be accorded to Cabriel. After the re-arrest and bailing of (jabriel, witness returned to San Francis<:o to procure evidence regard ing the forged grant, and proofs of Ramirez's persec ution of Mrs. Conroy. Had brought with him the knife, and had found the cutler who sold it to deceased eight months before, when deceased first meditated an assault on Mrs. Conroy. Objected to, and objection overruled by a deeply interested and excited Court. "Thnt is all," said Arthur. ' Colonel Starbottle, seated beside Grace Conroy, did not, for a moment, respond to the impatient eyes of the audience in the hush that followed. It was not until Grace Conroy whispered a few words in his ear, that the gallant Colonel lifted his dilated breast and self-complacent face above the level of the seated counsel. " What — er — er — wa«= Hie reason — why did the — or — er deep- 7. A FAMIIY r.REF.TING. 401 ly anxious wife, who fled with you, and thus precipitated the arrest of her husband — why did not she return with you to clear him from suspicion? Why does she remain absent?" "She was taken ill — dangerously ill at Marklcville. The ex- citement and fatigue of the journey had brought on premature confinement. A child was born " 'J'here was a sudden stir among the group beside the prison- er's chair. Colonel Starbottle, with a hurried glance at (irace Conroy, waved his hand toward the witness and sat down. Arthur Poinsett rose. " We ask a moment's delay, your Honour. The prisoner has fallen in a fit." CHAP'IKR TX A FAMII.Y GREETING. When riabviel opened his eyes to consciousness, he was lying on the floor of the jury room, his head supj)orted by Oily, and a slight, graceful womanly figure, that had been ap- parently bending over him, in the act of slowly withdrawing from his awakening gaze. Jt was sister Grace. " Thar, you're better now," said Oily, taking her brother's hand, and quietly ignoring her sister, on whom Gabriel's eyes were still fixed. " Try and raise yourself inter this chair. Thar — thar now — that's a good old Gabe — thar I re( kon you're more comfortable !" "It's Gracey !" whispered Gabriel, hoarsely, with his eyes still fixed upon the slight, elegantly dressed woman, who now, leaning against the doorway stood coldly regarding him. " It's Gracey — your sister, Oily !" " Ef you mean the woman who hez been tryin' her best to swar away your life, and kem here allowin* to do it — she ain't no sister o' mine — not," added Oily, with a withering glance at the simple elegance of her sister's attire, " not even ef she does trapse in yer in frills and tuckers — more shame for her ! " v\ /.'• '••' ■*., 402 GABRIEL CONROY. " If you mean," said Grace, coldly, "the girl whose birth- right you took away by marrying the woman who stole it, if you mean the girl who rightfully bears the name that you denied, under oath, in the very shadow of the gallows, she claims nothing of you but her name." " Thet's so," said Gabriel, simply. He dropped his head between his great hands, and a sudden tremor shook his hugj frame. " Ye ain't goin' to be driv in.er hisleriks agin along o' that crockodill," said Oily, bending over her brother in alarm, '' don't ye — -don't ye cry, Gabe !" whimpered Oily, as a few drops oozed between Gabriel's fingers ; " don't ye take on, darling, afh'-e her/" The two sisters glared at each other over the helpless man between them. Then another woman entered who looked sympathetically at Gabriel and then glared at thc:n both. It was Mrs. Markle. At which, happily for Gabriel, the family bickering ceased. "It's all over, Gabriel! you're clar!" said Mrs. Markle, ignoring the sympathies as well as the presence of the two other ladies. " Here's Mr. Poinsett." He entered quickly, but stopped and Pushed slightly under the cold eyes of Grace Conroy. But only for a moment. Coming to Gabriel's side, he said, kindly, " Gabriel, I con- gratulate you. The acting District Attorney has entered a nolle prosequi, and you are discharged." *' Ye mean I kin go," said Gabriel, suddenly lifting his face. " Yes. You are as free as air." "And e/. lo her!'' asked Gabriel, quickly. " Who do you mean ?" replied Arthur, involuntaril)' glanc- ing in the direction of Grace, whose eyes dropped scornfully before him. - " My wife — July — is she clar too?" " As far as this trial is corkcerned, yes," returned Arthur, with a trifle less interest in his voice, which Gabriel was quick to discern. " Then I'll go," said Gabriel, rising to his feet. He made a few steps to the door and then hesitated, stopped, and turned r A FAMILY GREETING. 403 toward Grace. As he did so his old apologetic, troubled, diffi- dent manner returned. " Ye'U exkoos me. Miss," he said, looking with troubled eyes upon the newly-found sister, " ye'U exkoos me, ef I haven't the time now to do the agreeable and show ye over yer property on Conroy's Hill. But it's thar! It's all thar, ez Lawyer Maxwell kin testify. It's all thar and the house is open, ez it always was to ye, ez the young woman ^ho keeps the house kin tell ye. I'd go thar with ye ef I hed time, but I'm startin' out now, to-night, to see July. To see my wife, Miss Conroy, to see July ez is expectin' I And I reckon thar'll be a baby — a pore little, helpless newborn baby — ony so long!" added Gabriel, exhibiting his forefinger as a degree of mensuration, " and ez a fammerly man, being ladies, I reckon you reckon I oughter be thar,'" (I grieve to state that at this moment the ladies appealed to exchanged a glance of supreme contemi)t, and am proud to record that Lawyer Maxwell and Mr. Poinsett exhibited the only exj)ression of sympathy with the speaker, that was noticeable in the group.) Arthur detected it and said, I fear none the less readily for that knowledge — " Don't let us keep you, Gabriel ; we understand your feel- ings. Go at once." ** Take me along, Gabe," said Oily, flashing her eyes at her sister, and then turning to (iabriel with a quivering upi)er lip. Gabriel turned, swooped his tremendous arm around Oily, lifted her bodily off her feet, and saying, *' You're my own little uirl," vanished through the doorway. This movement reduced the group to Mrs. Markle and Grace Conroy, confronted by Mr. Poinsett and Maxwell. Mrs. Markle relieved an embarrassing silence by stepping forward and taking the arm of Lawyer Maxwell and leading him away. Arthur and Grace were left alone. For the first time in his life Arthur lost his readiness and self-command. He glanced awkwardly at the woman before him, and felt that neither conventional courtesy nor vague r.entimental recollection would be effective here. " I om waiting for my rjaiJ/' Ciiid Gm.ce, coldly; " if, as yoi; 404 GABRIEL CONROY. Hi ,1 . ,1 , ♦>> ' 'A' •J- ■■Ait return to the Court-room, you will send her here, you will oblige me." Arthur bowed confusedly. " Your maid " " Yes ; you know her, I think, Mr. Poinsett," continued Grace, lifting her arched brows with cold surprisg. " Man- uela!" Arthur turned pale and red. He was conscious of being not only awkward but ridiculous. "Pardon me — perhaps I am troubling you — I will go myself," said (irace, contemptuously. " One moment. Miss Conroy," said Arthur, instinctively stepping before her as she moved as if to pass hirn, " one moment, I beg." He paused, and then said, with less de- liberation and more impulsively than had been his habit for the last six years, " You will, perhaps, be more forgiving to your brother if you know that I, who have had ti e pleasure of meeting you since — you were lost to us all — I, who have not had his preoccupation of interest in another — even I, have been as blind, as foolish, as seemingly heardess as he. You will remember this. Miss Conroy — I hope quite as much for its implied compliment to your complete disguise, and an evidence of the success of your own endeavors to obliterate your iden- tity, as for its being an excuse for your brother's conduct, if not for my own. / did not know you." Grace Conroy paused and raised her dark eyes to his. " You spoke of my brother's preoccupation with — with the woman for whom he would have sacrificed anything — me — his very life ! I can — I am a woman — I can understand tAat ! You have forgotten Don Arturo, you have forgotten — pardon me — I am not finding fault — it is not for me to find fault — but you have forgotten — Donna Maria Sepulvida!" She swept by him with a rustle of silk and lace, and was gone. His heart gave a sudden bound ; he was about to follow her, when he was met at the door by the expanding bosom of Colonel Starbottle, " Permit me, sir, as a gentleman, as a man of — er — er — er — honor ! to congratulate you, sir ! When we — er — er — parted iq San Francisco I did not think that I would have the — er— •t. A FAMILY r.REETINU. 405 er — pleasure — a rare pleasure to Colonel Starbottle, sir, in his private as well as his— er — er — public ca[)acity of — er — er — a PUBLIC APOLOGY. Ged, sir! I have ijiade it! Cied, sir! when I entered that nolle pros^ I said to myself, ' Star., this is an apology — an apology, sir ! But you are responsible, sir, you are res])onsible. Star. ! personally responsible !' " " I thank you," said Arthur abstractedly, still straining his eyes after the retreating figure of (irace C'onroy, and trying to combat a sudden instinctive jealousy of the man before him, " 1 thank you, Colonel, on behalf of my client and myself." " (ied, sir," said Colonel Starbottle, blocking up the way, with a general expansiveness of demeanor, " Ged, sir, this is not all. You will remember that our recent interview in San Francisco was regarding another and a different issue. That, sir, I am proud to say, the developments of evidence in this trial have honorably and — er — er — as a lawyer, 1 may say, have legally settled. With the — er — er — identification and legal — er — er — rehabilitation of Grace Conroy, that claim of my client falls to the ground. You may state to your client, Mr. Poinsett, that — er^ — er — upon my own personal responsi- bility I abandon the claim." Arthur Poinsett stopped and looked fixedly at the gallant Colonel. Even in his sentimental preoccupation the profes- sional habit triumj^hed. "You withdraw Mrs. Dumphy's claim upon Mr. Dumphy?" he said, slowly. Colonel Starbottle did not verbally reply, but that gallant warrior allowed the facial muscles on the left side of his face to relax so that one eye was partially closed, " Yes, sir, — there is a matter of a few thousand dollars that — er--er — you understand I am — er — er — personally responsi- ble for." •'That will never be claimed, Colonel Starbottle," said Arthur, smiling, "and I am only echoing, I am sure, the sentiments of the man most concerned, who is approaching us — Mr. Dumphy." t... ; r ■» 40G GABRIEL CONROY. CTTAPTER LIl. ti "'i ii^^>-' |*v ■■• >■ IN WHICH thp: footprints kkturn. Mr. Jack Hamlin was in very bad case. When Dr. Duchesne, who had been summoned from Sacramento, arrived, that eminent surgeon had instantly assumed such light-heart^ cdness and levity toward his patient, such captiousness toward Pete, with an occasional seriousness of demeanor when he was alone, that, to those who knew him, it was equal to an unfav- orable prognosis. Indeed, he evaded the direct questioning of Oily, Vvho had lately constituted herself a wondrously light- footed, soft-handed assistant of Pete, until one day, when they were alone, he asked more seriously than was his wont, if Mr. Hamlin had ever spoken of his relations, or if she knew of any of his friends who were accessible. Oily had already turned this subject over in her womanly mind, and had thought once or twice of writing to the Blue Moselle, but on the direct questioning of the doctor, and its I)eculiar significance, she recalled Jack's confidences on their midnight ride, and the Spanish beauty he had outlined, and so one evening, when she was alone with her patient, and the fever was low, and Jack lay ominously patient and submissive, she began — what the doctor had only lately abandoned — probing a half-healed wound. " 1 reckon you'd hcv been a heap more comfortable ef this thing hed happened to ye down thar in St. Antonio," said Oily. Jack rolled his dark eyes wonderingly upon his fair persecu- tor. " Vou know you'd hev had thet thar sweetlieart o' yours — that Mexican woman — sittin' by ye, instead o' me — and Pete," suggested the artful Olympia, Jack nearly leaped fiom the bed. " Do you reckon I'd hev rung myself in as a wandering cripple— -a tramp thet had got ])cppcred — on a lady like 7/^/'? Look yer, Oliy," continued Mr. Hamlin, raising himself on his elbow, "if you've got the idea thet thet woman is one of th. n '--; s\ A-> IN WF1ICH THE FOOTPRINTS RKTIJRN. 407 hospital sharps — one of them angels who waltz round a sick man with a bottle of camphor in one hand and a tract in the other— you had better disabuse your mind of it at once, Miss Conroy ; take a back seat and wait for a new deal. And don't you go to talkin' of thet lady as my sweetheart — it's — it's — sacrilegious — and the meanest kind of a bluff." As the day of the trial drew near, Mr. Hamlin hvA expressed bu' little interest in it, and had evidently only withheld his geieral disgust of Gabriel's weakness from consideration of his sister. Once Mr. Hamlin condescended to explain his apparent coldness. " There's a witness coming, Oily, that'll clear your brother — more shame for him — the man ez dtJ kill Ramirez. I'm keej)- ing my sympathies for that chaj). Don't you be alarmed. If that man don't come up to the scratch 1 will. So -don't you go whining round. And ef you'll take my advice, you'll keep clear o' that Court, and let them lawyers fight it out. It will be time enough for you to go when they send for me." " But you can't move — you ain't strong enough," said Oily. " I reckon Pete will get me there some way if he has to pack me on his back. I ain't a heavy weight now," said Jack, look- ing sadly at his thin white hands ; " Tve reckoned on that, and even if 1 should pass in my checks there's an affidavit already sworn to in Maxwell's hands." Nevertheless, on the day of the trial. Oily, still doubtful of Gabriel, and still mindful of his capacity to develop " God for- saken mulishness," was nervous and uneasy, until a messenger arrived from Maxwell, with a note to Hamlin, carrying the tidings of the appearance of Perkins in Court, and closing with a request for Olly's presence. " Who's Perkins?" asked Oily, as she reached for her hat in nervous excitement. "He's no slouch," said Jack, sententiously. "Don't ask questions. It's all right with Gabriel now," he added assuringly. " He's as good as clear. Run away. Miss Conroy. Hold up a minit I There, kiss me ! Took here, Oily, say 1 — do you take any stock in that lost sister of yours that your fool of a brother is always gabbing about? You do? Well, you are as big a fool as he ! There ! There ! — never mind now — she's RT-. TmV I;; II '■■■ .:** '•'•■••• « • '* ^•? ' » I r I 408 GAURIEL CONKOY. turned up at last ! Much good may it do you. One ! two ! — go !" and as Olly's pink ribl)ons flashed through the doorway, Mr. Hamlin laid down again with a twinkle in his eye. He was alone. The house was very quiet and still ; most of the guests, and the hostess and her assistant, were at the all-absorbing trial ; even the faithful Pete, unconscious of any possiole defection of his assistant, Oily, had taken tlie oppor- tunity to steal away to hear the arguments of counsel. As the retreating footsteps of Oily echoed along the vacant corridor, he felt that he possessed the house completely. This consciousness to a naturally active man, bored by ill- ness, and the continuous presence of attendants, however kind and devoted, was at first a relief Mr. Hamlin experienced an instant desire to get up and dress himself, to do various things which were forbidden — but wliich now an overruling Provi- dence had apparently i)laced within his reach. He rose with great di^culty, and a physical weakness that seemed altogether inconsistent with tlie excitement he was then feeling, and par- tially dressed himself Then he was suddenly overtaken with great faintness and vertigo, and staggering to the open window fell in a chair beside it. The cool breeze revived him for a moment, and he tried to rise, but found it impossible. Then the faintness and vertigo returned, and he seemed to be slip- ping away somewhere — not altogether uni)Ieasantly, nor against his volition — somewhere where there was darkness and stillness and rest. And then he slii)ped back, almost instantly as it seemed to him, to a room full of excited and anxious people, all extravagantly, and as he thought, ridiculously concerned about himself He tried to assure them that he was all right, and not feeling any worse for his exertion, but was unable to make them understand him. Then followed Night, rejjlete with pain, and filled with f^imiliar voices that spoke unintelligi- bly, and then Day, devoted to the monotonous repetition of the last word or phrase that the doctor, or Pete, or Oily had used, or the endless procession of Olly's pink ribbons, and the tremulousness of a window curtain, or the bku k, sj)hinx-like riddle of a pattern on the bed-quilt, or the wall paper. Then there was sleep that was turburlent nnd conscious, and wakeful- ness that was lethargic and dim, and then infinite wearines.s •-..■v IN WHICH MR. HAM r, IN PASSES. 40U and then, lapses of utter vacuity — the occasional ominous im- pinging of the shadow of death. Hut through this chaos there was always a dominant central figure — a figure partly a memory, and as such, surrounded by consistent associations ; partly a reality and incongruous with its surroundings— the figure of Donna Dolores ! But whether this figure came back to Mr. Hamlin out of the dusky arches of the Mission Church in a cloud of incense, besprinkling him with holy water, or whether it bent over him, touching his feverish lips with cool drinks, or smoothing his pillow, a fact utterly unreal and i)reposterous seen against the pattern of the wall paper, or sitting on the familiar chair by his bedside — it was always there. And when, one day, the figure stayed longer, and the interval of complete consciousness seemed more pro- tracted, Mr. Hamlin, with one mighty effort, moved his lips, and said feebly — " Donna Dolores ! " The figure started, leaned its beautiful face, blushing a celes- tial rosy red, above his own, put its finger to its perfect lips, and said in plain English — " Hush ! I am Gabriel Conroy's sibter." CHAPTER I.III. IN WHICH MR. HAMLIN PASSES. With his lips sealed by the positive mandate of the lovely spectre, Mr. Hamlin resigned himself again to weakness and sleep. When he awoke, Oily was sitting by his bedside ; the dusky figure of Pete, spectacled and reading a good book, was dimly outlined against the window — but that was all. The vision — if vision it was — had fled. "Oily," said Mr. Hamlin, faintly. « Y^.^ I ' gj^i^j Oily, opening her eyes in expectant sym[)athy. a B > t V M ■' *. y: -■■■:. '■ ■' t :' ^ % . . ,< ► , . ' ■»- '■» l:V. ■'.' i ■ ' * I % 410 CAimiKL CON ROY. " How long — have I been dr — 1 mean how long has this— spell lasted ? " " Three days," said Oily. " The you say ! " (a humane and possibly weak consi- deration for Mr. Hamlin in his new weakness and suffering, restricts me to a mere outline of his extravagance of speech.) " But you are belter now," supplemented Oily. Mr. Hamlin began to wonder faintly if his painful experience of the last twenty-four hours were a part of his convalescence. He was silent for a few moments and then suddenly turned his face toward Oily. " Didn't you say something about — about — your sister the other day ? " " Yes — she's got back," said Oily, curtly. "Here?" " Here." "Well?" said Ivlr. Hamlin, a little impatiently. "Well," returned Oily, with a slight toss of her curls, "she's got back, and I reckon it's about time she did." Strange to say, Olly's evident lack of appreciation o^ her sister seemed to please Mr. Hamlin — possibly because it agreed with his own idea of Cirace's superiority and his inability to recognize or accept her as the sister of Gabriel. " Where has she been all this while? " asked Jack, rolling his large hollow eyes over Oily. " Goodness knows ! Says she's been livin' in some fammerly down in the south — Spanish, I reckon ; thet's whar she gits those airs and graces." "Has she ever been here — in this room?" asked Mr. Hamlin. " Of course she has," said Oily. " When I left you to go with Gabe to see his wife at Wingdam, she volunteered to take my ])lace. Thet woz while you woz flighty, Mr. Hamlin. But I reckon she admired to stay here on account of seein' her bo !" "Her what?" asked Mr. Hamlin, feeling the blood fast rushing to his colorless face. " Her bo," repeated Oily, " thet thar Ashley, or Poinsett— or whatever he calls hisscif now !" IN WHICH MR. HAMLIN PASSES. 411 long has this— -your sister the i?" asked Mr. the blood fast I or Poinsett— Mr. Hamlin here looked so singularly, and his hand ti^lil- ened so strongly iround Olly's that she hurriedly rei)eated to him the story of (irace's early wanderings, and iier absorbing passion for their former associate, Arthur Poinsett. The state- ment was, in Olly's present state of mind, not favorable to Grace. " And she just came up yer only to see Arthur agin. Thet's all. And she nearly swearin' her brother's life away — and pretendin' it was only done to save the faninicrly name. Jest ez if it hed been any more comfortable fur (iabricl to have been hung in his own name. And then goin' and accusin' thet innocent ole lamb, (iabe, of conspiring with July to take her name away. Purty goin's on, 1 reckon. And thet man Poinsett, by her own showin' — never lettin' on to see her nor us — nor anybody. And she sassin' ///ulsc), "you s a (juick as something in (this he said, r life.'* "I've been acious smile, iw out now. quietly, still '. Then re- velling com- locality was e Mission of edication, or K'lto unsus- riio prepara- a few hours nd me," he c the buartl. Notwithstanding whirh, at tlir last moment, (lahriel hung awkwardly and heavily around the carriage in whic h the invalid was seated. "I'd foller nrter ye, Mr. Hnmlin, in a buggy," he inter- polated, in gentle deprecation of his unwieldy and ditfu ult bulk, *' but I'm sorter kept yer with my wife who is powerful weak along of a pore small baby- about so long -the same not bein' a fammerly t;i.in yourself, you don't kinder get the hang of. 1 thought it might please ye to know that I got bail yesterday for thet Mr. Perkins- ez didn't kill that thar Ramirez, —the same havin' killed hisself e/ wo/ fet( hed out on the trial which I reckon ye didn't get to hear. I admire to see ye lookin' so well, Mr. Hamlin, and I'm glad Olly's goin' with ye. 1 reckon (Irace would hev gone too, but .she's sorter skary about strangers, hevin' bin engaged these seving years to a young man by the name o' Poinsett ez waz one o' my < ounsel, and hevin' lately had a row with the same — one o' them lovers' fights whi( h bein' a young man yourself, ye kin kindly allow for." " Drive on !" imprecated Mr. TTamlin furiously to the driver ; " what are you waiting for ?" and with the whirling wheels Ciabriel dropped off apologetically in a cloud of dust, and Mr. Hamlin sank back exhaustedly on the cushions. Notwithstanding, as he increased his distance from One Horse Gulch, his spirits seemed to rise, and by the time they had reached San Antonio he had recovered his old audacity and dash of manner, and raised the highest hopes in the breast of everybody but— his Doctor. Yet that gentleman, after a careful examination of his patient one night, said privately to Pete, " I think this exaltation will last about three days longer. I am going to San Francisco. At the end of that time I shall return— unless you telegraph to me before that." He i)arted gaily from from his patient, and seriously from everybody else. Before he left he sought out Padre Felipe. " 1 have a |)atient here in a critical condition," said the Doctor; "the hotel is no place for him. Is there any family here — any house that will receive him under your advice for a week ? At the end of that time he will be better, or beyond our ministration. He is i *•• • ■> ■ I , y. 414 CiAHRIFI. CONROY. not a Protestant— he is nothing. V'ou have liatl experience with the heathjn, Father Feh|)e." Father l''elij)e lofjked at I>r. Duchesne. The Doctor's well earned pr(;fessional fame had penetrated even San Antonio; the Doctor's insight and intelhgence were visible in his manner, and touched the Jesuit instantly. " It is a strange case, my son ; a sad <\ise," he said, thoughtfully. " I will see." He did. The next day, under the direlay, and even the anxious incpiiries of Oily, and said to Mr. Hamlin — • " Have you any objections to my sending for Dr. Mac kin- to.^h--a devilish (lever fellow?" And Mr. Hamlin had none. And so, altera private telegram, Dr. Mackintosh arrivctl, and for three or four lK)urs the two doctors talked in an ajjparently unintelligible language, chiefly about a person whom Mr. Hamlin was satisfied did not exi.st. And when Dr. Macintosh left, Dr. Duchesne, after a very earnest conversation with him on their way to the stage office, drew a chair beside Mr. Hamlin's bed. "Jack!" - " Yes, sir." ■ • "Have you got everything fixed- all right?" " Yes sir." "Jack!" " Ves, sir." " You've made Pete very happy this morning." Jack looked up at Dr. Duchesne's critical face, and the Doctor went on, gravely — - • " Confessing religion to him — saying you believed as he did!" •'■ . ' « • ■■■■» . , . *. •' < t.- rvv i«. J ■ '. I 4 416 GA URIEL CON ROY. A faint laugh glimmered in the dark hollows of Jark's eyes. " The old man," he said, exi)lanatory, " has been preachin mighty heavy at me ever since t'other doctor came, and I re( koned it might ])lease him to allow that everything he said was so. You see- the old man's bin right soft on me, and between us, Doctor, f ain't much to give him in exchange. It's no square game I" "Then you believe you're going to die?" said the Doctor gravely " I reckon." " And you have no directions to give me?" " There's a black hound at .Sacramento — Jim Briggs, who borrowed and never gave back my silver-mounted 1 )erringers, that I reckoned to give to you I Tell him he'd better give them up or I'll — " "Jack," interrui)ted Dr. Duchesne, with infinite gentleness, laying his hand on the invalid's arm, " you must not think of me." Jack pressed his friend's hand. " There's my diamond pin up the s])out at Wingdam, and the money gone to Lawyer Maxwell to pay witnesses for that old fool Gabriel. And then when Gabriel and me was escaping 1 happened to strike the very man, Perkins, who was (iabriel's principal witness, and he was dead broke, and I had to give him my solitaire ring to help him get away and be on hand for (iabriel. And Olly's got my gold specimen to be made into a mug for that cub of that old she tiger Gabriel's woman — ti,at Madame Devarges. And my watch — who /las got my watch ?" said Mr. Hamlin, reflectively. " Never mind those things, Jack. Have you any word to send — to— anybody ?" " No." There was a long pause. In the stillness the ticking of a clock on the mantle became audiljle. Therj there was a laugh in the ante-room, where a professional brother of Jack's had been waiting, slightly under the influence of grief and liquor. " Scotty ought to know better — than to kick up a row in a decent woman's house," v/hispered Jack, faintly. " Tell him to di-y up, or I'll- IN WHICH Mk. HAMI.IN I'AS^^KS. 4\1 J ark's eyes. :n i)reachin inie, and I ling he said >n nie, and ian«,re. It's tlie Doctor Briggs, who 1 )erringers, better give gentleness, lot think of rigdam, and sses for that /as escaping as (rabriel's had to give on hand for nade into a oman — ii.at ny watch ?" ny word to ticking of a was a laugh 'Jack's had id liquor. ) a row in a Tell him to But his voice was failing him, and the sentence remained incomplete. '• Doc " (after a long effort) "jack." " Don't— let— on— to Pete— I fooled- him." " No, Jack." They were both still for several minutes. And then Dr. Duchesne softly released his hand and laid that of his patient, white and thin, ujwn the coverlid before him. Then he rose gently and oj^ened the door of the ante-room. Two or three eager faces confronted him. " Pete," he said gravely, " 1 want Petc*»no one else.'* The old negro entered with a trembling step. And then catching sight of the white face on the pillow, he uttered one cry — a < ry rej)lete with all the hy.sterical j)athos of his race, and ran and dropi)ed on his knees bcside~it ! And then the black and the white face were near together, and both were wet with tears. Dr. Duchesne stei)ped forward and would have laid hi,-, hand gently upon the old servant's shoulder. But he stopped, for suddenly both of the black hands were lifted wildly in the air, and the black face with rapt eyeballs tiirned toward the ceiling, as if they had caught sight of the steadfast blue beyond. Perhaps they had. " O de Lord (iod ! whose prechiss blood washes de brack sheep and de white sheej) all de one color! O do Lamb ob God I Sabe, sabe dis ])or', dis por' boy. O Lord (iod for MV sake. O de Lord (iod, dow knowst fo' twenty years Pete, ole Pete, has walked in dy ways — has found de Lord and Him crucified ! — and has been dy servant. O dc Lord (Jod — () de bressed Lord, ef it's all de same to you, let all dat go fo' nowl. L^t ole Pete go ! and send down dy mercv and forgiveness to ////;/ / " »• ♦ ' 1, .. ^ >• <• •••» .. ns OARRIKL CONROY. '•1 ■. . • t *' ' ' . t |i/fr;^. '*, •?'• • ; .-■ ■> t CHAPTER LIV. IN THE OLD CABIN AiiAIN. There was little difficulty in establishing the validity of Grace Conroy's claim to the Conroy grant under the becjuest of Dr. Devarges. Her identity was confirmed by Mr. Duiiiphy — none the less readily that it relieved him of a distressing doubt about the la^e Mrs. Dumphy, and did not affect his claim to the mineral discovery which he had purchased from Gabriel and iiis wife. It was true that since the dropping of the lead the mine had l)een virtually abandoned, and was comjjaratively of little market value. But Mr. Dumphy still clung to the hope that the missing lead would be discovered. He was right. It was some weeks after the death of Mr. Hamlin, that Gabriel and Oily stood again beneath the dis- mantled roof-tree and bare walls of his old cabin on Conroy Hill. But the visit this time was not one of confidential dis- closure nor lonely contemplation, but with a practical view of determining wh -ther this first home of the brother and sister could be repaircLJ and made habitable, for Gabriel had steadily refused the solicitations of Grace that he should occupy his more recent mansion. Mrs. Conroy and infant were at the hotel. " Thar, Oily," said Gabriel, " I reckon that a cartload o' boards and a few days' work with willin' hands, will put that thar shanty back ag'ir ez it used to be when you and me waz childun." : , " Yes," said Oily, abstractedly. " We've had good times yer, Oily, you and me ! " , " Yes," said Oily, with eyes still afar. Gabriel looked down — a great way — on his sister, and then suddenly took her hand and sat down upon the doorstep, drawing hei between his knees after the old fashion. " Ye ain't Iic.u'-.enin' to me, Oily dear ! " Whereat Miss 01ymi)ia instantly and illogically burst into tears, and threw her small arms about Gabriel's huge bulk. IN THE OLD CABIN AGAIN. 419 iity of Grace }uest of Dr. iiphy — none d(jubt about laim to the (iabriel and the lead the paratively of to die hope eath of Mr. ath the dis- 1 on Conroy fidential dis- ;ticai view of iv and sister had steadily occupy his were at the cartload o' nil put that and me waz ■% tr, and then le doorstep, r burst into huge bulk. She had l.-'on capricions and fretful since Mr. Hamlin's death, and it may be that she embraced the dead man again in her brother's arms. But her ofltward expression was, "(Iracey ! I was thinking o' poor Gracey, Gabe ! " " Then," said Gabriel, with intense archness and cunninir. "you was thinkin' o' present kempany, for ef I ain't blind, that's them coming up the hill." There were two figures slowly corning up the hill outlined against the rosy sunset. A man and woman - Arthur Poinsett and (irace Conroy. Oily lifted her head and rose to her feet. 1 hey apj^roached nearer. No one spoke. The next instant — impulsively I admit, inconsistently I protest- the sisters were in eacli other's arms. The two men looked at each other, awkward, reticent, superior. Then the women having made quick work of it, ihe two men were treated to an equally illogical, incr nsistent embrace. When Grace at last, crying and laughing, released (iabriel's neck from her sweet arms, IMr. Poinsett assumed the masculine attitude of pure reason. " Now that you have found your sister, permit me to intro- duce you to my wife," he said to Gabriel, taking Grace's hand in his own. Whereat Oily flew into Poinsett's arms, and gave him a fra- ternal and conciliator)' kiss. Tableau. '* You don't look like a bride," said the prac tical Oily to Mrs. Poinsett, under her breath, "you ain't got no veil, no orange blossoms — and that black dress " " We've been married seven years, Oily," said the quick-eared and ready-witted Arthur. And then these people began to chatter as if they had always been in the closest confidence and communion. " You know," said Grace to her brother, " Arthur and I are going East, to the States, to-morrow, and really, (iabe, he says he will not leave here until you consent to take back you- house — your wife's house. Gabe. You know WE " (there was a tremendous significance in this newly-found personal plural), " WE have deeded it all to you." " 1 hev a dooty to perform to Gracey," said Gabriel Conroy, with astute deliberation, looking at Mr. Poinsett, " a dooty to 5: 420 OABRIEL CONROY. ■'■'I .. tt 4 thet gal, thet must be done afore any transfer of this yer proputly is made. I hev to make restitution of certain papers ez hez fallen casooally into my hands. This yer paper," he added, drawing a soiled yellow envelope from his pockc:, " kem to me a week ago, the same hevin' lied in the Express Office sens the trial. It belongs to Gracey, I reckon, and I hands it to her." Grace tore open the envcKjpe, glanced at its contents hur- riedly, uttered a slight cry of astonishment, blushed, and put the i)aper into her pocket. " This yer paper," continued (labriel, gravely, drawing an- other from his blouse," *'was found by ine in the Kmpire 'I'unnel the night I was runnin' from the lyn( hers. It likewise b'longs to Gracey —and the world gin'rally. It's the record of Dr. Devarges' fust discovery of the silver lead on this yer hill, and," continued Gabriel, with infinite gravitv, "wipes out, so to spenk, this yer mineral right o' me and Mr. Dumphyand the stockholders gin'rally." It was Mr. Poinsett's turn to take the paper from Gabriel's hands. He examined it attentively by the fading light. " 'I hat is .so," he said, earnestly ; " it is quite legal and valid." •'And thar ez one paper more," conlii.ued Gabriel, this time plitting his hand in his bosom and drawing out a buckskin j)urse, from which he extracted a many-folded paper. " It's the grant that Dr. Devarges gave Gracey, thet thet i)ore Mcxi( an Ramirez ez — maybe ye may remember was killed — handed to my wife, and July, my wife" — said Gabriel, with a l)rodigious blu.-h — "hez been sorter keepin' in trusi" foi (iracey." He gave the pai)er to Arthur, who received it, but still re- i.iined a warm grasji of Gabriel's massive hand. *' And now," added (xabriel, " et's gettin' late, and I reckon el's about the square thing ef we'd ad-joL.n this yer meeting to the hotel, and ez you're goin' away, maybe ye'd make a partin' visit with yer wife, forgettin' and forgivin' like, to Mrs. Conroy and the baby — a pore little thing — that ye wouldn't believe it, Mr. Poinsett, looks like me !' But Oily and (irace had drawn aside, and were in the mids> of an animated conversation. And Grace was saying — .*«5 Tin; KKTURN OF A FOOIl'RINT. 421 " So [ look the stone from the fire, just as I take this " (she oicked up a fragment of the crumbling ( himney before her) ; "it looked black and burnt just like this; and 1 rubbed it hard on the blanket so, and it shone, just like silver, and Dr. Devarges said " "We are going, (Jrace," interiU])ted her hus])and, " we are going to see (ial)riers wife." (Irace hesitated a moment, but as her husband took h^r arm he slightly pressed it with a certain matrimonial caution, whereupon with a quick imi)ulsive gesture, (Jrace held out her hand to Oily, and the three gaily followed the bowed figure of Gabriel, as he strode through the darkening woods. CHAPTER LV. THE RETURN OF A FOOIPRINT. 3Ut Still re- d I reckon I REGRET that no detailed account of the reconciliatory visit to Mrs. Conroy has been handed down, and I only gather a hint of it from after comments of the actors themselves. When the last words of parting had been said, and (Jrace and Arthur had taken their seats in the Wingdam coach, (jabriel bent over his wife's bedside. " It kinder seemed ez ef you and Mr. Poinsett recognised each other at first, July," said Gabriel. "I ha^e seen him before— not here I I don't think he'll ever troulil • us much, (Jabriel," said Mrs. Conroy, with a cer- tain triumphant lighting of the cold fires of her grey eyes. "But look at the bain He's Iraighing ! He knows you, I declare !" And in Gabriel's rai)t astonishment at this un|)rcce- dented display of intelligence in one so young, the sul)ject was dropped. " Why, where did you ever see Mrs. Conroy before?"' asked (Jrace of her husband, when they had reached NVingdam that night. '* I never saw Mrs, Conroy before," retumeti Arthur, with ■,:■! , i - f ,j' ^'^ .',-1 <.-3 ^. . ' ' ■•) i\ 122 GABRIEL CONKOY. legal precision. " I met a lady in St. Louis years ago under another name, who, I dare say, is now your brother's wife. But — I think, Grace — the less we see of her — the better." ''Why?" " By the way, darling, what was that i)ai)er that Gabriel gave you ?" asked Arthur, lightly, avoiding the previous question. Grace drew the paper from her pocket, blushed slightly, kissed her husband, and then putting her arms around his neck, laid her face in his breast, while he read aloud, in Span- ish, the following : — "This is to give trustworthy statement that on the i8th of May, 1848, a young girl, calling herself Grace (lonroy, sought shelter and aid at the Presidio of San Geronimo. Being friendless — but of the B. V. M. and the Saints — I adopted her as my daughter, with the name of Dolores Salvalicrra, Six months after her arrival, on the 12th November, 1848, she was delivered of a dead child, the son of her affianced husband, one Philip Ashley. Wishing to keep her secret from the world and to prevent recognition by the members of her own race and family, by the assistance and advice of an Indian pft>n, Manuela, she consented that her face and hands should be daily washed by the juice of the Yokoto — whose effect is to change the skin to the color of bronze. With this metamorphosis she be- came known, by my advice and consent, as the daughter of the Indian Princess Nicata and myself. And as such I have recognized in due form, her legal right in the apportionment of my estate. *' Given at the Presidio of San Geronimo, this 1st day of December, 1848. << Juan Hermenizildo Salvatierra." " But how did Gabriel get this ?" asked Arthur. " I — don't — know ! '' said Grace. "To whom did you give it?" " To— Padre Felipe." " Oh, I see ! " said Arthur. " Then you are Mr. Dumphy's long-lost wife?" " I don't know what Father Felipe did," said Grace, tossing her head slightly. " I put the matter in his hands." "The whole story?" " I said nothing about you — you great goose !" Arthur kissed her by way of acknowledging the justice of the epithet. " But I ought to have told Mrs. Sepulvida the whole story ■• .\ fka(;ment ok a leitkr. 42H when she said you proposed to her. You're sure you didn't?" continued Grace, looking into her husband's eyes. " Never !" said that admirable young man, promptly. CHAPTER LVl. FRAGMENT OF A LETTER FROM OLYMPIA CONROY TO GRACE POINSETT. the baby is doing well. And only think — Gabe has struck it again ! And you was the cause, dear — and he says it all belongs to you — like the old mule that he is. Don't you remember when you was telling me about Doctor Divergers giving you that rock and how you rubed it untill the silver shone, well, you look up a rock from our old chimbly and rubed it, while you was telling it. And thet rock Gabe came across next morning, all shining- where you had rubed it. And shure enuff it was solid silver. And then Gabe says, says he, * We've struck it agin, fur the chimbly rock was taken from the first hole I dug on the hill only a hundred feet from here.' And shure enuff, yesterday he purspected the hole and found the leed agin. And we are all very ritch agin and comin' to see you next yeer, only that Gabe is such a fool ! Your loving Sister, "Olympja Conrov," THE END,