AL 
 
 owi 
 
 B 
 
 T HA tT t; 
 
o 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 ETC. 
 
BRET HARTE'S WORKS. 
 
 LIBRARY EDITION. In Seven Volumes, crown 8vo. cloth extra, 6s. each. 
 BRET HARTE'S COLLECTED WORKS. Arranged and Revised 
 
 by the Author. 
 
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 COLONEL STARBOTTLE'S CLIENT, AND SOME OTHER 
 
 PEOPLE. With a Frontispiece by FRED. BARNARD. 
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 SALLY DOWS, &c. With 47 Illustrations by W. D. ALMOND, &c. 
 
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 THE TWINS OF TABLE MOUNTAIN. 
 JEFF BRIGGS'S LOVE STORY. 
 SNOW-BOUND AT EAGLE'S. 
 
 London : CHATTO & WINDUS, 214 Piccadilly. 
 
' Connie Court land,' with an explanatory wave of the hammer 
 towards her companion 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 ETC. 
 
 BRET 
 
 tftf 
 
 J *"+ 
 
 With 47 ILLUSTRATIONS ly W. D. ALMOND, G. HUTCH INSON 
 G. P. JACOMB HOOD and A. MORROW 
 
 5 o n b o n 
 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 1893 
 
PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 LONDON 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SALLY Dows i 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER . 144 
 
 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP . . .217 
 
 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA . .. . 252 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ' CO'NNLE COURTLAND,' WITH AN EXPLANATORY WAVE OF 
 
 THE HAMMER TOWARDS HER COMPANION . Frontispiece 
 
 THE OFFICER PICKED IT UP WITH A STRANGE FEELING . 6 
 
 THE ARGUMENT IN THE TRAIN . . . 15 
 
 'GLAD TO SEE YO 5 , CUN'NEL ' . . . 1 8 
 
 AUNT MARTHA . . . . 21 
 SHE RECEIVED IT WITH A STILL GREATER ACCESS OF 
 
 DIGNITY . . ,. ... . . 3 1 
 
 TYING THE STRINGS OF A LONG STRIPED COTTON BLOUSE 36 
 
 SHE REMOVED HER LITTLE SLIPPER FROM HER FOOT . 50 
 
 FIXED HER BRIGHT GREY EYES ON HIS SERIOUS FACE . 55 
 ' YO' MEAN TO SAY THERE'S NOTHING BETWEEN YO' AND 
 
 SALLY DOWS ? ' ... . . . . 63 
 
 'AND THIS WREATH, IS IT FROM YOU? 3 CONTINUED 
 
 COURTLAND GENTLY . . . x 76 
 
 HE FELT THE SOFT TOUCH OF HER SMALL HANDS ON HIS 
 
 SHOULDERS . . ' , . ... . . 86 
 
 'YOU'RE A GOOD FELLOW, CHAMPNEY,' SAID COURTLAND 95 
 
 THERE WAS THE DISTINCT HOLE MADE BY A BULLET . 103 
 
 'NO! NO!' SCREAMED THE TERRIFIED MAN . . 1 16 
 SOPHY, MISS DOWS'S HOUSEKEEPER, SEATED NEAR HIS 
 
 BED-HEAD, WAS LAZILY FANNING HIM - ' . .124 
 'IF YOU'LL TAKE MY UNPROFESSIONAL ADVICE, COLONEL 
 
 COURTLAND, YOU'LL LET THIS MATTER SIMMER DOWN' 131 
 SHE STOPPED HESITATED A SINGULAR WEAKNESS FOR SO 
 
 SELF-CONTAINED A NATURE . -. . . .140 
 
x SALLY DOWS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SHE FOUND TIME TO INDULGE HER FANCY . ' . ' . 146 
 SHE GLANCED TOWARDS THE SEA . . .148 
 
 BRUSHING HIS DUSTY CLOTHES . . t . 149 
 
 THERE WAS SOMETHING VAGUELY HISTORICAL IN HIS 
 
 ATTITUDE . . .- . . . . 153 
 
 'YOU'D BETTER PUT THEM ON ' . . * '"... 158 
 
 'HONOUR ME BY KEEPING THIS RING 3 . / . . l6l 
 
 ' THERE'S BEEN AWFUL TIMES OVER IN 'FRISCO' . . 163 
 SHE SAW IT ALL NOW THAT GLORIOUS VISION . .165 
 
 THEIR FIRST QUARREL . . . . . 167 
 
 HE CONSULTED 'CAP 3 SIMMONS . . . . IJl 
 
 SLIPPED A LETTER INTO HER HAND . . .' . IJ2 
 
 'THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY,' SHE SAID . . . iSo 
 
 MEN HAD GATHERED IN KNOTS . . . 1 94 
 
 THAT GREY SEA, ETERNALLY WAITING FOR HER . .196 
 AGAINST THE COMING GALE . . . . 197 
 
 ARRAYED HERSELF IN HER HUSBAND'S PILOT COAT . 2O2 
 STRUCK DOWN MRS. BUNKER . . . . 204 
 
 HER HEAD PILLOWED ON THE SHIRT-SLEEVE OF AN 
 ARTILLERY CORPORAL ..... 206 
 
 HER SINCERITY AND PASSION WERE EQUALLY UNMIS- 
 TAKABLE . . . . . . 2O8 
 
 THE GENERAL'S BROW RELAXED . . . .210 
 
 THREW HERSELF UPON HER HUSBAND'S BREAST . . 212 
 "'GAZING INTER THEM TWO TRUTHFUL EYES' . . 213 
 THE FLAG FLEW REGULARLY OVER THE ROCKY SHELF . 2l6 
 'SHE CAN BE GILT-EDGED WHEN SHE WANTS TO ' . .221 
 
 ' " MIRA CABALLEROS ! " 'ERE WE ARE AGAIN, BOYS ! ' . . 228 
 MISS MENDEZ . . . . .231 
 
 SAUNDERS LOOKED AT THEM WITH A SINGULAR SMILE . 242 
 A GROUP HAD ALREADY" DRAWN ROUND THE FIRE .261 
 UNCLE SYLVESTER TOOK THE PIPE FROM HIS MOUTH . 290 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 THE LAST GUN AT SNAKE RIVER 
 
 WHAT had been in the cool grey of that summer 
 morning a dewy country lane, marked only by a 
 few waggon tracks that never encroached upon its 
 grassy border, and indented only by the faint 
 footprints of a crossing fox or coon, was now, 
 before high noon, already crushed, beaten down, 
 and trampled out of all semblance of its former 
 graciousness. The heavy springless jolt of gun- 
 carriage and caisson had cut deeply through the 
 middle track ; the hoofs of crowding cavalry had 
 struck down and shredded the wayside vines and 
 bushes to bury them under a cloud of following 
 dust, and the short, plunging double-quick of 
 infantry had trodden out this hideous ruin into 
 one dusty level chaos. Along that rudely widened 
 
2 SALLY DOWS 
 
 highway useless muskets, torn accoutrements, 
 knapsacks, caps and articles of clothing were 
 scattered, with here and there the larger wrecks 
 of broken-down waggons, roughly thrown aside 
 into the ditch to make way for the living current. 
 For two hours the greater part of an Army Corps 
 had passed and repassed that way, but, coming or 
 going, always with faces turned eagerly towards 
 an open slope on the right which ran parallel to 
 the lane. And yet nothing was to be seen there. 
 For two hours a grey and bluish cloud, rent and 
 shaken with explosion after explosion, but always 
 closing and thickening after each discharge, was 
 all that had met their eyes. Nevertheless, into 
 this ominous cloud solid moving masses of men 
 in grey or blue had that morning melted away, or 
 emerged from it only as scattered fragments that 
 crept, crawled, ran or clung together in groups, to 
 be followed and overtaken in the rolling vapour. 
 
 But for the last half-hour the desolated track 
 had stretched empty and deserted. While there 
 was no cessation of the rattling, crackling, and 
 detonations on the fateful slope beyond, it had 
 still been silent. Once or twice it had been 
 crossed by timid, hurrying wings, and frightened 
 and hesitating little feet, or later by skulkers and 
 stragglers from the main column who were tempted 
 to enter it from the hedges and bushes where they 
 
SALLY DOWS 3 
 
 had been creeping and hiding. Suddenly a pro- 
 longed yell from the hidden slope beyond the 
 nearest sound that had yet been heard from that 
 ominous distance sent them to cover again. It 
 was followed by the furious galloping of horses in 
 the lane, and a handsome, red-capped officer, 
 accompanied by an orderly, dashed down the 
 track, wheeled, leaped the hedge, rode out on the 
 slope and halted. In another instant a cloud of 
 dust came whirling down the lane after him. 
 Out of it strained the heavy shoulders and tight- 
 ened chain-traces of six frantic horses dragging 
 the swaying gun that in this tempest of motion 
 alone seemed passive and helpless with an awful 
 foreknowledge of its power. As in obedience to 
 a signal from the officer they crashed through 
 the hedge after him, a sudden jolt threw an 
 artilleryman from the limber before the wheel. 
 A driver glanced back on the tense chain and 
 hesitated. * Go on ! ' yelled the prostrate man, 
 and the wheel went over him. Another and 
 another gun followed out of the dust cloud, 
 until the whole battery had deployed on the slope. 
 Before the drifting dust had fairly settled, the 
 falling back of the panting horses with their 
 drivers gave a momentary glimpse of the nearest 
 gun already in position and of the four erect 
 figures beside it. The yell that seemed to have 
 
 13 2 
 
4 SALLY DOWS 
 
 evoked this sudden apparition again sounded 
 nearer ; a blinding flash broke from the gun, 
 which was instantly hidden by the closing group 
 around it, and a deafening crash with the high 
 ringing of metal ran down the lane. A column 
 of white, woolly smoke arose as another flash 
 broke beside it. This was quickly followed by 
 another and another, with a response from the 
 gun first fired, until the whole slope shook and 
 thundered. And the smoke, no longer white and 
 woolly, but darkening and thickening as with un- 
 burnt grains of gunpowder, mingled into the one 
 ominous vapour, and driving along the lane hid 
 even the slope from view. 
 
 The yelling had ceased, but the grinding and 
 rattling heard through the detonation of cannon 
 came nearer still, and suddenly there was a shower 
 of leaves and twigs from the lower branches of 
 a chestnut treenear the broken hedge. As the 
 smoke thinned again a rising and falling medley 
 of flapping hats, tossing horses' heads and shining 
 steel appeared for an instant, advancing tumultu- 
 ously up the slope. But the apparition was as 
 instantly cloven by flame from the two nearest 
 guns, and went down in a gush of smoke and roar 
 of sound. So level was the delivery and so close 
 the impact that a space seemed suddenly cleared 
 between, in which the whirling of the shattered 
 
SALLY DOWS 5 
 
 remnants of the charging cavalry was distinctly 
 seen, and the shouts and oaths of the inextricably 
 struggling mass became plain and articulate. Then 
 a gunner serving the nearest piece suddenly 
 dropped his swab and seized a carbine, for out of 
 the whirling confusion before them a single rider 
 was seen galloping furiously towards the gun. 
 
 The red-capped young officer rode forward 
 and knocked up the gunner's weapon with his 
 sword. For in that rapid glance he had seen that 
 the rider's reins were hanging loosely on the neck 
 of his horse, who was still dashing forwards with 
 the frantic impetus of the charge, and that the 
 youthful figure of the rider wearing the stripes 
 of a lieutenant although still erect, exercised no 
 control over the animal. The face was boyish, 
 blonde and ghastly ; the eyes were set and glassy. 
 It seemed as if Death itself were charging the 
 gun. 
 
 Within a few feet of it the horse swerved 
 before a brandished rammer, and striking the 
 cheeks of the gun-carriage pitched his inanimate 
 rider across the gun. The hot blood of the dead 
 man smoked on the hotter brass with the reek of 
 the shambles, and bespattered the hand of the 
 gunner who still mechanically served the vent. 
 As they lifted the dead body down the order came 
 to ' cease firing.' For the yells from below had 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 ceased too ; the rattling and grinding was reced- 
 ing with the smoke further to the left. The 
 ominous central cloud parted for a brief moment 
 and showed the unexpected sun glittering down 
 the slope upon a near and peaceful river. 
 
 THE OFFICER PICKED IT UP WITH A STRANGE FEELING 
 
 The young artillery officer had dismounted 
 and was now gently examining the dead man. 
 His breast had been crushed by a fragment of 
 shell ; he must have died instantly. The same 
 missile had cut the chain of a locket which slipped 
 from his opened coat. The officer picked it up 
 
SALLY DOWS 7 
 
 with a strange feeling perhaps because he was 
 conscious himself of wearing a similar one ; perhaps 
 because it might give him some clue to the man's 
 identity. It contained only the photograph of a 
 pretty girl, a tendril of fair hair, and the word 
 ' Sally.' In the breast-pocket was a sealed letter 
 with the inscription, ' For Miss Sally Dows. To 
 be delivered if I fall by the mudsill's hand.' A 
 faint smile came over the officer's face ; he was 
 about to hand the articles to a sergeant, but 
 changed his mind and put them in his pocket. 
 
 Meantime the lane and woods beyond, and 
 even the slope itself, were crowding with supports 
 and waiting troops. His own battery was still 
 unlimbered, waiting orders. There was a slight 
 commotion in the lane. 
 
 1 Very well done, captain. Smartly taken and 
 gallantly held.' 
 
 It was the voice of a general officer passing 
 with his staff. There was a note of pleasant 
 relief in its tone, and the middle-aged, care-drawn 
 face of its owner was relaxed in a paternal smile. 
 The young captain flushed with pleasure. 
 
 'And you seem to have had close work too,' 
 added the general, pointing to the dead man. 
 
 The young officer hurriedly explained. The 
 general nodded, saluted, and passed on. But a 
 youthful aide airily lingered. 
 
8 SALLY DOWS 
 
 ' The old man's feeling good, Courtland,' he 
 said. * We've rolled 'em up all along the line. 
 It's all over now. In point of fact, I reckon you've 
 fired the last round in this particular fratricidal 
 engagement.' 
 
 The last round ! Courtland remained silent, 
 looking abstractedly at the man it had crushed 
 and broken at his feet. 
 
 ' And I shouldn't wonder if you got your gold- 
 leaf for to-day's work. But who's your sunny 
 Southern friend here ? ' he added, following his 
 companion's eyes. 
 
 Courtland repeated his story a little more 
 seriously, which however failed to subdue the young 
 aide s levity. ' So he concluded to stop over,' he 
 interrupted cheerfully. ' But,' looking at the letter 
 and photograph, 'I say look here! ''Sally Dows?" 
 Why, there was another man picked up yesterday 
 with a letter to the same girl ! Doc Murphy has 
 it. And, by Jove ! the same picture too ! eh ? I 
 say, Sally must have gathered in the boys, and 
 raked down the whole pile ! Look here, Courty ! 
 you might get Doc Murphy's letter and hunt her 
 up when this cruel war is over Say you're 
 " fulfilling a sacred trust ! " See ? Good idea, old 
 man ! Ta-ta ! ' and he trotted quickly after his 
 superior. 
 
 Courtland remained with the letter and 
 
SALLY DOWS 9 
 
 photograph in his hand, gazing abstractedly after 
 him. The smoke had rolled quite away from the 
 fields on the left, but still hung heavily down the 
 south on the heels of the flying cavalry. A long 
 bugle call swelled up musically from below. The 
 freed sun caught the white flags of two field hospitals 
 in the woods and glanced tranquilly on the broad, 
 cypress-fringed, lazy-flowing and cruel but beauti- 
 ful Southern river, which had all unseen crept so 
 smilingly that morning through the very heart of 
 the battle. 
 
ic SALLY DOWS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE two o'clock express from Redlands to 
 Forestville, Georgia, had been proceeding with 
 the languid placidity of the river whose banks- it 
 skirted for more than two hours. But, unlike the 
 river, it had stopped frequently ; sometimes at re- 
 cognised stations and villages, sometimes at the 
 apparition of straw-hatted and linen-coated natives 
 in the solitude of pine woods, where, after a decent 
 interval of cheery conversation with the conductor 
 and engineer, it either took the stranger on board, 
 or relieved him of his parcel, letter, basket, or even 
 the verbal message with which he was charged. 
 Much of the way lay through pine-barren and 
 swampy woods which had never been cleared 
 or cultivated; much through decayed settlements 
 and ruined villages that had remained unchanged 
 since the War of the Rebellion, now three years 
 past. There were vestiges of the severity of 
 a former military occupation ; the blackened 
 timbers of railway bridges still unrepaired ; and 
 along the line of a certain memorable march, 
 
SALLY DOWS 11 
 
 sections of iron rails taken from the torn-up track, 
 roasted in bonfires and bent while red-hot around 
 the trunks of trees, were still to be seen. These 
 mementoes of defeat seemed to excite neither 
 revenge nor the energy to remove them ; the dull 
 apathy which had succeeded the days of hysterical 
 passion and convulsion still lingered ; even the 
 slow improvement that could be detected was 
 marked by the languor of convalescence. The 
 helplessness of a race, hitherto dependent upon 
 certain barbaric conditions or political place and 
 power, unskilled in invention, and suddenly con- 
 fronted with the necessity of personal labour, was 
 visible everywhere. Eyes that but three short 
 years before had turned vindictively to the North, 
 now gazed wistfully to that quarter for help and 
 direction. They scanned eagerly the faces of 
 their energetic and prosperous neighbours and 
 quondam foes upon the verandahs of Southern 
 hotels and the decks of Southern steamboats, and 
 were even now watching from a group in the woods 
 the windows of the halted train, where the faces 
 appeared of two men of manifestly different types, 
 but still alien to the country in dress, features, and 
 accent. 
 
 Two negroes were slowly loading the engine 
 tender from a wood pile. The rich brown smoke 
 of the turpentine knots was rilling the train with 
 
12 SALLY DOWS 
 
 its stinging fragrance. The elder of the two 
 Northern passengers, with sharp New England 
 angles in his face, impatiently glanced at his 
 watch. 
 
 ' Of all created shiftlessness, this beats every- 
 thing ! Why couldn't we have taken in enough 
 wood to last the ten miles further to the terminus 
 when we last stopped ? And why in thunder, 
 with all this firing up, can't we go faster ? ' 
 
 The younger passenger, whose quiet, well- 
 bred face seemed to indicate more discipline of 
 character, smiled. 
 
 ' If you really wish to know and as we've 
 only ten miles further to go I'll show you why. 
 Come with me.' 
 
 He led the way through the car to the plat- 
 form and leaped down. Then he pointed signifi- 
 cantly to the rails below them. His companion 
 started. The metal was scaling off in thin strips 
 from the rails, and in some places its thickness 
 had been reduced a quarter of an inch, while in 
 others the projecting edges were torn off, or hang- 
 ing in iron shreds, so that the wheels actually ran 
 on the narrow central strip. It seemed marvellous 
 that the train could keep the track. 
 
 ' Now you know why we don't go more than 
 five miles an hour, and are thankful that we 
 don't,' said the young traveller quietly. 
 
SALLY DOWS 13 
 
 ' But this is disgraceful ! criminal ! ' ejaculated 
 the other nervously. 
 
 ' Not at their rate of speed,' returned the 
 younger man. 4 The crime would be in going 
 faster. And now you can understand why a good 
 deal of the other progress in this State is obliged 
 to go as slowly over their equally decaying and 
 rotten foundations. You can't rush things here as 
 we do in the North.' 
 
 The other passenger shrugged his shoulders 
 as they remounted the platform, and the train 
 moved on. It was not the first time that the 
 two fellow-travellers had differed, although their 
 mission was a common one. The elder, Mr. Cyrus 
 Drummond, was the vice-president of a large 
 Northern land and mill company, which had bought 
 extensive tracts of land in Georgia, and the 
 younger, Colonel Courtland, was the consulting sur- 
 veyor and engineer for the company. Drummond's 
 opinions were a good deal affected by sectional pre- 
 judice, and a self-satisfied and righteous ignorance 
 of the actual conditions and limitations of the 
 people with whom he was to deal ; while the 
 younger man, who had served through the war 
 with distinction, retained a soldier's respect and 
 esteem for his late antagonists, with a con- 
 scientious and thoughtful observation of their 
 character. Although he had resigned from the 
 
i 4 SALLY DOWS 
 
 army, the fact that he had previously graduated 
 at West Point with high honours had given him 
 preferment in this technical appointment, and his 
 knowledge of the country and its people made 
 him a valuable counsellor. And it was a fact that 
 the country people had preferred this soldier 
 with whom they had once personally grappled to 
 the capitalist they had never known during the 
 struggle. 
 
 The train rolled slowly through the woods, so 
 slowly that the fragrant pine smoke from the 
 engine still hung round the windows of the cars. 
 Gradually the * clearings ' became larger ; they 
 saw the distant white wooden colonnades of some 
 planter's house, looking still opulent and preten- 
 tious, although the fence of its enclosure had 
 broken gaps, and the gate sagged on its single 
 hinge. 
 
 Mr. Drummond sniffed at this damning record 
 of neglect and indifference. * Even if they were 
 ruined, they might still have spent a few cents for 
 nails and slates to enable them to look decent 
 before folks, and not parade their poverty before 
 their neighbours,' he said. 
 
 ' But that's just where you misunderstand 
 them, Drummond,' said Courtland, smiling. ' They 
 have no reason to keep up an attitude towards 
 their neighbours, who still know them as " Squire " 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 THE ARGUMENT IN THE TRAIN 
 
 So-and-so, "Colonel" this and that, and the 
 "Judge," owners of their vast but crippled 
 
1 6 SALLY DOWS 
 
 estates. They are not ashamed of being poor, 
 which is an accident.' 
 
 ' But they are of working, which is delibera- 
 tion', interrupted Drummond. * They are ashamed 
 to mend their fences themselves, now that they 
 have no slaves to do it for them.' 
 
 ' I doubt very much if some of them know 
 how to drive a nail, for the matter of that,' said 
 Courtland, still good-humouredly, ' but that's the 
 fault of a system older than themselves, which the 
 founders of the Republic retained. We cannot 
 give them experience in their new condition in 
 one day, and in fact, Drummond, I am very much 
 afraid that for our purposes and I honestly believe 
 for their good we must help to keep them for the 
 present as they are.' 
 
 ' Perhaps,' said Drummond sarcastically, ' you 
 would like to reinstate slavery ? ' 
 
 ' No. But I should like to reinstate the 
 master. And not for his sake alone, but for free- 
 dom's sake and ours. To be plain : since I have 
 taken up this matter for the company, I have 
 satisfied myself from personal observation tha t 
 the negro even more than his master cannot 
 handle his new condition. He is accustomed to 
 his old traditional task-master, and I doubt if 
 he will work fairly for any other particularly for 
 those who don't understand him. Don't mistake 
 
SALLY DOWS 17 
 
 me : I don't propose to go back to the whip ; to 
 that brutal institution, the irresponsible overseer; 
 to the buying and selling, and separation of the 
 family, nor any of the old wrongs ; but I propose 
 to make the old master oiir overseer, and respon- 
 sible to us. He is not a fool, and has already 
 learned that it is more profitable to pay wages to 
 his old slaves and have the power of dismissal, 
 like any other employer, than be obliged, under the 
 old system of enforced labour and life servitude, 
 to undergo the cost of maintaining incompetence 
 and idleness. The old sentiment of slave-owning 
 has disappeared before natural common sense and 
 selfishness. I am satisfied that by some such pro- 
 cess as this utilising of the old master and the 
 new freedom we will be better able to cultivate 
 our lands than by buying up their estates, and set- 
 ting the old owners adrift, with a little money in 
 their pockets, as an idle, discontented class to re- 
 vive old political dogmas, and foment new issues, 
 or perhaps set up a dangerous opposition to us.' 
 
 ' You don't mean to say that those infernal 
 niggers would give the preference to their old 
 oppressors ? ' 
 
 ' Dollar for dollar in wages yes ! And why 
 shouldn't they ? Their old masters understand 
 them better and treat them generally better. 
 They know our interest in them is only an abstract 
 
1 8 
 
 SALLY DOWS 
 
 GLAD TO SEE YO', CUN'NEL 
 
SALLY DOWS 19 
 
 sentiment, not a real liking. We show it at every 
 turn. But we are nearing Redlands, and Major 
 Reed will, I have no doubt, corroborate my im- 
 pressions. He insists upon our staying at his 
 house, although the poor old fellow, I imagine, can 
 ill afford to entertain company. But he will be 
 offended if we refuse.' 
 
 'He is a friend of yours, then?' asked 
 Drummond. 
 
 ' I fought against his division at Stony Creek,' 
 said Courtland, grimly. ' He never tires of talk- 
 ing of it to me so I suppose I am.' 
 
 A few moments later the train glided beside 
 the Redlands platform. As the two travellers 
 descended a hand was laid on Courtland's shoulder, 
 and a stout figure in the blackest and shiniest of 
 alpaca jackets, and the whitest and broadest of 
 Panama hats, welcomed him. ' Glad to see yo', 
 cun'nel. I reckoned I'd waltz over and bring 
 along the boy,' pointing to a grizzled negro servant 
 of sixty who was bowing before them, ' to tote yo'r 
 things over instead of using a hack. I haven't 
 run much on horseflesh since the wah ha ! ha ! 
 What / didn't use up for remounts I reckon yo'r 
 commissary gobbled up with the other live stock, 
 eh ? ' He laughed heartily, as if the recollections 
 were purely humorous, and again clapped Courtland 
 on the back. 
 
 c 2 
 
20 SALLY DOWS 
 
 ' Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Drummond, 
 Major Reed,' said Courtland, smiling. 
 
 ' Yo' were in the wah, sir ? ' 
 
 ' No I ' returned Drummond hesitating, 
 
 he knew not why, and angry at his own em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 ' Mr. Drummond, the vice-president of the 
 company/ interposed Courtland cheerfully, ' was 
 engaged in furnishing to us the sinews of war.' 
 
 Major Reed bowed a little more formally. 
 ' Most of us heah, sir, were in the wah some time 
 or other, and if you gentlemen will honah me by 
 joining in a social glass at the hotel across the 
 way, I'll introduce you to Captain Prendergast, 
 who left a leg at Fair Oaks.' Drummond would 
 have, declined, but a significant pressure on his 
 arm from Courtland changed his determination. 
 He followed them to the hotel and into the 
 presence of the one-legged warrior (who turned 
 out to be the landlord and bar-keeper), to whom 
 Courtland was hilariously introduced by Major 
 Reed as ' the man, sir, who had pounded my 
 division for three hours at Stony Creek ! ' 
 
 Major Reed's house was but a few minutes' 
 walk down the dusty lane, and was presently 
 heralded by the baying of three or four fox- 
 hounds and foreshadowed by a dilapidated con- 
 dition of picket-fence and stuccoed gate front. 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 Beyond it stretched 
 the wooden Doric 
 columns of the 
 usual Southern man- 
 sion, dimly seen 
 through the broad 
 leaves of the horse 
 chestnut trees that 
 shaded it. There 
 were the usual list- 
 less black shadows 
 haunting the veran- 
 dah andouter offices 
 former slaves and 
 still attached house- 
 servants, arrested 
 like lizards in 
 breathless attitudes 
 at the approach of 
 strange footsteps, 
 and still holding 
 the brush, broom, 
 duster or home im- 
 plement they had 
 been lazily using, 
 in their fixed hands. 
 From the doorway 
 of the detached 
 
 AUNT MARTHA 
 
22 SALLY DOWS 
 
 kitchen, connected by a gallery to the wing of the 
 mansion, 'Aunt Martha,' the cook, gazed also, with 
 a saucepan clasped to her bosom, and her revolv- 
 ing hand with the scrubbing cloth in it apparently 
 stopped on a dead centre. 
 
 Drummond, whose gorge had risen at these 
 evidences of hopeless incapacity and utter shift- 
 lessness, was not relieved by the presence of Mrs. 
 Reed a soured, disappointed woman of forty, 
 who still carried in her small dark eyes and thin 
 handsome lips something of the bitterness and an- 
 tagonism of the typical ' Southern rights ' woman ; 
 nor of her two daughters, Octavia and Augusta, 
 whose languid atrabiliousness seemed a part of the 
 mourning they still wore. The optimistic gallantry 
 and good fellowship of the Major appeared the 
 more remarkable by contrast with his cypress- 
 shadowed family, and their venomous possibilities. 
 Perhaps there might have been a light vein of 
 Southern insincerity in his good humour. ' Paw,' 
 said Miss Octavia, with gloomy confidence to 
 Courtland, but with a pretty curl of the hereditary 
 lip, ' is about the only " reconstructed" one of the 
 entire family. We don't make" 'em much about 
 yer. But I'd advise yo' friend, Mr. Drummond, 
 if he's coming here carpet-begging, not to trust 
 too much to paw's " reconstruction." It won't 
 wash.' But when Courtland hastened to assure 
 
SALLY DOWS 23 
 
 her that Drummond was not a ' carpet-beggar/ 
 was not only free from any of the political in- 
 trigue implied under that baleful title, but was a 
 wealthy Northern capitalist simply seeking invest- 
 ment, the young lady was scarcely more hopeful. 
 ' I suppose he reckons to pay paw for those 
 niggers yo' stole ? ' she suggested with gloomy 
 sarcasm. 
 
 ' No', said Courtland, smiling ; ' but what if he 
 reckoned to pay those niggers for working for 
 your father and him ? ' 
 
 ' If paw is going into trading business with 
 him ; if Major Reed a So'th'n gentleman is 
 going to keep shop, he ain't such a fool as to 
 believe niggers will work when they ain't obliged 
 to. That 's been tried over at Mirandy Dows's, 
 not five miles from here, and the niggers are half 
 the time hangin' round here takin' holiday. She 
 put up new quarters for 'em, and tried to make 
 'em eat together at a long table like those low- 
 down folks up north, and did away with their 
 cabins and their melon patches, and allowed it 
 would get 'em out of lying round too much, and 
 wanted 'em to work over-time and get mo' pay. 
 And the result was that she and her niece, and a 
 lot of poor whites, Irish and Scotch, that she had 
 to pick up " long the river," do all the work. And 
 her niece Sally was mo' than half Union woman 
 
24 SALLY DOWS 
 
 during the wah, and up to all No'th'n tricks and 
 dodges, and swearin' by them ; and yet, for all 
 that the thing won't work.' 
 
 * But isn't that partly the reason ? Isn't her 
 failure a great deal due to this lack of sympathy 
 from her neighbours ? Discontent is easily sown, 
 and the negro is still weighted down by super- 
 stition ; the Fifteenth Amendment did not quite 
 knock off all his chains.' 
 
 ' Yes, but that is nothing to her. For if there 
 ever was a person in this world who reckoned 
 she was just born to manage everything and 
 everybody, it is Sally Dows ! ' 
 
 ' Sally Dows ! ' repeated Courtland, with a 
 slight start. 
 
 ' Yes, Sally Dows, of Pineville.' 
 
 ' You say she was half Union, but did she 
 have any relations or or friends in the war 
 on your side ? Any who were killed in 
 battle?' 
 
 ' They were all killed, I reckon,' returned 
 Miss Reed, darkly. 'There was her cousin, Jule 
 Jeffcourt, shot in the cemetery with her beau, 
 who, they say, was Sally's too ; there were Chet 
 Brooks and Joyce Masterton, who were both 
 gone on her and both killed too ; and there was 
 old Captain Dows himself, who never lifted his 
 head again after Richmond was taken, and drank 
 
SALLY DOWS 25 
 
 himself to death. It wasn't considered healthy to 
 be Miss Sally's relations in those times, or to be 
 even wantin' to be one.' 
 
 Colonel Courtland did not reply. The face 
 of the dead young officer coming towards him out 
 of the blue smoke rose as vividly as on that 
 memorable day. The picture and letter he had 
 taken from the dead man's breast, which he had 
 retained ever since ; the romantic and fruitless 
 quest he had made for the fair original in after 
 days ; and the strange and fateful interest in her 
 which had grown up in his heart since then, he 
 now knew had only been lulled to sleep in the 
 busy pre-oc,cupation of the last six months* for it 
 all came back to him with redoubled force. His 
 present mission and its practical object, his honest 
 zeal in its pursuit, and the cautious skill and ex- 
 perience he had brought to it, all seemed to be 
 suddenly displaced by this romantic and unreal 
 fantasy. Oddly enough it appeared now to be 
 the only reality in his life, the rest was an inco- 
 herent, purposeless dream. 
 
 'Is is Miss Sally married?' he asked, 
 collecting himself with an effort. 
 
 1 Married ? Yes, to that farm of her aunt's ! 
 I reckon that's the only thing she cares for.' 
 
 Courtland looked up, recovering his usual 
 cheerful calm. ' Well, I think that after luncheon 
 
26 SALLY DOWS 
 
 I'll pay my respects to her family. From what 
 you have just told me the farm is certainly an 
 experiment worth seeing. I suppose your father 
 will have no objection to give me a letter to Miss 
 Dows ?' 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 NEVERTHELESS, as Colonel Courtland rode de- 
 liberately towards Dows' Folly as the new 
 experiment was locally called although he had 
 not abated his romantic enthusiasm in the least, 
 he was not sorry that he was able to visit it under 
 a practical pretext. It was rather late now to 
 seek out Miss Sally Dows with the avowed intent 
 of bringing her a letter from an admirer who had 
 been dead three years, and whose memory she 
 had probably buried. Neither was it tactful to 
 recall a sentiment which might have been a 
 weakness of which she was ashamed. Yet, clear- 
 headed and logical as Courtland was in his 
 ordinary affairs, he was nevertheless not entirely 
 free from that peculiar superstition which sur- 
 rounds every man's romance. He believed there 
 was something more than a mere coincidence 
 in his unexpectedly finding himself in such 
 favourable conditions for making her acquaintance. 
 
SALLY DOWS 27 
 
 For the rest if there was any rest he would 
 simply trust to fate. And so, believing himself a 
 cool, sagacious reasoner, but being actually, as far 
 as Miss Dows was concerned, as blind, fatuous 
 and unreasoning as any of her previous admirers, 
 he rode complacently forward until he reached 
 the lane that led to the Dows' plantation. 
 
 Here a better-kept roadway and fence, whose 
 careful repair would have delighted Drummond, 
 seemed to augur well for the new enterprise. 
 Presently, even the old-fashioned local form of 
 the fence, a slanting zigzag, gave way to the 
 more direct line of post and rail in the Northern 
 fashion. Beyond it presently appeared a long 
 low frontage of modern buildings which, to Court- 
 land's surprise, were entirely new in structure and 
 design. There was no reminiscence of the usual 
 Southern porticoed gable or columned verandah. 
 Yet it was not Northern either. The factory-like 
 outline of facade was partly hidden in Cherokee 
 rose and jessamine. 
 
 A long roofed gallery connected the buildings 
 and became a verandah to one. A broad, well 
 rolled gravel drive led from the open gate to the 
 newest building, which seemed to be the office; a 
 smaller path diverged from it to the corner house, 
 which, despite its severe simplicity, had a more 
 residential appearance. Unlike Reed's house 
 
28 SALLY DOWS 
 
 there were no lounging servants or field hands to 
 be seen ; they were evidently attending to their 
 respective duties. Dismounting, Courtland tied 
 his horse to a post at the office door and took the 
 smaller path to the corner house. 
 
 The door was open to the fragrant afternoon 
 breeze wafted through the rose and jessamine. 
 So also was a side door opening from the hall 
 into a long parlour or sitting room that ran the 
 whole width of the house. Courtland entered it. 
 It was prettily furnished, but everything had the 
 air of freshness and of being uncharacteristically 
 new. It was empty, but a faint hammering was 
 audible on the rear wall of the house, through the 
 two open French windows at the back, curtained 
 with trailing vines, which gave upon a sunlit 
 courtyard. Courtland walked to the window. 
 Just before it, on the ground, stood a small light 
 ladder, which he gently put aside to gain a better 
 view of the courtyard as he put on his hat, and 
 stepped out of the open window. 
 
 In this attitude he suddenly felt his hat tipped 
 from his head, followed almost instantaneously by 
 a falling slipper, and the distinct impression of a 
 very small foot on the crown qf his head. An 
 indescribable sensation passed over him. He 
 hurriedly stepped back into the room, just as a 
 small striped-stockinged foot was as hastily drawn 
 
SALLY DOWS 29 
 
 up above the top of the window with the feminine 
 exclamation, ' Good gracious me ! ' 
 
 Lingering for an instant, only to assure himself 
 that the fair speaker had secured her foothold and 
 was in no danger of falling, Courtland snatched up 
 his hat, which had providentially fallen inside the 
 room, and retreated ingloriously to the other end 
 of the parlour. The voice came again from the 
 window, and struck him as being very sweet and 
 clear : 
 
 ' Sophy, is that you ? ' 
 
 Courtland discreetly retired to the hall. To his 
 great relief a voice from the outside answered : 
 4 Whar, Miss Sally?' 
 
 ' What did you move the ladder for ? Yo' 
 might have killed me.'. 
 
 * Fo' God, Miss Sally, I didn't move no 
 ladder ! ' 
 
 ' Don't tell me, but go down and get my slipper. 
 And bring up some more nails.' 
 
 Courtland waited silently in the hall. In a 
 few moments he heard a heavy footstep outside 
 the rear window. This was his opportunity. 
 Re-entering the parlour somewhat ostentatiously, 
 he confronted a tall negro girl who was passing 
 through the room carrying a tiny slipper in her 
 hand. ' Excuse me,' he said politely, * but I could 
 not find anyone to announce me. Is Miss Dows 
 at home ? ' 
 
3 o SALLY DOWS 
 
 The girl instantly whipped the slipper behind 
 her. ' Is yo' wanting Miss Mirandy Dows,' she 
 asked with great dignity, ' oah Miss Sally Dows 
 her niece ? Miss Mirandy's bin gone to Atalanta 
 for a week.' 
 
 ' I have a letter for Miss Miranda, but I shall 
 be very glad if Miss Sally Dows will receive me,' 
 returned Courtland, handing the letter and his 
 card to the girl. 
 
 She received it with a still greater access -of 
 dignity and marked deliberation. ' It's clean gone 
 outer my mind, sah, ef Miss Sally is in de re- 
 sumption of visitahs at dis houah. In fac', sah,' 
 she continued, with intensified gravity and an ex- 
 aggeration of thoughtful ness as the sounds of 
 Miss Sally's hammering came shamelessly from 
 the wall, ' I doahn know exac'ly ef she's engaged 
 playin' de harp, practisin' de languages, or paint- 
 in' in oil and watah colours, o' givin' audiences to 
 offishals from de Court House. It might be de 
 houah for de one or de odder. But I'll com- 
 municate wid her, sah, in the budwoh on de uppah 
 floY She backed dexterously, so as to keep the 
 slipper behind her, but with no diminution of 
 dignity, out of a side door. In another moment 
 the hammering ceased, followed by the sound of 
 rapid whispering without ; a few tiny twigs and 
 leaves slowly rustled to the ground, and then 
 
SALLY DOIVS 
 
 there was complete silence. He ventured to 
 walk to the fateful window again. 
 
 SHE RECEIVED IT WITH A STILL GREATER ACCESS OF DIGNITY 
 
 Presently he heard a faint rustle at the other 
 end of the room, and he turned. A sudden 
 
32 SALLY DOWS 
 
 tremulousness swept along his pulses, and then 
 they seemed to pause ; he drew a deep breath that 
 was almost a sigh, and remained motionless. 
 
 He had no preconceived idea of falling 
 in love with Miss Sally at first sight, nor had 
 he dreamed such a thing possible. Even the 
 girlish face that he had seen in the locket, 
 although it had stirred him with a singular 
 emotion, had not suggested that. And the ideal 
 he had evolved from it was never a potent 
 presence. But the exquisitely pretty face and 
 figure before him, although it might have been 
 painted from his own fancy of her, was still some- 
 thing more and something unexpected. All that 
 had gone before had never prepared him for the 
 beautiful girl who now stood there. It was a poor 
 explanation to say that Miss Sally was four or five 
 years older than her picture, and that later 
 experiences, enlarged capacity, a different life, 
 and new ambition had impressed her youthful 
 face with a refined mobility ; it was a weird fancy 
 to imagine that the blood of those who had died 
 for her had in some vague, mysterious way im- 
 parted an actual fascination to her, and he dis- 
 missed it. But even the most familiar spectator, 
 like Sophy, could see that Miss Sally had the 
 softest pink complexion, the silkiest hair, that 
 looked as the floss of the Indian corn might 
 
SALLY DOWS 33 
 
 look if curled, or golden spider threads if 
 materialised, and eyes that were in bright grey 
 harmony with both ; that the frock of India 
 muslin, albeit home made, fitted her figure per- 
 fectly from the azure bows on her shoulders to 
 the ribbon around her waist and that the hem 
 of its billowy skirt showed a foot which had the 
 reputation of being the smallest foot south of 
 Mason and Dixon's Line ! 1 But it was some- 
 thing more intangible than this which kept Court- 
 land breathless and silent. 
 
 * I'm not Miss Miranda Dows,' said the vision 
 with a frankness that was half childlike and half 
 practical, as she extended a little hand, ' but I can 
 talk " fahm "with yo' about as well as aunty, and I 
 reckon from what Major Reed says heah,' holding 
 up the letter between her fingers, ' as long as yo' 
 get the persimmons yo' don't mind what kind o' 
 pole yo' knock 'em down with.' 
 
 The voice that carried this speech was so fresh, 
 clear and sweet that I am afraid Courtland thought 
 little of its bluntness or its conventional trans- 
 gressions. But it brought him his own tongue 
 quite unemotionally and quietly. ' I don't know 
 what was in that note, Miss Dows, but I can 
 
 1 The old boundary line between the free State of Pennsylvania 
 and the Slave States of Maryland and Virginia run by two 
 English surveyors in 1763 and 1767, afterwards a theme and 
 catchword of political controversy. 
 
 D 
 
34 SALLY DOWS 
 
 hardly believe that Major Reed ever put my 
 present felicity quite in that way.' 
 
 Miss Sally laughed. Then with a charming 
 exaggeration she waved her little hand towards 
 the sofa. 
 
 ' There ! Yo' naturally wanted a little room 
 for that, co'nnle, but now that yo've got it off 
 and mighty pooty it was too yo' can sit down. 
 And with that she sank down at one end of the 
 sofa, prettily drew aside a white billow of skirt so 
 as to leave ample room for Courtland at the other, 
 and clasping her fingers over her knees, looked 
 demurely expectant. 
 
 * But let me hope that I am not disturbing 
 you unseasonably,' said Courtland, catching sight 
 of the fateful little slipper beneath her skirt, and 
 remembering the window. ' I was so preoccupied 
 in thinking of your aunt as the business manager 
 of these estates that I quite forgot that she might 
 have a lady's hours for receiving.' 
 
 'We haven't got any company hours,' said 
 Miss Sally, ' and we haven't just now any servants 
 for company manners, for we're short-handed in 
 the fields and barns. When yo' came I was 
 nailing up the laths for the vines outside because 
 we couldn't spare carpenters from the factory. 
 But,' she added, with a faint accession of mischief 
 in her voice, * yo' came to talk about the fahm ? ' 
 
SALLY DOWS 35 
 
 ' Yes,' said Courtland rising, ' but not to inter- 
 rupt the work on it. Will you let me help you 
 nail up the laths on the wall ? I have some 
 experience that way, and we can talk as we work. 
 Do oblige me ! ' 
 
 The young girl looked at him brightly. 
 
 ' Well, now, there's nothing mean about that. 
 Yo' mean it for sure ? ' 
 
 ' Perfectly. I shall feel so much less as if I 
 was enjoying your company under false pretences.' 
 
 * Yo' just wait here, then.' 
 
 She jumped from the sofa, ran out of the 
 room, and returned presently, tying the strings of 
 a long striped cotton blouse evidently an extra 
 one of Sophy's behind her back as she re- 
 turned. It was gathered under her oval chin by 
 a tape also tied behind her, while her fair hair 
 was tucked under the usual red bandana hand- 
 kerchief of the negro housemaid. It is scarcely 
 necessary to add that the effect was bewitching. 
 
 ' But,' said Miss Sally, eyeing her guest's 
 smartly-fitting frock-coat, ' yo'll spoil yo'r pooty 
 clothes, sure ! Take off yo'r coat don't mind 
 me and work in yo'r shirt sleeves.' 
 
 Courtland obediently flung aside his coat and 
 followed his active hostess through the French 
 window to the platform outside. Above them a 
 wooden ledge or cornice, projecting several inches, 
 
 JD 2 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 ran the whole length of the building. It was on 
 this that Miss Sally had evidently found a foot- 
 
 TYING THE STRINGS OF A LONG STRIPED COTTON BLOUSE 
 
 hold while she was nailing up a trellis work of 
 laths between it and the windows of the second 
 floor. Courtland found the ladder, mounted to 
 
SALLY DOWS 37 
 
 the ledge, followed by the young girl, who 
 smilingly waived his proffered hand to help her 
 up, and the two gravely set to work. But in 
 the intervals of hammering and tying up the vines 
 Miss Sally's tongue was not idle. Her talk was 
 as fresh, as quaint, as original as herself, and yet 
 so practical and to the purpose of Courtland's 
 visit, as to excuse his delight in it and her own 
 fascinating propinquity. Whether she stopped to 
 take a nail from between her pretty lips when 
 she spoke to him, or whether holding on perilously 
 with one hand to the trellis while she gesticulated 
 with the hammer, pointing out the divisions of 
 the plantation from her coign of vantage, he 
 thought she was as clear and convincing to his 
 intellect as she was distracting to his senses. 
 
 She told him how the war had broken up their 
 old home in Pineville, sending her father to serve 
 in the Confederate councils of Richmond, and leav- 
 ing her aunt and herself to manage the property 
 alone ; how the estate had been devastated, the 
 house destroyed, and how they had barely time 
 to remove a few valuables ; how, although she had 
 always been opposed to secession, and the war, 
 she had not gone north, preferring to stay with 
 her people, and take with them the punishment 
 of the folly she had foreseen. How after the war 
 and her father's death, she and her aunt had 
 
38 SALLY DOWS 
 
 determined to ' reconstruct themselves ' after their 
 own fashion on this bit of property, which had 
 survived their fortunes because it had always 
 been considered valueless and unprofitable for 
 negro labour. How at first they had undergone 
 serious difficulty, through the incompetence and 
 ignorance of the freed labourer, and the equal 
 apathy and prejudice of their neighbours. How 
 they had gradually succeeded with the adoption of 
 new methods and ideas, that she herself had con- 
 ceived, which she now briefly and clearly stated. 
 Courtland listened with a new, breathless, and 
 almost superstitious interest : they were his own 
 theories perfected and demonstrated ! 
 
 1 But you must have had capital for this ? ' 
 ' Ah, yes ! that was where they were fortunate. 
 There were some French cousins with whom she 
 had once stayed in Paris, who advanced enough 
 to stock the estate. There were some English 
 friends of her father's, old blockade runners 
 who had taken shares, provided them with more 
 capital and imported some skilled labourers, and 
 a kind of steward or agent to represent them. 
 But they were getting on, and perhaps it was 
 better for their reputation with their neighbours 
 that they had not been beholden to the " No'th." 
 Seeing a cloud pass over Courtland's face, the 
 young lady added with an affected sigh, and the 
 
SALLY DOWS 39 
 
 first touch of feminine coquetry which had invaded 
 their wholesome camaraderie : 
 
 1 Yo' ought to have found us out before, 
 co'nnle.' 
 
 For an impulsive moment, Courtland felt like 
 telling her then and there the story of his romantic 
 quest ; but the reflection that they were standing 
 on a narrow ledge with no room for the emotions, 
 and that Miss Sally had just put a nail in her 
 mouth and a start might be dangerous, checked 
 him. To this may be added a new jealousy of 
 her previous experiences, which he had not felt 
 before. Nevertheless he managed to say with some 
 effusion : 
 
 ' But I hope we are not too late now. I think 
 my principals are quite ready and able to buy up 
 any English or French investor now or to come.' 
 
 ' Yo' might try yo' hand on that one,' said 
 Miss Sally, pointing to a young fellow who had 
 just emerged from the office and was crossing the 
 courtyard. ' He's the English agent.' 
 
 He was square shouldered and round headed, 
 fresh and clean looking in his white flannels, but 
 with an air of being utterly distinct and alien to 
 everything around him, and mentally and morally 
 irreconcilable to it. As he passed the house he 
 glanced shyly at it ; his eye brightened and his 
 manner became self-conscious as he caught sight 
 
40 SALLY DOWS 
 
 of the young girl, but changed again when he 
 saw her companion. Courtland likewise was 
 conscious of a certain uneasiness ; it was one 
 thing to be helping Miss Sally alone y but certainly 
 another thing to be doing so under the eye of a 
 stranger ; and I am afraid that he met the stony 
 observation of the Englishman with an equally 
 cold stare. Miss Sally alone retained her languid 
 ease and self-possession. She called out : ( Wait 
 a moment, Mr. Champney,' slipped lightly down 
 the ladder, and leaning against it with one foot 
 on its lowest rung awaited his approach. 
 
 ( I reckoned yo' might be passing by,' she 
 said, as he came forward. ' Co'nnle Courtland,' 
 with an explanatory wave of the hammer towards 
 her companion, who remained erect and slightly 
 stiffened on the cornice, ' is no relation to those 
 figures along the frieze of the Redlands' Court 
 House, but a No'th'n officer, a friend of Major 
 Reed's, who's come down here to look after So'th'n 
 property for some No'th'n capitalists. Mr. 
 Champney,' she continued, turning and lifting her 
 eyes to Courtland as she indicated Champney 
 with her hammer, c when he isn't talking Eng- 
 lish, seeing English, thinking English, dressing 
 English, and wondering why God didn't make 
 everything English, is trying to do the same for 
 his folks. Mr. Champney, Co'nnle Courtland. 
 
SALLY DOWS 41 
 
 Co'nnle Courtland, Mr. Champney!' The two 
 men bowed formally. ' And now, Co'nnle, if yo'll 
 come down, Mr. Champney will show yo' round 
 the fahm. When yo've got through yo'll find 
 me here at work.' 
 
 Courtland would have preferred, and half- 
 looked for her company and commentary on this 
 round of inspection, but he concealed his disap- 
 pointment and descended. It did not exactly 
 please him that Champney seemed relieved, and 
 appeared to accept him as a bond fide stranger who 
 could not possibly interfere with any confidential 
 relations that he might have with Miss Sally. 
 Nevertheless he met the Englishman's offer to 
 accompany him with polite gratitude, and they left 
 the house together. 
 
 In less than an hour they returned. It had 
 not even taken that time for Courtland to discover 
 that the real improvements and the new methods 
 had originated with Miss Sally ; that she was 
 virtually the controlling influence there, and that 
 she was probably retarded rather than assisted by 
 the old-fashioned and traditional conservatism of 
 the company of which Champney was steward. 
 It was equally plain, however, that the young 
 fellow was dimly conscious of this, and was frankly 
 communicative about it. 
 
 ' You see, over there they work things in a 
 
42 SALLY DOWS 
 
 different way, and, by Jove ! they can't understand 
 that thefe is any other, don't you know ? They're 
 always wigging me as if I could help it, although 
 I've tried to explain the nigger business, and all 
 that, don't you know ? They want Miss Dows 
 to refer her plans to me, and expect me to report 
 on them, and then they'll submit them to the 
 Board and wait for its decision. Fancy Miss 
 Dows doing that ! But, by Jove ! they can't 
 conceive of her at all over there, don't you 
 know ? ' 
 
 ' Which Miss Dows do you mean ? ' asked 
 Gourtland drily. 
 
 ' Miss Sally, of course,' said the young fellow 
 briskly. ' She manages everything her aunt 
 included. She can make those niggers work 
 when no one else can, a word or smile from her is 
 enough. She can make terms with dealers and 
 contractors her own terms too when they won't 
 look at my figures. By Jove ! she even gets 
 points out of those travelling agents and inventors, 
 don't you know, who come along the road with 
 patents and samples. She got one of those 
 lightning-rod and wire fence men to show her how 
 to put up an arbour for her trailing roses. Why, 
 when I first saw you up on the cornice, I thought 
 you were some other chap that she'd asked don't 
 you know that is, at first, of course ! you know 
 
SALLY DOWS 43 
 
 what I mean ha, by Jove ! before we were 
 introduced, don't you know.' 
 
 ' I think I offered to help Miss Dows,' said 
 Courtland, with a quickness that he at once 
 regretted. 
 
 ( So did he, don't you know ? Miss Sally does 
 not ask anybody. Don't you see ? a fellow don't 
 like to stand by and see a young lady like her 
 doing such work.' Vaguely aware of some 
 infelicity in his speech, he awkwardly turned the 
 subject, ' I don't think I shall stay here long, 
 myself.' 
 
 'You expect to return to England?' asked 
 Courtland. 
 
 ' Oh, no ! But I shall go out of the company's 
 service and try my own hand. There's a good 
 bit of land about three miles from here that's in 
 the market, and I think I could make something 
 out of it. A fellow ought to settle down and be 
 his own master,' he answered tentatively, ' eh ?' 
 
 * But how will Miss Dows be able to spare 
 you ? ' asked Courtland, uneasily conscious that he 
 was assuming an indifference. 
 
 ' Oh, I'm not much use to her, don't you know 
 at least not here. But I might, if I had my own 
 land and if we were neighbours. I told you she 
 runs the place, no matter who's here, or whose 
 money is invested.' 
 
44 SALLY BOWS 
 
 1 I presume you are speaking now of young 
 Miss Dows ?' said Courtland drily. 
 
 ' Miss Sally of course always,' said 
 Champney simply. ' She runs the shop.' 
 
 ' Were there not some French investors 
 relations of Miss Dows ? Does anybody repre- 
 sent them ? ' asked Courtland pointedly. 
 
 Yet he was not quite prepared for the naive 
 change in his companion's face. ' No. There 
 was a sort of French cousin who used to be a good 
 deal to the fore, don't you know ? But I rather 
 fancy he didn't come here to look after the pro- 
 perty! returned Champney with a quick laugh. 
 1 I think the aunt must have written to his friends, 
 for they " called him off," and I don't think Miss 
 Sally broke her heart about him. She's not that 
 sort of girl eh ? She could have her pick of the 
 State if she went in for that sort of thing eh ? ' 
 
 Although this was exactly what Courtland was 
 thinking, it pleased him to answer in a distrait 
 sort of fashion, ' Certainly, I should think so,' and 
 to relapse into an apparently business abstrac- 
 tion. 
 
 ' I think I won't go in,' continued Champney 
 as they neared the house again. ' I suppose 
 you'll have something more to say to Miss Dows. 
 If there's anything else you want of me, come 
 to the office. But she II know. And er er if 
 
SALLY DOWS 45 
 
 you're er staying long in this part of the 
 country, ride over and look me up, don't you know ? 
 and have a smoke and a julep ; I have a boy who 
 knows how to mix them, and I've some old brandy 
 sent me from the other side. Good-bye.' 
 
 More awkward in his kindliness than in his 
 simple business confidences, but apparently equally 
 honest in both, he shook Courtland's hand and 
 walked away. Courtland turned towards the 
 house. He had seen the farm and its improve- 
 ments ; he had found some of his own ideas 
 practically discounted ; clearly there was nothing 
 left for him to do but to thank his hostess and take 
 his leave. But he felt far more uneasy than when 
 he had arrived ; and there was a singular sense 
 of incompleteness in his visit that he could not 
 entirely account for. His conversation with 
 Champney had complicated he knew not why 
 his previous theories of Miss Dows, and although 
 he was half conscious that this had nothing to do 
 with the business that brought him there, he tried 
 to think that it had. If Miss Sally was really a 
 a distracting element to contiguous man, it 
 was certainly something to be considered in a 
 matter of business of which she would take a 
 managerial part. It was true that Champney had 
 said she was ' not that sort of girl,' but this was 
 the testimony of one who was clearly under her 
 
46 SALLY DOWS 
 
 influence. He entered the house through the 
 open French window. The parlour was deserted. 
 He walked through the front hall and porch ; no 
 one was there. He lingered a few moments, a 
 slight chagrin beginning to mingle with his uneasi- 
 ness. She might have been on the look-out for him. 
 She or Sophy must have seen him returning. He 
 would ring for Sophy, and leave his thanks and 
 regrets for her mistress. He looked for a bell, 
 touched it, but on being confronted with Sophy, 
 changed his mind and asked to see Miss Dows. 
 In the interval between her departure and the 
 appearance of Miss Sally he resolved to do the 
 very thing which he had dismissed from his 
 thoughts but an hour before as ill-timed and 
 doubtful. He had the photograph and letter in 
 his pocket ; he would make them his excuse for 
 personally taking leave of her. 
 
 She entered with her fair eyebrows lifted in a 
 pretty surprise. 
 
 ' I declare to goodness, I thought yo'd ridden 
 over to the red barn and gone home from there. 
 I got through my work on the vines earlier than 
 I thought. One of Judge Garret's nephews 
 dropped in in time to help me with the last row. 
 Yo' needn't have troubled yo'self to send up for 
 me for mere company manners, but Sophy says 
 yo' looked sort of " anxious and particular " when 
 
SALLY DOWS 47 
 
 yo' asked for me so I suppose yo' want to see me 
 for something.' 
 
 Mentally objurgating Sophy, and with an un- 
 pleasant impression in his mind of the unknown 
 neighbour who had been helping Miss Sally in his 
 place, he nevertheless tried to collect himself gal- 
 lantly. 
 
 ' I don't know what my expression conveyed to 
 Sophy,' he said, with a smile, 'but I trust that 
 what I have to tell you may be interesting enough 
 to make you forget my second intrusion.' He 
 paused, and still smiling, continued : * For more 
 than three years, Miss Dows, you have more or 
 less occupied my thoughts ; and although we have 
 actually met to-day only for the first time, I have 
 during that time carried your image with me con- 
 stantly. Even this meeting, which was only the 
 result of an accident, I had been seeking for three 
 years. I find you here under your own peaceful 
 vine and fig-tree, and yet three years ago you 
 came to me out of the thunder-cloud of battle.' 
 
 ' My good gracious ! ' said Miss Sally. 
 
 She had been clasping her knee with her linked 
 fingers, but separated them and leaned backward 
 on the sofa with affected consternation, but an ex- 
 pression of growing amusement in her bright eyes. 
 Courtland saw the mistake of his tone, but it was 
 too kite to change it now. He handed her the 
 
48 SALLY DOWS 
 
 locket and the letter, and briefly, and perhaps a 
 little more seriously, recounted the incident that 
 had put him in possession of them. But he en- 
 tirely suppressed the more dramatic and ghastly 
 details, and his own superstition and strange pre- 
 possession towards her. 
 
 Miss Sally took the articles without a tremor, 
 or the least deepening or paling of the delicate 
 faint suffusion of her cheek. When she had glanced 
 over the letter, which appeared to be brief, she 
 said, with smiling, half-pitying tranquillity : 
 
 'Yes! it was that poor Chet Brooks, sure! 
 I heard that he was killed at Snake River. It 
 was just like him to rush in and get killed the first 
 pop ! And all for nothing too pure foolish- 
 ness ! ' 
 
 Shocked, yet relieved, but uneasy under both 
 sensations, Courtland went on blindly : 
 
 ' But he was not the only one, Miss Dows. 
 There was another man picked up who also had 
 your picture.' 
 
 1 Yes Joyce Masterton. They sent it to me. 
 But you didn't kill him too ? ' 
 
 1 I don't know that I personally killed either,' 
 he said, a little coldly. He paused, and continued 
 with a gravity which he could not help feeling very 
 inconsistent and even ludicrous : ' They were brave 
 men, Miss Dows.' 
 
SALLY DOWS 49 
 
 ' To have worn my picture ?' said Miss Sally, 
 brightly. 
 
 ' To have thought they had so much to live for, 
 and yet to have willingly laid down their lives for 
 what they believed was right.' 
 
 ' Yo' didn't go huntin' me for three years to 
 tell me, a So'th'n girl, that So'th'n men know how 
 to fight, did yo', co'nnle ? ' returned the young lady ? 
 with the slightest lifting of her head and drooping 
 of her blue veined lids in a divine hauteur. ' They 
 were always ready enough for that, even among 
 themselves. It was much easier for these pooah 
 boys to fight a thing out, than think it out, or work 
 it ut. Yo' folks in the No'th learned to do all 
 three ; that's where you got the grip on us. Yo' 
 look surprised, co'nnle ? ' 
 
 ' I didn't expect you would look at it quite 
 in in that way,' said Courtland, awkwardly. 
 
 ' I am sorry I disappointed yo' after yo'd taken 
 such a heap o' trouble,' returned the young lady, 
 with a puzzling assumption of humility as she rose, 
 and smoothed out her skirts, ' but I couldn't know 
 exactly what yo' might be expecting after three 
 years ; if I had, I might have put on mo'ning.' 
 She stopped and adjusted a straying tendril of her 
 hair with the sharp corner of the dead man's 
 letter. * But I thank yo', all the same, co'nnle. 
 It was real good in yo' to think of toting these 
 
 E 
 
SHE REMOVED HER LITTLE SLIPPER FROM HER FOOT 
 
SALLY DOWS 51 
 
 things over here.' And she held out her hand 
 frankly. 
 
 Courtland took it with the sickening conscious- 
 ness that for the last five minutes he had been an 
 unconscionable ass. He could not prolong the 
 interview, after she had so significantly risen. If 
 he had only taken his leave and kept the letter and 
 locket for a later visit, perhaps when they were 
 older friends ! It was too late now. He bent 
 over her hand for a moment, again thanked her 
 for her courtesy, and withdrew. A moment later 
 she heard the receding beat of his horse's hoofs 
 on the road. 
 
 She opened the drawer of a brass-handled 
 cabinet, and after a moment's critical survey of 
 her picture in the dead man's locket, tossed it and 
 the letter in the recesses of the drawer. Then 
 she stopped, removed her little slipper from her 
 foot, looked at that too, thoughtfully, and called 
 ' Sophy ! ' 
 
 1 Miss Sally ?' said the girl, reappearing at the 
 door. 
 
 * Are you sure you did not move that ladder ? ' 
 
 ' I 'clare to goodness, Miss Sally, I never teched 
 it?' 
 
 Miss Sally directed a critical glance at her 
 handmaiden's red coifed head. ' No,' she said to 
 herself softly, * it felt nicer than wool, anyway ! ' 
 
 E 2 
 
52 SALLY DOWS 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 IN spite of the awkward termination of his visit- 
 or perhaps because of it Courtland called again 
 at the plantation within the week. But this time 
 he was accompanied by Drummond, and was re- 
 ceived by Miss Miranda Dows, a tall, aquiline- 
 nosed spinster of fifty, whose old-time politeness 
 had become slightly affected, and whose old beliefs 
 had given way to a half cynical acceptance of new 
 facts. Mr. Drummond, delighted with the farm 
 and its management, was no less fascinated by 
 Miss Sally, while Courtland was now discreet 
 enough to divide his attentions between her and 
 her aunt, with the result that he was far from 
 participating in Champney's conviction of Miss 
 Miranda's unimportance. To the freedmen she 
 still represented the old implacable task-mistress, 
 and it was evident that they superstitiously be- 
 lieved that she still retained a vague power of 
 over-riding the Fourteenth Amendment at her 
 pleasure, and was only to be restrained by the 
 mediation of the good-humoured and sensible Miss 
 Sally. Courtland was quick to see the value of 
 this influence in the transition state of the freed- 
 men, and pointed it out to his principal. Drum- 
 
SALLY DOWS 53 
 
 rnond's previous doubts and scepticism, already 
 weakened by Miss Sally's fascinations, vanished 
 entirely at this prospect of beneficially utilising 
 these lingering evils of slavery. He was convinced, 
 he was even enthusiastic. The foreign investors 
 were men to be bought out ; the estate improved 
 and enlarged by the company, and the fair owners 
 retained in the management and control. Like 
 most prejudiced men, Drummond's conversion was 
 sudden and extreme, and, being a practical man, 
 was at once acted upon. At a second and third 
 interview the preliminaries were arranged, and in 
 three weeks from Courtland's first visit, the Dows' 
 plantation and part of Major Reed's were merged 
 in the ' Drummond Syndicate,' and placed beyond 
 financial uncertainty. Courtland remained to 
 represent the company as superintendent at Red- 
 lands, and with the transfer of the English invest- 
 ments Champney retired, as he had suggested, to 
 a smaller venture of his own, on a plantation a 
 few miles distant which the company had been 
 unable to secure. 
 
 During this interval Courtland had frequent 
 interviews with Miss Sally, and easy and unre- 
 strained access to her presence. He had never 
 again erred on the side of romance or emotion ; he 
 had never again referred to the infelix letter and 
 photograph ; and, without being obliged to confine 
 
54 SALLY DOWS 
 
 himself strictly to business affairs, he had main- 
 tained an even, quiet, neighbourly intercourse 
 with her. Much of this was the result of his own 
 self-control and soldierly training, and gave little 
 indication of the deeper feeling that he was 
 conscious lay beneath it. At times he caught 
 the young girl's eyes fixed upon him with a mis- 
 chievous curiosity. A strange thrill went through 
 him ; there are few situations so subtle and 
 dangerous as the accidental confidences and under- 
 standings of two young people of opposite sex, 
 even though the question of any sentimental in- 
 clination be still in abeyance. Courtland knew 
 that Miss Sally remembered the too serious 
 attitude he had taken . towards her past. She 
 might laugh at it, and even resent it, but she 
 knew it, remembered it, knew that he did, and 
 this precious knowledge was confined to them- 
 selves. It was in their minds when there was a 
 pause in their more practical and conventional 
 conversation, and was even revealed in the 
 excessive care which Miss Sally later took to 
 avert at the right moment her mischievously 
 smiling eyes. Once she went further. Courtland 
 had just finished explaining to her a plan for 
 substituting small farm buildings for the usual 
 half-cultivated garden-patches dear to the negro 
 field hand, and had laid down the drawings on 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 55 
 
 the table in the office, when the young lady, 
 leaning against it with her hands behind her, fixed 
 her bright grey eyes on his serious face. 
 
 FIXED HER BRIGHT GREY EYES ON HIS SERIOUS FACE 
 
 * I vow and protest, co'nnle,' she said, dropping 
 into one of the quaint survivals of an old-time 
 
56 SALLY DOWS 
 
 phraseology, peculiar to her people, ' I never 
 allowed yo' could just give yo'self up to business, 
 soul and body, as yo' do, when I first met yo' that 
 day.' 
 
 'Why, what did you think me?' he asked 
 quickly. 
 
 Miss Sally, who had a Southern aptitude for 
 gesture, took one little hand from behind her, 
 twirled it above her head with a pretty air of 
 disposing of some airy nothing in a presumably 
 masculine fashion, and said : * Oh, that' 
 
 ( I am afraid I did not impress you then as a 
 very practical man,' he said, with a faint colour. 
 
 ' I thought you roosted rather high, co'nnle, 
 to pick up many worms in the mo'ning. But,' 
 she added with a dazzling smile, ' I reckon from 
 what yo' said about the photograph, yo' thought 
 / wasn't exactly what yo' believed I ought to be 
 either.' 
 
 He would have liked to tell her then and 
 there that he would have been content if those 
 bright beautiful eyes had never kindled with any- 
 thing but love or womanly aspiration ; that that 
 soft, lazy, caressing voice had never been lifted 
 beyond the fire-side or domestic circle ; that the 
 sunny, tendrilled hair and pink ears had never 
 inclined to anything but whispered admiration ; 
 and that the graceful, lithe, erect figure, so inde- 
 
SALLY DOWS 57 
 
 pendent and self-contained, had been satisfied to 
 lean only upon his arm for support. He was 
 conscious that this had been in his mind when he 
 first saw her ; he was equally conscious that she 
 was more bewilderingly fascinating to him in her 
 present inaccessible intelligence and practicality. 
 
 ' I confess,' he said, looking into her eyes 
 with a vague smile, ' I did not expect you would 
 be so forgetful of some one who had evidently 
 cared for you.' 
 
 ' Meaning Mr. Chet Brooks, or Mr. Joyce 
 Masterton, or both. That's like most yo' men, 
 co'nnle. Yo' reckon because a girl pleases you 
 she ought to be grateful all her life and yo'rs 
 too ! Yo' think different now ! But yo' needn't 
 act up to it quite so much.' She made a little 
 deprecating gesture with her disengaged hand as 
 if to ward off any retaliating gallantry. * I ain't 
 speaking for myself, co'nnle. Yo' and me are 
 good enough friends. But the girls round here 
 think yo're a trifle too much taken up with rice 
 and niggers. And looking at it even in yo'r 
 light, co'nnle, it ain't business. Yo' want to keep 
 straight with Major Reed, so it would be just as 
 well to square the Major's woman folks. Tavy 
 and Gussie Reed ain't exactly poisonous, co'nnle, 
 and yo' might see one or the other home from 
 church next Sunday. The Sunday after that, 
 
58 SALLY DOWS 
 
 just to show yo' ain't particular, and that yo' go 
 in for being a regular beau, yo' might walk home 
 with me. Don't be frightened I've got a better 
 gown than this. It's a new one, just come home 
 from Louisville, and I'll wear it for the occasion.' 
 
 He did not dare to say that the quaint frock 
 she was then wearing a plain ' checked ' house- 
 hold gingham used for children's pinafores, with 
 its ribbons of the same pattern, gathered in bows 
 at the smart apron pockets, had become a part of 
 her beauty, for he was already hopelessly conscious 
 that she was lovely in anything, and he might be 
 impelled to say so. He thanked her gravely and 
 earnestly, but without gallantry or effusion, and 
 had the satisfaction of seeing the mischief in her 
 eyes increase in proportion to his seriousness, and 
 heard her say with affected concern : ' Bear up, 
 co'nnle ! Don't let it worry yo' till the time 
 comes,' and took his leave. 
 
 On the following Sunday he was present at 
 the Recllands Episcopal Church, and after the 
 service stood with outward composure but some 
 inward chafing among the gallant youth who, 
 after the local fashion, had ranged themselves 
 outside the doors of the building. He was some- 
 what surprised to find Mr. Champney, evidently 
 as much out of place as himself, but less self- 
 contained, waiting in the crowd of expectant 
 
SALLY DOWS 59 
 
 cavaliers. Although convinced that the young 
 Englishman had come only to see Miss Sally, he 
 was glad to share his awkward isolation with 
 another stranger, and greeted him pleasantly. 
 The Dows' pew being nearer to the entrance than 
 the Reeds' gave up its occupants first. Colonel 
 Courtland lifted his hat to Miss Miranda and her 
 niece, at the same moment that Champney moved 
 forward and ranged himself beside them. Miss 
 Sally catching Courtland's eye showed the whites 
 of her own in a backward glance of mischievous 
 significance to indicate the following Reeds. 
 When they approached, Courtland joined them, 
 and finding himself beside Miss Octavia entered 
 into conversation. Apparently the suppressed 
 passion and sardonic melancholy of that dark-eyed 
 young lady spurred him to a lighter, gayer humour 
 even in proportion as Miss Sally's good-natured 
 levity and sunny practicality always made him 
 serious. They presently fell to the rear with 
 other couples and were soon quite alone. 
 
 A little haughty, but tall and erect in her well- 
 preserved black grenadine dress, which gave her 
 the appearance of a youthful but implacable 
 widow, Miss Reed declared she had not seen the 
 co'nnle for ' a coon's age,' and certainly had not 
 expected to have the honour of his company as 
 long as there were niggers to be elevated or 
 
60 SALLY DOWS 
 
 painted to look like white men. She hoped that 
 he and paw and Sally Dows were happy ! They 
 hadn't yet got so far as to put up a nigger 
 preacher in the place of Mr. Symes, their rector, 
 but she understood that there was some talk of 
 running Hannibal Johnson Miss Dows' coach- 
 man for county judge next year ! No ! she had 
 not heard that the co'nnle himself \\.dA thought of 
 running for the office ! He might laugh at her 
 as much as he liked he seemed to be in better 
 spirits than when she first saw him only she 
 would like to know if it was ' No'th'n style' to 
 laugh coming home from church ? Of course if 
 it was she would have to adopt it with the Four- 
 teenth Amendment. But, just now, she noticed 
 the folks were staring at them, and Miss Sally 
 Dows had turned round to look. Nevertheless, 
 Miss Octavia's sallow cheek nearest the Colonel 
 the sunny side had taken a faint brunette's 
 flush, and the corners of her proud mouth were 
 slightly lifted. 
 
 ' But, candidly, Miss Reed, don't you think 
 that you would prefer to have old Hannibal, whom 
 you know, as county judge, than a stranger and 
 a Northern man like me ? ' 
 
 Miss Reed's dark eyes glanced sideways at the 
 handsome face and elegant figure beside her. Some- 
 thing like a saucy smile struggled to her thin lips. 
 
SALLY DOWS 61 
 
 ' There mightn't be much to choose, co'nnle.' 
 
 ' I admit it. We should both acknowledge 
 our mistress, and be like wax in her hands.' 
 
 1 Yo' ought to make that pooty speech to Sally 
 Dows, she's generally mistress around here. But,' 
 she added, suddenly fixing her eyes on him, ' how 
 does it happen that yo' ain't walking with her 
 instead of that Englishman ? Yo' know that 
 it's as plain as day that he took that land over 
 there just to be near her, when he was no longer 
 agent.' 
 
 But Courtland was always master of himself 
 and quite at ease regarding Miss Sally when not 
 in that lady's presence.. ' You forget,' he said 
 smilingly, ' that I'm still a stranger and know little 
 of the local gossip ; and if I did know it, I am 
 afraid we didn't bargain to buy up with the land 
 Mr. Champney's personal interest in the landlady' 
 
 ' Yo'ld have had your hands full, for I reckon 
 she's pooty heavily mortgaged in that fashion, 
 already,' returned Miss Reed with more badinage 
 than spitefulness in the suggestion. 'And Mr. 
 Champney was run pooty close by a French cousin 
 of hers when he was here. Yo' haven't got any 
 French books to lend me, co'nnle have yo' ? Paw 
 says you read a heap of French, and I find it 
 mighty hard to keep up my practice since I left the 
 Convent at St. Louis, for paw don't know what 
 
62 SALLY DOIVS 
 
 sort of books to order, and I reckon he makes 
 awful mistakes sometimes.' 
 
 The conversation here turning upon polite 
 literature, it appeared that Miss Octavia's French 
 reading, through a shy, proud innocence and an 
 imperfect knowledge of the wicked subtleties of the 
 language, was somewhat broad and unconventional 
 for a young lady. Courtland promised to send 
 her some books, and even ventured to suggest 
 some American and English novels not intensely 
 ' No'th'n ' nor 'metaphysical' according to the 
 accepted Southern beliefs. A new respect and 
 pitying interest in this sullen, solitary girl, cramped 
 by tradition, and bruised rather than enlightened 
 by sad experiences, came over him. He found 
 himself talking quite confidentially to the lifted 
 head, arched eyebrows, and aquiline nose beside 
 him, and even thinking what a handsome high bred 
 brother she might have been to some one. When 
 they had reached the house, in compliance with 
 the familiar custom, he sat down on one of the 
 lower steps of the verandah, while she, shaking out 
 her skirt, took a seat a step or two above him. 
 This enabled him, after the languid local fashion, 
 to lean on his elbow and gaze up into the eyes 
 of the young lady, while she with equal languor 
 looked down upon him. But in the present 
 instance Miss Reed leaned forward suddenly, and 
 
' YO MEAN TO SAY, THERE'S NOTHING BETWEEN YO' AND SALLY DOWS ? 
 
64 SALLY DOWS 
 
 darting a sharp quick glance into his very con- 
 sciousness, said : 
 
 1 And yo' mean to say, co'nnle, there's nothing 
 between yo' and Sally Dows ? ' 
 
 Courtland neither flushed, trembled, grew 
 confused, nor prevaricated. 
 
 ' We are good friends, I think,' he replied 
 quietly, without evasion or hesitation. 
 
 Miss Reed looked at him thoughtfully. * I 
 reckon that is so and no more. And that's why 
 yo've been so lucky in everything,' she said 
 slowly. 
 
 ' I don't think I quite understand,' returned 
 Courtland, smiling. ' Is this a paradox or a 
 consolation ? ' 
 
 ' It's the truth] said Miss Reed, gravely. 
 1 Those who try to be anything more to Sally 
 Dows lose their luck.' 
 
 1 That is are rejected by her. Is she really 
 so relentless ? ' continued Courtland, gaily. 
 
 ' I mean that they lose their luck in every- 
 thing. Something is sure to happen. And she 
 can't help it either.' 
 
 1 Is this a Sibylline warning, Miss Reed?' 
 
 ' No. It's nigger superstition. It came from 
 Mammy Judy, Sally's old nurse. It's part of their 
 regular Hoo doo. 1 She bewitched Miss Sally 
 
 1 I.e. Negro witchcraft ; from ' Voo-doo,' probably. 
 
SALLY DOWS 65 
 
 when she was a baby, so that everybody is bound 
 to her as long as they care for her, and she isn't 
 bound to them in any way. All their luck goes 
 to her as soon as the spell is on them,' she added 
 darkly. 
 
 * I think I know the rest,' returned Courtland 
 with still greater solemnity. * You gather the 
 buds of the witch hazel in April when the moon 
 is full. You then pluck three hairs from the 
 young lady's right eyebrow when she isn't look- 
 ing ' 
 
 * Yo' can laugh, co'nnle, for yo're lucky be- 
 cause yo're free.' 
 
 ' I'm not so sure of that,' he said gallantly, ' for 
 I ought to be riding at this moment over to the 
 Infirmary to visit my Sunday sick. If being 
 made to pleasantly forget one's time and duty is 
 a sign of witchcraft I am afraid Mammy Judy's 
 enchantments were not confined to only one 
 Southern young lady.' 
 
 The sound of quick footsteps on the gravel 
 path caused them both to look up. A surly- 
 looking young fellow, ostentatiously booted and 
 spurred, and carrying a heavy raw hide riding- 
 whip in his swinging hand, was approaching them. 
 Deliberately, yet with uneasy self-consciousness, 
 ignoring the presence of Courtland, he nodded 
 abruptly to Miss Reed, ascended the steps, brushed 
 
 F 
 
66 SALLY DOWS 
 
 past them both without pausing, and entered the 
 house. 
 
 1 Is that yo'r manners, Mr. Tom ? ' called the 
 young lady after him, a slight flush rising to her 
 sallow cheek. The young man muttered some- 
 thing from the hall which Courtland did not catch. 
 * It's Cousin Tom Higbee,' she explained half 
 disdainfully. * He's had some ugliness with his 
 horse, I reckon ; but paw ought to teach him how 
 to behave. And I don't think he likes No'th'n 
 men,' she added gravely. 
 
 Courtland, who had kept his temper with his 
 full understanding of the intruder's meaning, 
 smiled as he took Miss Reed's hand in parting. 
 ' That's quite enough explanation, and I don't 
 know why it shouldn't be even an apology.' 
 
 Yet the incident left little impression on him 
 as he strolled back to Redlands. It was not the 
 first time he had tasted the dregs of former sec- 
 tional hatred in incivility and discourtesy, but as it 
 seldom came from his old personal antagonists 
 the soldiers and was confined to the callow 
 youth, previous non-combatants and politicians, 
 he could afford to overlook it. He did not see 
 Miss* Sally during the following week. 
 
SALLY DOWS 67 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ON the next Sunday he was early at church. 
 But he had perhaps accented the occasion by 
 driving there in a light buggy behind a fast 
 thoroughbred, possibly selected more to the taste 
 of a smart cavalry' officer than an agricultural 
 superintendent. He was already in a side pew, 
 his eyes dreamily fixed on the prayer-book ledge 
 before him, when there was a rustle at the church 
 door, and a thrill of curiosity and admiration 
 passed over the expectant congregation. It was 
 the entrance of the Dows party, Miss Sally well 
 to the fore. She was in her new clothes, the 
 latest fashion in Louisville, the latest but two in 
 Paris and New York. 
 
 It was over twenty years ago. I shall not im- 
 peril the effect of that lovely vision by recalling to 
 the eye of to-day a fashion of yesterday. Enough, 
 that it enabled her to set her sweet face and 
 vapoury golden hair in a horseshoe frame of deli- 
 cate flowers, and to lift her oval chin out of a be- 
 wildering mist of tulle. Nor did a certain light 
 polonaise conceal the outlines of her charming 
 figure. Even those who were constrained to 
 whisper to each other that * Miss Sally ' must ' be 
 
 F 2 
 
68 SALLY DOWS 
 
 now going on twenty-five,' did so because she 
 still carried the slender graces of seventeen. The 
 organ swelled as if to welcome her ; as she took 
 her seat a ray of sunlight, that would have been 
 cruel and searching to any other complexion, 
 drifted across the faint pink of her cheeks, and 
 nestling in her nebulous hair became itself trans- 
 figured. A few stained-glass Virtues on the win- 
 dows did not come out of this effulgence as 
 triumphantly, and it was small wonder that -the 
 devotional eyes of the worshippers wandered from 
 them to the face of Sally Dows. 
 
 When the service was over, as the congrega- 
 tion filed slowly into the aisle, Courtland slipped 
 mutely behind her. As she reached the porch he 
 sa'd in an undertone : ' I brought my horse and 
 buggy. I thought you might possibly allow me 
 to drive But he was stopped by a distress- 
 
 ful knitting of her golden brows. ' No,' she said 
 quickly, but firmly, * you must not it won't do.' 
 As Courtland hesitated in momentary perplexity, 
 she smiled sweetly : ' We'll walk round by the 
 cemetery if you like, it will take about as long as 
 a drive' Courtland vanished, gave hurried in- 
 structions and a dollar to a lounging negro, and 
 rejoined Miss Sally as the delighted and proud 
 freedman drove out of the gate. Miss Sally 
 heaved a slight sigh as the gallant equipage passed. 
 
SALLY DOIVS 69 
 
 ' It was a mighty pooty turn-out, co'nnle, and I'd 
 have just admired to go, but it would have been 
 rather hard on the other folks. There's the Reeds 
 and Maxwells and Robertsons that are too pooah 
 to keep blood horses, and too proud to ride behind 
 anything else. It wouldn't be the right thing for 
 us to go whirling by, scattering our dust over 
 them.' There was something so subtly pleasant 
 in this implied partnership of responsibility, that 
 Courtland forgot the abrupt refusal and thought 
 only of the tact that prompted it. Nevertheless, 
 here a spell seemed to fall upon his usually ready 
 speech. Now that they were together for the 
 first time in a distinctly social fashion, he found 
 himself vacantly, meaninglessly silent, content to 
 walk beside this charming, summery presence, 
 brushed by its delicate draperies, and inhaling its 
 freshness. Presently it spoke. 
 
 1 It would take more than a thousand feet of 
 lumber to patch up the cowsheds beyond the 
 Moseley pasture, and an entirely new building with 
 an improved dairy would require only about two 
 thousand more. All the old material would come 
 in good for fencing, and could be used with the 
 new post and rails. Don't yo' think it would be 
 better to have an out-and-out new building ? ' 
 
 1 Yes, certainly,' returned Courtland, a little 
 confusedly. He had not calculated upon this 
 
70 SALLY DOWS 
 
 practical conversation, and was the more discon- 
 certed as they were passing some of the other 
 couples, who had purposely lingered to overhear 
 them. 
 
 ' And,' continued the young girl, brightly, ' the 
 freight question is getting to be a pretty serious 
 one. Aunt Miranda holds some shares in the 
 Briggsville branch line, and thinks something 
 could be done with the directors for a new tariff 
 of charges if she put a pressure on them ; Tyler 
 says that there was some talk of their reducing it 
 one-sixteenth per cent, before we move this year's 
 crop.' 
 
 Courtland glanced quickly at his companion's 
 face. It was grave, but there was the faintest 
 wrinkling of the corner of the eyelid nearest him. 
 * Had we not better leave these serious questions 
 .until to-morrow ? ' he said smiling. 
 
 Miss Sally opened her eyes demurely. * Why, 
 you seemed so quiet, I reckoned you must be full of 
 business this morning ; but if yo' prefer company 
 talk, we'll change the subject. They say that yo' 
 and Miss Reed didn't have much trouble to find 
 one last Sunday. She don't usually talk much, 
 but she keeps up a power of thinking. I should 
 reckon,' she added, suddenly eying him critically, 
 ' that yo' and she might have a heap o' things to 
 say to each other. She's a good deal in yo' 
 
SALLY DOWS 71 
 
 fashion, co'nnle, she don't forget, but ' more 
 slowly 'I don't know that that's altogether the 
 best thing for yd \ ' 
 
 Courtland lifted his eyes with affected con- 
 sternation. ' If this is in the light of another 
 mysterious warning, Miss Dows, I warn you that 
 my intellect is already tottering with them. Last 
 Sunday Miss Reed thrilled me for an hour with 
 superstition and Cassandra-like prophecy. Don't 
 things ever happen accidentally here, and without 
 warning ? ' 
 
 ' I mean/ returned the young lady, with her 
 usual practical directness, ' that Tave Reed re- 
 members a good many horrid things about the 
 wah that she ought to forget, but don't. But,' she 
 continued, looking at him curiously, * she allows 
 she was mighty cut up by her cousin's manner 
 to yo'.' 
 
 * I am afraid that Miss Reed was more annoyed 
 than I was,' said Courtland. * I should be very 
 sorry if she attached any importance to it,' he 
 added, earnestly. 
 
 'Andyo don't?' continued Miss Sally. 
 
 ' No. Why should I ? ' .She noticed, however, 
 that he had slightly drawn himself up a little more 
 erect, and she smiled as he continued : * I dare 
 say I should feel as he does if I were in his 
 place.' 
 
72 SALLY DOWS 
 
 'Butyo wouldn't do anything underhanded,' 
 she said quietly. As he glanced at her quickly, 
 she added drily : ' Don't trust too much to people 
 always acting in yo' fashion, co'nnle. And don't 
 think too much nor too little of what yo' hear here. 
 Yo're just the kind of man to make a good many 
 silly enemies, and as many foolish friends. And 
 I don't know which will give yo' the most trouble. 
 Only don't yo' underrate either, or hold yo' head 
 so high, yo' don't see what's crawlin' around yo'. 
 That's why, in a copper-head l swamp, a horse is 
 bitten oftener than a hog.' 
 
 She smiled, yet with knitted brows and such 
 a pretty affectation of concern for her companion, 
 that he suddenly took heart. 
 
 ' I wish I had one friend I could call my 
 own,' he said, boldly looking straight into her 
 eyes. ' I'd care little for other friends, and fear no 
 enemies.' 
 
 * Yo're right, co'nnle,' she said, ostentatiously 
 slanting her parasol in a marvellous simulation of 
 hiding a purely imaginative blush on a cheek that 
 was perfectly infantine in its unchanged pink ; 
 ' company talk is much pootier than what we've 
 been saying. And meaning me for I reckon 
 yo' wouldn't say that of any other girl but the one 
 yo're walking with what's the matter with me ?' 
 
 1 A venomous southern Serpent ( Trigonocephalus contortrix}. 
 
SALLY DOWS 73 
 
 He could not help smiling, though he hesitated. 
 1 Nothing ! but others have been disappointed.' 
 
 * And that bothers you ? ' 
 
 ' I mean 7 have as yet had no right to put 
 your feelings to any test, while ' 
 
 * Poor Chet had, yo' were going to say ! Well, 
 here we are at the cemetery ! I reckoned yo' 
 were bound to get back to the dead again before, 
 we'd gone far, and that's why I thought we might 
 take the cemetery on our way. It may put me in 
 a more proper frame of mind to please yo'.' 
 
 As he raised his eyes, he could not repress a 
 slight start. He had not noticed before that they 
 had passed through a small gateway on diverging 
 from the road, and was quite unprepared to find 
 himself on the edge of a gentle slope, leading to a 
 beautiful valley, and before him a long vista of 
 tombs, white headstones and low crosses, edged 
 by drooping cypress and trailing feathery vines. 
 Some vines had fallen and been caught in long 
 loops from bough to bough, like funeral garlands, 
 and here and there the tops of isolated palmettos 
 lifted a cluster of hearse-like plumes. Yet in spite 
 of this dominance of sombre but graceful shadow, 
 the drooping delicacy of dark tasselled foliage and 
 leafy fringes, and the waving mourning veils of 
 grey, translucent moss, a glorious vivifying 
 Southern sun smiled and glittered everywhere as 
 
74 SALLY DOWS 
 
 through tears. The balm of bay, southernwood, 
 pine, and syringa breathed through the long alleys ; 
 the stimulating scent of roses moved with every 
 zephyr, and the closer odours of jessamine, honey- 
 suckle, and orange-flowers hung heavily in the 
 hollows. It seemed to Courtland like the mourning 
 of beautiful and youthful widowhood, seductive 
 even in its dissembling trappings, provocative in 
 the contrast of its own still strong virility. Every- 
 where the grass grew thick and luxuriant ; the 
 quick earth was teeming with the germination of 
 the dead below. 
 
 They moved slowly along side by side, 
 speaking only of the beauty of the spot and the 
 glory of that summer day, which seemed to have 
 completed its perfection here. Perhaps from the 
 heat, the overpowering perfume, or some unsus- 
 pected sentiment, the young lady became presently 
 as silent and preoccupied as her companion. She 
 began to linger and loiter behind, hovering like a 
 butterfly over some flowering shrub or clustered 
 sheaf of lilies, until, encountered suddenly in her 
 floating draperies, she might have been taken for 
 a somewhat early and far too becoming ghost. It 
 seemed to him also that her bright eyes were 
 slightly shadowed by a gentle thoughtfulness. 
 He moved close to her side with an irresistible 
 impulse of tenderness, but she turned suddenly, 
 
SALLY DOWS 75 
 
 and saying, ' Come ! ' moved at a quicker pace 
 down a narrow side path. Courtland followed. 
 He had not gone far before he noticed that the 
 graves seemed to fall into regular lines, the em- 
 blems became cheaper and more common ; wooden 
 head- and foot-stones of one monotonous pattern 
 took the place of carved freestone or marble, and 
 he knew that they had reached that part of the 
 cemetery reserved for those who had fallen in the 
 war. The long lines drawn with military precision 
 stretched through the little valley, and again up 
 the opposite hill in an odd semblance of hollow 
 squares, ranks, and columns. A vague recollection 
 of the fateful slope of Snake River came over him. 
 It was intensified as Miss Sally, who was still 
 preceding him, suddenly stopped before an isolated 
 mound, bearing a broken marble shaft and a 
 pedestal with the inscription : ' Chester Brooks.' 
 A few withered garlands and immortelles were 
 lying at its base, but encircling the broken shaft 
 was a perfectly fresh, unfaded wreath. 
 
 ' You never told me he was buried here ? ' said 
 Courtland quickly, half shocked at the unexpected 
 revelation. ' Was he from this State ? ' 
 
 ' No, but his regiment was,' said Miss Sally 
 eyeing the wreath critically. 
 
 ' And this wreath, is it from you ? ' continued 
 Courtland gently. 
 
76 
 
 SALLY DOWS 
 
 'AND THIS WREATH, IS IT FROM YOU?' CONTINUED 
 COURTLAND GENTLY 
 
SALLY DOWS 77 
 
 ' Yes, I thought yo'ld like to see something 
 fresh and pooty, instead of those stale ones.' 
 
 * And were they also from you ? ' he asked 
 even more gently. 
 
 ' Dear no ! They were left over from last 
 anniversary day by some of the veterans. That's 
 the only one I put there that is I got Mr. 
 Champney to leave it here on his way to his house. 
 He lives just yonder, yo' know.' 
 
 It was impossible to resist this invincible 
 naivete. Courtland bit his lip as the vision arose 
 before him of this still more naif English admirer 
 bringing hither, at Miss Sally's bidding, the tribute 
 which she wished to place on the grave of an old 
 lover to please a third man. Meantime she had 
 put her two little hands behind her back in the 
 simulated attitude of ' a good girl,' and was saying 
 half smilingly, and he even thought half wistfully : 
 
 ' Are yo' satisfied ? ' 
 
 ' Perfectly.' 
 
 ' Then let's go away. It's mighty hot here.' 
 
 They turned away, and descending the slope 
 again re-entered the thicker shade of the main 
 avenue. Here they seemed to have left the 
 sterner aspect of Death. They walked slowly ; 
 the air was heavy with the hot incense of flowers ; 
 the road sinking a little left a grassy bank on one 
 side. Here Miss Sally halted and listlessly seated 
 
78 SALLY DOWS 
 
 herself, motioning Courtland to do the same. He 
 obeyed eagerly. The incident of the wreath had 
 troubled him, albeit with contending sensations. 
 She had given it to please him ; why should he 
 question the manner, or torment himself with any 
 retrospective thought ? He would have given 
 worlds to have been able to accept it lightly or 
 gallantly with any other girl he could but he 
 knew he was trembling on the verge of a passion- 
 ate declaration ; the magnitude of the stake was 
 too great to be imperilled by a levity of which she 
 was more a mistress than himself, and he knew 
 that his sentiment had failed to impress her. His 
 pride kept him from appealing to her strangely 
 practical nature, although he had recognised and 
 accepted it, and had even begun to believe it an 
 essential part of the strong fascination she had 
 over him. But being neither a coward, nor a 
 weak, hesitating idealist, when he deliberately took 
 his seat beside her he as deliberately made up his 
 mind to accept his fate, whatever it might be, then 
 and there. 
 
 Perhaps there was something of this in his face. 
 * I thought yo' were looking a little white, co'nnle,' 
 she said quietly, * and I reckoned we might sit 
 down a spell, and then take it slowly home. Yo' 
 ain't accustomed to the So'th'n sun, and the air in 
 the hollow was swampy.' As he made a slight 
 
SALLY DOWS 79 
 
 gesture of denial, she went on with a pretty sisterly 
 superiority : * That's the way of yo' No'th'n men. 
 Yo' think yo' can do everything just as if yo' were 
 reared to it, and yo' never make allowance for 
 different climates, different blood, and different 
 customs. That's where you slip up.' 
 
 But he was already leaning towards her with 
 his dark earnest eyes fixed upon her in a way she 
 could no longer mistake. ' At the risk of slipping 
 up again, Miss- Dows/ he said gently, dropping 
 into her dialect with utterly unconscious flattery, 
 ' I am going to ask you to teach me everything 
 you wish, to be all that you demand which would 
 be far better. You have said we were good 
 friends ; I want you to let me hope to be more. 
 I want you to overlook my deficiencies and the 
 differences of my race and let me meet you on the 
 only level where I can claim to be the equal of 
 your own people that of loving you. Give me 
 only the same chance you gave the other poor 
 fellow who sleeps yonder the same chance you 
 gave the luckier man who carried the wreath for 
 you to put upon his grave.' 
 
 She had listened with delicately knitted brows, 
 the faintest touch of colour and a half laughing, 
 half superior disapprobation. When he had 
 finished, she uttered a plaintive little sigh. * Yo' 
 oughtn't to have said that, co'nnle, but yo' and me 
 
8o .-'.SALLY DOWS 
 
 are too good friends to let even that stand between 
 us. And to prove it to yo' I'm going to forget it 
 right away and so are yo'.' 
 
 ' But I cannot,' he said quickly ; ' if I could I 
 should be unworthy of even your friendship. If 
 you must reject it, do not make me feel the shame 
 of thinking you believe me capable of wanton 
 trifling. I know that this avowal is abrupt to you, 
 but it is not to me. You have known me only for 
 three months, but these three months have been 
 to me the realisation of three years' dreaming ! ' 
 As she remained looking at him with bright, 
 curious eyes, but still shaking her fair head dis- 
 tressedly, he moved nearer and caught her hand 
 in the little pale lilac thread glove that was, never- 
 theless, too wide for her small fingers, and said 
 appealingly : ' But why should you forget it ? 
 Why must it be a forbidden topic ? What is the 
 barrier ? Are you no longer free ? Speak, Miss 
 Dows give me some hope. Miss Dows ! 
 Sally!' 
 
 She had drawn herself away, distressed, protest- 
 ing, her fair head turned aside, until with a slight 
 twist and narrowing of her hand she succeeded in 
 slipping it from the glove which she left a prisoner 
 in his eager clasp. * There ! Yo' can keep the 
 glove, co'nnle,' she said, breathing quickly. ' Sit 
 down ! This is not the place nor the weather for 
 
SALLY DOWS - 81 
 
 husking frolics ! Well ! yo' want to know why 
 yo' mustn't speak to me in that way. Be still, and 
 I'll tell yo'.' 
 
 She smoothed down the folds of her frock, 
 sitting sideways on the bank, one little foot touch- 
 ing the road. ' Yo' mustn't speak that way to me,' 
 she went on slowly, ' because it's as much as yo' 
 company's wo'th, as much as 02tr property's 
 wo'th, as much maybe as yo' life's wo'th ! Don't 
 lift yo' comb, co'nnle ; if you don't care for that, 
 others may. Sit still, I tell yo' ! Well, yo' come 
 here from the No'th to run this property for money 
 that's square and fair business ; that any fool 
 here can understand its No'th'n style ; it don't 
 interfere with these fools' family affairs ; it don't 
 bring into their blood any No'th'n taint ; it don't 
 divide their clannishness ; it don't separate father 
 and son, sister and brother ; and even if yo' got 
 a foothold here and settled down, they know they 
 can ahvays outvote yo' five to one ! But let these 
 same fools know that yo're courtin' a So'th'n girl 
 known to be " Union " during the wah, that girl 
 who has laughed at their foolishness ; let them 
 even think that he wants that girl to mix up the 
 family and the race and the property for him, and 
 there ain't a young or old fool that believes in 
 So'th'n isolation as the price of So'th'n salvation 
 that wouldn't rise against yo' ! There isn't one 
 
 G 
 
82 SALLY DOWS 
 
 that wouldn't make shipwreck of yo'r syndicate 
 and yo'r capital and the prosperity of Redlands 
 for the next four years to come, and think they 
 were doing right ! They began to suspect yo' 
 from the first ! They suspected yo' when yo' 
 never went anywhere, but stuck close to the fahm 
 and me. That's why I wanted yo' to show yourself 
 among the girls ; they wouldn't have minded yo' 
 flirting with them with the chance of yo' breaking 
 yo' heart over Tave Reed or Lympy Morris ! 
 They're fools enough to believe that a snub or a 
 jilt from a So'th'n girl would pay them back for a 
 lost battle or a ruined plantation ! ' 
 
 For the first time Miss Sally saw Courtland's 
 calm blood fly to his cheek, and kindle in his eye. 
 ' You surely do not expect me to tolerate this 
 blind and insolent interference ! ' he said, rising to 
 his feet. 
 
 She lifted her ungloved hand in deprecation. 
 ' Sit still, co'nnle. Yo've been a soldier, and yo' 
 know what duty is. Well ! what's yo' duty to yo' 
 company ? ' 
 
 * It neither includes my private affairs, nor 
 regulates the beating of my heart. I will 
 resign.' 
 
 * And leave me and Aunt Miranda, and the 
 plantation ? ' 
 
 ' No ! The company will find another super- 
 
SALLY DOWS 83 
 
 intendent to look after your aunt's affairs, and 
 carry out our plans. And you, Sally you will 
 let me find you a home and fortune north ? There 
 is work for me there ; there is room for you among 
 my people.' 
 
 She shook her head slowly with a sweet but 
 superior smile. * No, co'nnle ! I didn't believe 
 in the wah, but the least I could do was to stand 
 by my folks and share the punishment that I knew 
 was coming from it. I despise this foolishness as 
 much as yo', but I can't run away from it. Come, 
 co'nnle, I won't ask yo' to forget this ; mo', I'll 
 even believe yo' meant it, but yo'll promise me 
 yo' won't speak of it again as long as yo' are. with 
 the company and Aunt Miranda and me ! There 
 mustn't be more there mustn't even seem to be 
 more between us.' 
 
 ' But then I may hope ? ' he said, eagerly 
 grasping her hand. 
 
 ' I promise nothing, for yo' must not even 
 have that excuse for speaking of this again, either 
 from anything I do, or may seem to do.' She 
 stopped, released her hand, as her eyes were 
 suddenly fixed on the distance. Then she said 
 with a slight smile, but without the least embar- 
 rassment or impatience : ' There's Mr. Champney 
 coming here now. I reckon he's looking to see if 
 that wreath is safe.' 
 
 G 2 
 
84 SALLY DOWS 
 
 Courtland looked up quickly. He could see 
 the straw hat of the young Englishman just above 
 the myrtle bushes in a path intersecting the 
 avenue. A faint shadow crossed his face. * Let 
 me know one thing more,' he said hurriedly. ' I 
 know I have no right to ask the question, but 
 has has has Mr. Champney anything to do with 
 your decision ? ' 
 
 She smiled brightly. ' Yo' asked just now if 
 yo' could have the same chance he and Ghet 
 Brooks had. Well, poor Chet is dead, and Mr. 
 Champney well ! wait and see.' She lifted her 
 voice and called : * Mr. Champney.' The young 
 fellow came briskly towards them ; his face betrayed 
 a slight surprise, but no discomfiture, as he recog- 
 nised her companion. 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Champney,' said Miss Sally, plain- 
 tively, ' I've lost my glove somewhere near pooah 
 Brooks's tomb in the hollow. Won't you go and 
 fetch it, and come back here to take me home ? 
 The co'nnle has got to go and see his sick niggers 
 in the hospital.' Champney lifted his hat, nodded 
 genially to Courtland, and disappeared below the 
 cypresses on the slope. ' Yo' mustn't be mad.,' 
 she said, turning in explanation to her companion, 
 ' but we have been here too long already, and it's 
 better that I should be seen coming home with 
 him than yo'.' 
 
SALLY DOWS 85 
 
 ' Then this sectional interference does not 
 touch him ? ' said Courtland bitterly. 
 
 ' No. He's an Englishman ; his father was a 
 known friend of the Confederacy, and bought 
 their cotton bonds.' 
 
 She stopped, gazing into Courtland's face with 
 a pretty vague impatience and a slight pouting of 
 her lip. 
 
 ' Co'nnle ! ' 
 
 ' Miss Sally.' 
 
 ' Yo' say yo' had known me for three years be- 
 fore yo' saw me. Well, we met once before we 
 ever spoke to each other ! ' 
 
 Courtland looked in her laughing eyes with 
 admiring wonder. ' When ? ' he asked. 
 
 ' The first day yo' came ! Yo' moved the 
 ladder when I was on the cornice, and I walked 
 all over yo' head. And, like a gentleman, yo' 
 never said a word about it. I reckon I stood on 
 yo' head for five minutes.' 
 
 ' Not as long as that,' said Courtland laughing, 
 ' if I remember rightly.' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Miss Sally with dancing eyes. * I, 
 a So'th'n girl, actually set my foot on the head of 
 a No'th'n scum of a co'nnle ! My ! ' 
 
 ' Let that satisfy your friends then.' 
 
 ' No ! / want to apologise. Sit down, 
 co'nnle.' 
 
86 
 
 SALLY DOWS 
 
 HE FELT THE SOFT TOUCH OF HER SMALL HANDS ON HIS 
 SHOULDERS 
 
SALLY DOWS 87 
 
 ' But, Miss Sally- 
 
 ' Sit down, quick ! ' 
 
 He did so, seating himself sideways on the 
 bank. Miss Sally stood beside him. 
 
 ' Take off yo' hat, sir.' 
 
 He obeyed smilingly. Miss Sally suddenly 
 slipped behind him. He felt the soft touch of her 
 small hands on his shoulders ; a warm breath 
 stirred the roots of his hair, and then the light 
 pressure on his scalp of what seemed the lips of a 
 child. 
 
 He leaped to his feet, yet before he could turn 
 completely round a difficulty the young lady had 
 evidently calculated upon he was too late ! The 
 floating draperies of the artful and shameless Miss 
 Sally were already disappearing among the tombs 
 in the direction of the hollow. 
 
 CHAPTER V , 
 
 THE house occupied by the manager of the Drum- 
 mond Syndicate in Redlands the former residence 
 of a local lawyer and justice of the peace was 
 not large, but had an imposing portico of wooden 
 Doric columns, which extended to the roof and 
 fronted the main street. The all-pervading 
 
88 SALLY DOWS 
 
 creeper closely covered it ; the sidewalk before it 
 was shaded by a row of broad-leaved ailantus. 
 The front room, with French windows opening 
 on the portico, was used by Colonel Courtland as 
 a general office ; beyond this a sitting-room and 
 dining-room overlooked the old-fashioned garden 
 with its detached kitchen and inevitable negro 
 cabin. It was a close evening ; there were dark 
 clouds coming up in the direction of the turnpike 
 road, but the leaves of the ailantus hung heavy 
 and motionless in the hush of an impending storm. 
 The sparks of lazily floating fireflies softly ex- 
 panded and went out in the gloom of the black 
 foliage, or in the dark recesses of the office, whose 
 windows were widely open, and whose lights 
 Courtland had extinguished when he brought his 
 armchair to the portico for coolness. One of 
 these sparks beyond the fence, although alternately 
 glowing and paling, was still so persistent and 
 stationary that Courtland leaned forward to watch 
 it more closely, at which it disappeared, and a 
 voice from the street said : 
 
 4 Is that you, Courtland ? ' 
 
 * Yes. Come in, won't you ? ' 
 
 The voice was Champney's, and the light was 
 from his cigar. As he opened the gate and came 
 slowly up the steps of the portico the usual hesita- 
 tion of his manner seemed to have increased. A 
 
SALLY DOWS 89 
 
 long sigh trilled the limp leaves of the ailantus and 
 as quickly subsided. A few heavy perpendicular 
 raindrops crashed and spattered through the 
 foliage like molten lead. 
 
 ' You've just escaped the shower,' said Court- 
 land pleasantly. He had not seen Champney 
 since they parted in the cemetery six weeks 
 before. 
 
 'Yes ! I I thought I'd like to have a little 
 talk with you, Courtland,' said Champney. He 
 hesitated a moment before the proffered chair, and 
 then added, with a cautious glance towards the 
 street, ' Hadn't we better go inside ? ' 
 
 ' As you like. But you'll find it wofully hot 
 We're quite alone here ; there's nobody in the 
 house, and this shower will drive any loungers 
 from the street.' He was quite frank, although 
 their relations to each other in regard to Miss 
 Sally were still so undefined as to scarcely invite 
 his confidence. 
 
 Howbeit Champney took the proffered chair 
 and the glass of julep which Courtland brought 
 him. 
 
 * You remember my speaking to you of 
 Dumont ? ' he said hesitatingly, ' Miss Dows's 
 French cousin, you know ? Well he's coming 
 here : he's got property here those three houses 
 opposite the Court House. From what I hear, 
 
90 SALLY DOWS 
 
 he's come over with a lot of new-fangled French 
 ideas on the nigger question rot about equality 
 and fraternity, don't you know and the highest 
 education and highest offices for them. You know 
 what the feeling is here already ? You know 
 what happened at the last election at Coolidgeville 
 how the whites wouldn't let the niggers go to 
 the polls and the jolly row that was kicked up over 
 it ? Well, it looks as if that sort of thing might 
 happen here, don't you know, if Miss Dows takes 
 up these ideas.' 
 
 1 But I've reason to suppose I mean,' said 
 Courtland correcting himself with some delibera- 
 tion ' that any one who knows Miss Dows's 
 opinions knows that these are not her views. 
 Why should she take them up ? ' 
 
 * Because she takes him up,' returned 
 Champney hurriedly ; ' and even if she didn't 
 believe in them herself, she'd have to share the 
 responsibility with him in the eyes of every un- 
 reconstructed rowdy like Tom Higbee and the rest 
 of them. They'd make short work of her niggers 
 all the same.' 
 
 ' But I don't see why she should be made re- 
 sponsible for the opinions of her cousin, nor do 
 I exactly know what " taking him up " means,' 
 returned Courtland quietly. 
 
 Champney moistened his dry lips with the 
 
SALLY DOWS 91 
 
 julep and uttered a nervous laugh. ' Suppose we 
 say her husband for that's what his coming back 
 here means. Everybody knows that ; you would, 
 too, if you ever talked with her about anything 
 but business! 
 
 A bright flash of lightning that lit up the faces 
 of the two men would have revealed Champney's 
 flushed features and Courtland's lack of colour had 
 they been looking at each other. But they were 
 not, and the long reverberating crash of thunder 
 which followed prevented any audible reply from 
 Courtland, and covered his agitation. 
 
 For without fully accepting Champney's con- 
 clusions he was cruelly shocked at the young man's 
 utterance of them. He had scrupulously respected 
 the wishes of Miss Sally and had faithfully 
 although never hopelessly held back any ex- 
 pression of his own love since their conversation 
 in the cemetery. But while his native truthfulness 
 and sense of honour had overlooked the seeming 
 insincerity of her attitude towards Champney, he 
 had never justified his own tacit participation in it, 
 and the concealment of his own pretensions before 
 his possible rival. It was true that she had for- 
 bidden him to openly enter the lists with her 
 admirers, but Champney's innocent assumption of 
 his indifference to her and his consequent half 
 confidences added poignancy to his story. There 
 
92 SALLY DOWS 
 
 seemed to be only one way to extricate himself, 
 and that was by a quarrel. Whether he did or 
 did not believe Champney's story, whether it was 
 only the jealous exaggeration of a rival, or Miss 
 Sally was actually deceiving them both, his posi- 
 tion had become intolerable. 
 
 * I must remind you, Champney,' he said, 
 with freezing deliberation, ' that Miss Miranda 
 Dows and her niece now represent the Drummond 
 Company equally with myself, and that you can- 
 not expect me to listen to any reflections upon the 
 way they choose to administer their part in its 
 affairs, either now, or to come. Still less do I care 
 to discuss the idle gossip which can affect only 
 the private interests of these ladies, with which 
 neither you nor I have any right to interfere.' 
 
 But the ncuvettvi the young Englishman was 
 as invincible as Miss Sally's own, and as fatal to 
 Courtland's attitude. ' Of course I haven't any 
 right, you know,' he said, calmly ignoring the 
 severe preamble of his companion's speech, ' but 
 I say ! hang it all ! even if a fellow has no chance 
 himself, he don't like to see a girl throw herself 
 and her property away on a man like that.' 
 
 ( One moment, Champney,' said Courtland, 
 under the infection of his guest's simplicity, 
 abandoning his former superior attitude. ' You 
 say you have no chance. Do you want me to 
 
SALLY BOWS 93 
 
 understand that you are regularly a suitor of Miss 
 Dows ? ' 
 
 ' Y-e-e-s,' said the young fellow, but with the 
 hesitation of conscientiousness rather than evasion. 
 * That is you know I was. But don't you see, it 
 couldn't be. It wouldn't do, you know. If those 
 clannish neighbours of hers that Southern set 
 suspected that Miss Sally was courted by an Eng- 
 lishman, don't you know a poacher on their pre- 
 serves it would be all up with her position on 
 the property and her influence over them. I don't 
 mind telling you that's one reason why I left the 
 Company and took that other plantation. But 
 even that didn't work ; they had their suspicions 
 excited already.' 
 
 1 Did Miss Dows give that as a reason for 
 declining your suit ? ' asked Courtland, slowly. 
 
 * Yes. You know what a straightforward 
 girl she is. She didn't come no rot about "not 
 expecting anything of the kind," or about " being a 
 sister to me," and all that, for, by Jove ! she's 
 always more like a fellow's sister, don't you know, 
 than his girl. Of course it was hard lines for me, 
 but I suppose she was about right.' He stopped, 
 and then added with a kind of gentle persistency : 
 ' You think she was about right, don't you ? ' 
 
 With what was passing in Courtland's mind 
 the question seemed so bitterly ironical that at first 
 
94 SALLY DOWS 
 
 he leaned half angrily forward, in an unconscious 
 attempt to catch the speaker's expression in the 
 darkness. * I should hardly venture to give an 
 opinion,' he said, after a pause. ' Miss Dows's 
 relations with her neighbours are so very peculiar. 
 And from what you tell me of her cousin it would 
 seem that her desire to placate them is not always 
 to be depended upon.' 
 
 ' I'm not finding fault with her, you know,' 
 said Champney hastily. ' I'm not such a beastly 
 cad as that ; I wouldn't have spoken of my affairs 
 at all, but you asked, you know. I only thought, 
 if she was going to get herself into trouble on 
 account of that Frenchman, you might talk to her 
 she'd listen to you, because she'd know you only 
 did it out of business reasons. And they're really 
 business reasons, you know. I suppose you don't 
 think much of my business capacity, colonel, and 
 you wouldn't go much on my judgment espe- 
 cially now ; but I've been here longer than you 
 and ' he lowered his voice slightly and dragged 
 his chair nearer Courtland ' I don't like the looks 
 of things here. There's some devilment plotting 
 among those rascals. They're only awaiting an 
 opportunity ; a single flash would be enough to 
 set them in a blaze, even if the fire wasn't lit 
 and smouldering already like a spark in a bale of 
 cotton. I'd cut the whole thing and clear out if I 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 95 
 
 ' YOU'RE A GOOD FELLOW, CHAMPNEY,' SAID COURTLAND 
 
96 SALLY DOWS 
 
 didn't think it would make it harder for Miss Dows, 
 who would be left alone.' 
 
 ' You're a good fellow, Champney,' said Court- 
 land, laying his hand on the young man's shoulder 
 with a sudden impulse, ' and I forgive you for over- 
 looking any concern that / might have. Indeed,' 
 he added, with an odd seriousness and a half sigh, 
 ' it's not strange that you should. But I must re- 
 mind you that the Dowses are strictly the agents and 
 tenants of the company I represent, and that their 
 rights and property under that tenancy shall not 
 be interfered with by others as long as I am here. 
 I have no right, however,' he added gravely, ' to 
 keep Miss Dows from imperilling them by her 
 social relations.' 
 
 Champney rose and shook hands with him 
 awkwardly. ' The shower seems to be holding up,' 
 he said, ' and I'll toddle along before it starts afresh. 
 Good-night ! I say you didn't mind my coming 
 to you this way, did you ? By Jove ! I thought 
 you were a little stand-offish at first. But you 
 know what I meant ? ' 
 
 ' Perfectly, and I thank you.' They shook 
 hands again. Champney stepped from the portico, 
 and, reaching the gate, seemed to vanish as he 
 had come, out of the darkness. 
 
 The storm was not yet over ; the air had again 
 become close and suffocating. Courtland remained 
 
SALLY DOWS 97 
 
 brooding in his chair. Whether he could accept 
 Champney's news as true or not, he felt that he 
 must end this suspense at once. A half guilty 
 consciousness that he was thinking more of it in 
 reference to his own passion than his duty to the 
 company did not render his meditations less 
 unpleasant. Yet while he could not reconcile 
 Miss Sally's confidences in the cemetery con- 
 cerning the indifference of her people to Champ- 
 ney's attentions with what Champney had just 
 told him of the reasons she had given hint for 
 declining them, I am afraid he was not shocked 
 by her peculiar ethics. A lover seldom finds fault 
 with his mistress for deceiving his rival, and is as 
 little apt to consider the logical deduction that she 
 could deceive him also, as Othello was to accept 
 Brabantio's warning. The masculine sense of 
 honour which might have resented the friendship 
 of a man capable of such treachery did not hesi- 
 tate to accept the love of a woman under the same 
 conditions. Perhaps there was an implied com- 
 pliment in thus allowing her to take the sole ethical 
 responsibility, which few women would resist. 
 
 In the midst of this gloomy abstraction Court- 
 land suddenly raised his head and listened. 
 
 1 Cato.' 
 
 4 Yes, sah.' 
 
 There was a sound of heavy footsteps in the 
 
 H 
 
98 SALLY DOWS 
 
 hall coming from the rear of the house, and 
 presently a darker bulk appeared in the shadowed 
 doorway. It was his principal overseer a strong 
 and superior negro, selected by his fellow-freed- 
 men from among their number in accordance with 
 Courtland' s new regime. 
 
 ' Did you come here from the plantation or the 
 town ? ' 
 
 * The town, sah.' 
 
 ' I think you had better keep out of the town 
 in the evenings for the present,' said Courtland in 
 a tone of quiet but positive authority. 
 
 4 Are dey goin' to bring back de ole " patter 
 rollers," 1 sah ? ' asked the man with a slight sneer. 
 
 ' I don't know,' returned Courtland, calmly, 
 ignoring his overseer's manner. ' But if they did 
 you must comply with the local regulations unless 
 they conflict with the Federal laws, when you 
 must appeal to the Federal authorities. I prefer 
 you should avoid any trouble until you are sure.' 
 
 ' I reckon they won't try any games on me,' 
 said the negro with a short laugh. 
 
 Courtland looked at him intently. 
 
 * I thought as much ! You're carrying arms, 
 Cato ! Hand them over.' 
 
 The overseer hesitated for a moment, and 
 
 1 I.e. the ' patrol ' or local police, who formerly had the surveil- 
 lance of slaves. 
 
SALLY DOIVS 99 
 
 then unstrapped a revolver from his belt, and 
 handed it to Courtland. 
 
 ' Now how many of you are in the habit of 
 going round the town armed like this ? ' 
 
 ' Only de men who've been insulted, sah.' 
 
 ' And how have you been insulted ? ' 
 
 ' Marse Tom Higbee down in de market 
 reckoned it was high time fancy niggers was drov 
 into de swamp, and I allowed that loafers and 
 beggars had better roost high when workin' folks 
 was around, and Marse Tom said he'd cut my 
 haht out.' 
 
 ' And do you think your carrying a revolver 
 will prevent him and his friends performing that 
 operation if you provoked them ? ' 
 
 ' You said we was to pertect ourseffs, sah,' 
 returned the negro gloomily. * What foh den did 
 you drill us to use dem rifles in de armoury ? ' 
 
 ' To defend yourselves together under orders 
 if attacked, not to singly threaten with them in 
 a street row. Together, you would stand some 
 chance against those men ; separately they could 
 eat you up, Cato.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't trust too much to some of dem 
 niggers standing together, sah,' said Cato darkly. 
 * Dey'd run before de old masters if they didn't 
 run to 'em. Shuah ! ' 
 
 A fear of this kind had crossed Courtland's 
 
 H 2 
 
zoo SALLY DOWS 
 
 mind before, but he made no present comment. 
 ' I found two of the armoury rifles in the men's 
 cabins yesterday,' he resumed quietly. ' See that 
 it does not occur again ! They must not be taken 
 from the armoury except to defend it.' 
 
 'Yes, sah.' 
 
 There was a moment of silence. Then it was 
 broken by a sudden gust that swept through the 
 columns of the portico, stirring the vines, The 
 broad leaves of the ailantus began to rustle ; ' an 
 ominous pattering followed ; the rain had recom- 
 menced. And as Courtland rose and walked 
 towards the open window its blank panes and the 
 interior of the office were suddenly illuminated by 
 a gleam of returning lightning. . 
 
 He entered the office, bidding Cato follow, and 
 lit the lamp above his desk. The negro remained 
 standing gloomily but respectfully by the window. 
 
 * Cato, do you know anything of Mr. Dumont 
 Miss Dows's cousin ? ' 
 
 The negro's white teeth suddenly flashed in 
 the lamplight. ' Ya ! ha ! I reckon, sah.' 
 
 'Then he's a great friend of your people ?' 
 
 * I don't know about dat, sah. But he's a 
 pow'ful enemy of de Reeds and de Higbees!' 
 
 1 On account of his views, of course ? ' 
 ' 'Deed no !' said Cato with an astounded air. 
 'Jess on account of de vendetta \ ' 
 
SALLY DOIVS 101 
 
 1 The vendetta ? ' 
 
 ' Yes, sah. De old blood quo'll of de families. 
 It's been goin' on over fifty years, sah. De gran- 
 fader, fader, and brudder of de Higbees was killed 
 by de granfader, fader, and brudder of de Doo- 
 monts. De Reeds chipped in when all de Higbees 
 was played out, fo' dey was relations, but dey 
 was chawed up by some of de Dowses, first cousins 
 to de Doomonts.' 
 
 ' What ? Are the Dows in this vendetta ?' 
 
 1 No, sah. No mo'. Dey's bin no man in 
 de family since Miss Sally's fader died dat's let 
 de Dows out fo' ever. De las' shootin' was done 
 by Marse George Doomont, who crippled Marse 
 Tom Higbee's brudder Jo, and den skipped to 
 Europe. Dey say he's come back, and is lying 
 low over at Atalanty. Dar'll be lively times ef he 
 comes here to see Miss Sally.' 
 
 * But he may have changed his ideas while 
 living abroad, where this sort of thing is simple 
 murder.' 
 
 The negro shook his head grimly. ' Den he 
 wouldn't come, sah. No, sah. He knows dat 
 Tom Higbee's bound to go fo' him or leave de 
 place, and Marse George wouldn't mind settlin' 
 him too as well as his brudder, for de scores is 
 agin' de Doomonts yet. And Marse George ain't 
 no slouch wid a scatter gun.' 
 
102 SALLY DOIVS 
 
 At any other time the imminence of this 
 survival of a lawless barbarism of which he had 
 heard so much would have impressed Courtland, 
 now he was only interested in it on account of the 
 inconceivable position in which it left Miss Sally- 
 Had she anything to do with this baleful cousin's 
 return, or was she only to be a helpless victim of it ? 
 
 A white, dazzling, and bewildering flash of 
 lightning suddenly lit up the room, the porch, the 
 dripping ailantus, and the flooded street beyond. 
 It was followed presently by a crash of thunder, 
 with what seemed to be a second fainter flash 
 of lightning, or rather as if the first flash had 
 suddenly ignited some inflammable substance. 
 With the long reverberation of the thunder still 
 shaking the house, Courtland slipped quickly out of 
 the window and passed down to the gate. 
 
 ' Did it strike anything, sah ? ' said the startled 
 negro, as Courtland returned. 
 
 * Not that I can see,' said his employer shortly. 
 * Go inside, and call Zoe and her daughter from 
 the cabin and bring them in the hall. Stay till I 
 come. Go! I'll shut the windows myself.' 
 
 * It must have struck somewhere, sah, shuah ! 
 Deh's a pow'ful smell of sulphur right here,' said 
 the negro as he left the room. 
 
 Courtland thought so too, but it was a kind of 
 sulphur that he had smelt before on the battle 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 103 
 
 THERE WAS THE DISTINCT HOLE MADE BY A BULLET 
 
104 SALLY DOWS 
 
 field ! For when the door was closed behind his 
 overseer he took the lamp to the opposite wall and 
 examined it carefully. There was the distinct 
 hole made by a bullet which had missed Cato's 
 head at the open window by an inch. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 IN an instant Courtland had regained complete 
 possession of himself. His distracting passion 
 how distracting he had never before realised was 
 gone ! His clear sight no longer distorted by 
 sentiment had come back ; he saw everything in 
 its just proportion his duty, the plantation, the 
 helpless freedman threatened by lawless fury ; the 
 two women no longer his one tantalising vision, 
 but now only a passing detail of the work before 
 him. He saw them through no aberrating mist 
 of tenderness or expediency but with the single 
 directness of the man of action. 
 
 The shot had clearly been intended for Cato. 
 Even if it were an act of mere personal revenge, 
 it showed a confidence and security in the would- 
 be assassin that betokened co-operation and an 
 organised plan. He had availed himself of the 
 thunder-storm, the flash and long reverberating 
 roll of sound an artifice not unknown to border 
 
SALLY DOWS 105 
 
 ambush to confuse discovery at the instant. Yet 
 the attack might be only an isolated one ; or it 
 might be the beginning of a general raid upon the 
 Syndicate's freedmen. If the former, he could 
 protect Cato from its repetition by guarding him 
 in the office until he could be conveyed to a place 
 of safety ; if the latter, he must at once collect 
 the negroes at their quarters, and take Cato with 
 him. He resolved upon the latter course. The 
 quarters were half a mile from the Dows' dwelling 
 which was two miles away. 
 
 He sat down and wrote a few lines to Miss 
 Dows stating that, in view of some threatened 
 disturbances in the town, he thought it advisable 
 to keep the negroes in their quarters, whither he 
 was himself going. He sent her his housekeeper 
 and the child, as they had both better remain in a 
 place of security until he returned to town. He 
 gave the note to Zoe, bidding her hasten by the 
 back garden across the fields. Then he turned to 
 Cato. 
 
 ' I am going with you to the quarters to-night,' 
 he said quietly, * and you can carry your pistol 
 back to the armoury yourself.' He handed him 
 the weapon. The negro received it gratefully, 
 but suddenly cast a searching glance at his 
 employer. Courtland's face, however, betrayed 
 no change. When Zoe had gone, he continued 
 
io6 SALLY DOIVS 
 
 tranquilly, ' We will go by the back way through 
 the woods.' As the negro started slightly, 
 Courtland continued in the same even tone : ' The 
 sulphur you smelt just now, Cato, was the smoke 
 of a gun fired at you from the street. I don't 
 propose that the shot shall be repeated under the 
 same advantages.' 
 
 The negro became violently agitated. ' It 
 was clat sneakin' hound Tom Higbee,' he said 
 huskily. 
 
 Courtland looked at him sharply. ' Then 
 there was something more than words passed 
 between him and you, Cato. What happened ? 
 Come, speak out ! ' 
 
 ' He lashed me with his whip, and I gib him 
 one right under the yeah, and drupped him,' said 
 Cato, recovering his courage with his anger at the 
 recollection. ' I had a right to defend myself, 
 sah.' 
 
 ' Yes, and I hope you'll be able to do it now,' 
 said Courtland calmly, his face giving no sign of 
 his conviction that Cato's fate was doomed by that 
 single retaliating blow. ' But you'll be safer at the 
 quarters.' He passed into his bedroom, took a 
 revolver from his bedhead and a derringer from the 
 drawer, both of which he quickly slipped beneath 
 his buttoned coat, and returned. 
 
 * When we are in the fields, clear of the house, 
 
SALLY DOWS 107 
 
 keep close by my side, and even try to keep step 
 with me. What you have to say, say now ; there 
 must be no talking to betray our position we 
 must go silently, and you'll have enough to do to 
 exercise your eyes and ears. I shall stand be- 
 tween you and any attack, but I expect you to 
 obey orders without hesitation.' He opened 
 the back door, motioned to Cato to pass out, 
 followed him, locked the door behind them, and 
 taking the negro's arm walked beside the low 
 palings to the end of the garden, where they 
 climbed the fence and stood upon the open field 
 beyond. 
 
 Unfortunately, it had grown lighter with the 
 breaking of the heavy clouds, and gusty gleams of 
 moonlight chased each other over the field, or 
 struck a glitter from standing rain-pools between 
 the little hillocks. To cross the open field and 
 gain the fringe of woods on the other side was the 
 nearest way to the quarters, but for the moment 
 was the most exposed course ; to follow the hedge 
 to the bottom of the field and the boundary fence 
 and then cross at right angles, in its shadow, 
 would be safer, but they would lose valuable time. 
 Believing that Cato's vengeful assailant was still 
 hovering near with his comrades, Courtland cast 
 a quick glance down the shadowy line of Osage 
 hedge beside them. Suddenly Cato grasped his 
 
io8 SALLY DOWS 
 
 arm and pointed in the same direction, where the 
 boundary fence he had noticed a barrier of rough 
 palings crossed the field. With the moon low on 
 the other side of it, it was a mere black silhouette, 
 broken only by bright silver openings and gaps 
 along its surface that indicated the moonlit field 
 beyond. At first Courtland saw nothing else. 
 Then he was struck by the fact that these open- 
 ings became successively and regularly eclipsed^ 
 as with the passing of some opaque object behind 
 them. It was a file of men on the other side of 
 the fence, keeping in its shelter as they crossed 
 the field towards his house. Roughly calculating 
 from the passing obscurations, there must have 
 been twelve or fifteen in all. 
 
 He could no longer doubt their combined in- 
 tentions, nor hesitate how to meet them. He 
 must at once make for the quarters with Cato, 
 even if he had to cross that open field before them. 
 He knew that they would avoid injuring him 
 personally, in the fear of possible Federal and 
 political complications, and he resolved to use that 
 fear to ensure Cato's safety. Placing his hands 
 on the negro's shoulders, he shoved him forwards, 
 falling into a ' lock step ' so close behind him that it 
 became impossible for the most expert marksman 
 to fire at one without imperilling the other's life. 
 When half way across the field he noticed that the 
 
SALLY DOIVS 109 
 
 shadows seen though the openings of the fence 
 had paused. The ambushed men had evidently 
 seen the double apparition, understood it, and, as 
 he expected, dared not fire. He reached the 
 other side with Cato in safety, but not before he 
 saw the fateful shadows again moving, and this 
 time in their own direction. They were evidently 
 intending to pursue them. But once within the 
 woods Courtland knew that his chances were 
 equal. He breathed more freely. Cato, now less 
 agitated, had even regained something of his 
 former emotional combativeness which Courtland 
 had checked. Although far from confident of his 
 henchman's prowess in an emergency, the pros- 
 pect of getting him safe into the quarters seemed 
 brighter. 
 
 It was necessary also to trust to his superior 
 wood-craft and knowledge of the locality, and 
 Courtland still walking between him and his 
 pursuers and covering his retreat allowed him to 
 lead the way. It lay over ground that was be- 
 ginning to slope gently ; the underbrush was 
 presently exchanged for springy moss, the 
 character of the trees changed, the black trunks 
 of cypresses made the gloom thicker. Trailing 
 vines and parasites brushed their faces, a current 
 of damp air seemed to flow just above the soil in 
 which their lower limbs moved sluggishly as 
 
i io SALLY DOWS 
 
 through stagnant water. As yet there was no in- 
 dication of pursuit. But Courtland felt that it was 
 not abandoned. Indeed, he had barely time to 
 check an exclamation from the negro, before the 
 dull gallop of horse-hoofs in the open ahead of 
 them was plain to them both. It was a second 
 party of their pursuers, mounted, who had evidently 
 been sent to prevent their final egress from the 
 woods, while those they had just evaded were no 
 doubt slowly and silently following them on foot. 
 They were to be caught between two fires ! 
 
 ' What is there to the left of us ? ' whispered 
 Courtland quickly. 
 
 ' De swamp.' 
 
 Courtland set his teeth together. His dull- 
 witted companion had evidently walked them both 
 into the trap ! Nevertheless, his resolve was 
 quickly made. He could already see through the 
 thinning fringe of timber the figures of the 
 mounted men in the moonlight. 
 
 ' This should be the boundary line of the 
 plantation ? This field beside us is ours ? ' he 
 said, interrogatively. 
 
 ' Yes,' returned the negro, ' but de quarters is 
 a mile furder.' 
 
 * Good ! Stay here until I come back or call 
 you ; I'm going to talk to these fellows. But if 
 you value your life don't you speak nor stir.' 
 
SALLY DOWS in 
 
 He strode quickly through the intervening 
 trees and stepped out into the moonlight. A 
 suppressed shout greeted him, and half a dozen 
 mounted men, masked and carrying rifles, rode 
 down towards him, but he remained quietly wait- 
 ing there, and as the nearest approached him, he 
 made a step forward and cried ' Halt ! ' 
 
 The men pulled up sharply and mechanically 
 at that ring of military imperiousness. 
 
 * What are you doing here ? ' said Courtland. 
 
 ' We reckon that's our business, co'nnle.' 
 
 'It's mine, when you're on property that I 
 control.' 
 
 The man hesitated and looked interrogatively 
 towards his fellows. * I allow you've got us there, 
 co'nnle,' he said at last with the lazy insolence of 
 conscious power, ' but I don't mind telling you 
 we're wanting a nigger about the size of your 
 Cato. We hain't got anything agin you, co'nnle ; 
 we don't want to interfere with your property, 
 and your ways, but we don't calculate to have 
 strangers interfere with our ways and our cus- 
 toms. Trot out your nigger you No'th'n folks 
 don't call him " property," you know and we'll 
 clear off your land.' 
 
 ' And may I ask what you want of Cato ? ' said 
 Courtland quietly. 
 
 ' To show him that all the Federal law in 
 
ii2 SALLY DOWS 
 
 h 11 won't protect him when he strikes a white 
 man ! ' burst out one of the masked figures* 
 riding forward. 
 
 1 Then you compel me to show you,' said 
 Courtland, immovably, ' what any Federal citizen 
 may do in the defence of Federal law. For I'll 
 kill the first man that attempts to lay hands upon 
 him on my property. Some of you, who have 
 already tried to assassinate him in cold blood, I 
 have met before in less dishonourable warfare 
 than this, and they know I am able to keep my 
 word.' 
 
 There was a moment's silence ; the barrel of 
 the revolver he was holding at his side glistened 
 for an instant in the moonlight, but he did not 
 move. The two men rode up to the first speaker 
 and exchanged words. A light laugh followed, 
 and the first speaker turned again to Courtland 
 with a mocking politeness. 
 
 * Very well, co'nnle, if that's your opinion, and 
 you allow we can't follow our game over your 
 property, why we reckon we'll have to give way 
 to those who can. Sorry to have troubled you. 
 Good-night.' 
 
 He lifted his hat ironically, waved it to his 
 followers, and the next moment the whole party 
 were galloping furiously towards the high road. 
 
 For the first time that evening a nervous sense 
 
SALLY DOWS 113 
 
 of apprehension passed over Courtland. The im- 
 pending of some unknown danger is always more 
 terrible to a brave man than the most overwhelm- 
 ing odds that he can see and realise. He felt 
 instinctively that they had uttered no vague 
 bravado to cover up their defeat ; there was still 
 some advantage on which they confidently 
 reckoned but what ? Was it only a reference 
 to the other party tracking them through the 
 woods on which their enemies now solely relied ? 
 He regained Cato quickly ; the white teeth of the 
 foolishly confident negro were already flashing 
 his imagined triumph to his employer. Court- 
 land's heart grew sick as he saw it. 
 
 ' We're not out of the woods yet, Cato,' he 
 said drily ' nor are they. Keep your eyes and 
 ears open, and attend to me. How long can we 
 keep in the cover of these woods, and still push 
 on in the direction of the quarters ? ' 
 
 * There's a way roun' de edge o' de swamp, 
 sah, but we'd have to go back a spell to find 
 it.' 
 
 ' Go on ! ' 
 
 ' And dar's moccasins and copperheads lying 
 round here in de trail ! Dey don't go for us 
 ginerally but,' he hesitated, 'white men don't 
 stand much show.' 
 
 ' Good ! Then it is as bad for those who are 
 
ri4 SALLY DOWS 
 
 chasing us, as for me. That will do. Lead 
 on.' 
 
 They retraced their steps cautiously, until the 
 negro turned into a lighter by-way. A strange 
 mephitic odour seemed to come from sodden 
 leaves and mosses that began to ooze under their 
 feet. They had picked their way in silence for 
 some minutes ; the stunted willows and cypress 
 standing further and further apart, and the open- 
 ings with clumps of sedge were frequent. Court- 
 land was beginning to fear this exposure of his 
 follower, and had moved up beside him, when 
 suddenly the negro caught his arm, and trembled 
 violently. His lips were parted over his teeth, 
 the whites of his eyes glistened, he seemed 
 gasping and speechless with fear 
 
 1 What's the matter, Cato ? ' said Courtland, 
 glancing instinctively at the ground beneath 
 ' Speak, man ! have you been bitten ? ' 
 
 The word seemed to wring an agonised cry 
 from the miserable man. 
 
 ' Bitten ! No ; but don't you hear 'em coming, 
 sah ! God Almighty ! don't you hear dat ? ' 
 
 ' What ! ' 
 
 ' De dogs ! de houns ! de bloodhouns ! 
 Dey've set 'em loose on me ! ' 
 
 It was true ! A faint baying in the distance 
 was now distinctly audible to Courtland. He 
 
SALLY DOIVS 115 
 
 knew now plainly the full, cruel purport of the 
 leader's speech, ' Those who could go anywhere 
 were tracking their game ! ' 
 
 Every trace of manhood had vanished from 
 the negro's cowering frame. Courtland laid his 
 hand assuringly appealingly, and then savagely 
 on his shoulder. 
 
 ' Come ! Enough of this ! I am here, and 
 will stand by you whatever comes. These dogs 
 are no more to be feared than the others. Rouse 
 yourself, man, and at least help me make a fight 
 of it.' 
 
 * No ! no ! ' screamed the terrified man. 
 4 Lemme go ! Lemme go back to de Massas ! 
 Tell 'em I'll come ! Tell 'em to call de houns off 
 me, and I'll go quiet ! Lemme go ! ' He struggled 
 violently in his companion's grasp. 
 
 In all Courtland's self-control, habits of cool- 
 ness and discipline, it is to be feared there was 
 still something of the old Berserker temper. His 
 face was white, his eyes blazed in the darkness ; 
 only his voice kept that level distinctness which 
 made it for a moment more terrible than even the 
 baying of the tracking hounds to the negro's ear. 
 ' Cato,' he said, ' attempt to run now, and, by God ! 
 I'll save the dogs the trouble of grappling your 
 living carcase ! Corne here ! Up that tree with 
 you ! ' pointing to a swamp magnolia * Don't 
 
 I 2 
 
n6 
 
 ' NO ! NO ! ' SCREAMED THE TERRIFIED MAN 
 
 move as long as I can stand here, and when I'm 
 down but not till then save yourself the best 
 you can.' 
 
SALLY DOWS 117 
 
 He half-helped, half-dragged, the now passive 
 African to the solitary tree ; as the bay of a single 
 hound came nearer, the negro convulsively 
 scrambled from Courtland's knee and shoulder 
 to the fork of branches a dozen feet from the 
 ground. Courtland drew his revolver, and, step- 
 ping back a few yards into the open, awaited the 
 attack. 
 
 It came unexpectedly from behind. A sudden 
 yelp of panting cruelty and frenzied anticipation 
 at Courtland's back, caused him to change front 
 quickly, and the dripping fangs and snaky boa- 
 like neck of a grey weird shadow passed him. 
 With an awful supernaturalness of instinct, it kept 
 on in an unerring line to the fateful tree. But that 
 dread directness of scent was Courtland's oppor- 
 tunity. His revolver flashed out in an aim as un- 
 erring. The brute, pierced through neck and 
 brain, dashed on against the tree in his impetus, 
 and then rolled over against it in a quivering bulk. 
 Again another bay coming from the same direction 
 told Courtland that his pursuers had outflanked 
 him, and the whole pack were crossing the swamp. 
 But he was prepared ; again the same weird 
 shadow, as spectral and monstrous as a dream, 
 dashed out into the brief light of the open, but 
 this time it was stopped, and rolled over con- 
 vulsively before it had crossed. Flushed, with 
 
n8 SALLY DOWS 
 
 the fire of fight in his veins, Courtland turned 
 almost furiously from the fallen brutes at his feet 
 to meet the onset of the more cowardly hunters 
 whom he knew were at his heels. At that moment 
 it would have fared ill with the foremost. No 
 longer the calculating steward and diplomatic 
 manager, no longer the cool-headed arbiter of 
 conflicting interests, he was ready to meet them, 
 not only with the intrepid instincts of a soldier, 
 but with an aroused partisan fury equal to their 
 own. To his surprise no one followed ; the baying 
 of a third hound seemed to be silenced and checked ; 
 the silence was broken only by the sound of distant 
 disputing voices, and the uneasy trampling of hoofs. 
 This was followed by two or three rifle shots in the 
 distance, but not either in the direction of the 
 quarters nor the Dows' dwelling house. There 
 evidently was some interruption in the pursuit 
 a diversion of some kind had taken place but 
 what he knew not. He could think of no one 
 who might have interfered on his behalf, and the 
 shouting and wrangling seemed to be carried on 
 in the accents of the one sectional party. He 
 called cautiously to Cato. The negro did not 
 reply. He crossed to the tree and shook it 
 impatiently. Its boughs were empty ; Cato was 
 gone ! The miserable negro must have taken ad- 
 vantage of the first diversion in his favour to 
 
SALLY DOWS 119 
 
 escape. But where, and how, there was nothing 
 left to indicate. 
 
 As Courtland had taken little note of the trail, 
 he had no idea of his own whereabouts. He 
 knew he must return to the fringe of cypress to be 
 able to cross the open field and gain the negro 
 quarters where it was still possible that Cato had 
 fled. Taking a general direction from the few 
 stars visible above the opening, he began to retrace 
 his steps. But he had no longer the negro's 
 woodcraft to guide him. At times his feet were 
 caught in trailing vines which seemed to coil 
 around his ankles with ominous suggestiveness ; 
 at times the yielding soil beneath his tread showed 
 his perilous proximity to the swamp, as well as 
 the fact that he was beginning to incline towards 
 that dread circle which is the hopeless instinct of 
 all lost and straying humanity. Luckily the edge 
 of the swamp was more open, and he would be 
 enabled to correct his changed course again by 
 the position of the stars. But he was becoming 
 chilled and exhausted by these fruitless efforts, 
 and at length, after a more devious and prolonged 
 detour, which brought him back to the swamp 
 again, he resolved to skirt its edge in search of 
 some other mode of issuance. Beyond him, the 
 light seemed stronger as of a more extended 
 opening or clearing, and there was even a super- 
 
120 SALLY DOWS 
 
 ficial gleam from the end of the swamp itself, as if 
 from some ignis fatuus or the glancing of a pool 
 of unbroken water. A few rods farther brought 
 him to it and a full view of the unencumbered ex- 
 panse. Beyond him, far across the swamp, he 
 could see a hillside bathed in the moonlight with 
 symmetrical lines of small white squares dotting 
 its slopes and stretching down into a valley of 
 gleaming shafts, pyramids, and tombs. It was 
 the cemetery ; the white squares on the hillside 
 were the soldiers' graves. And among them even 
 at that distance, uplifting solemnly, like a reproach- 
 ful phantom, was the broken shaft above the dust 
 of Chester Brooks. 
 
 With the view of that fateful spot which he 
 had not seen since his last meeting there with 
 Sally Dows, a flood of recollection rushed upon 
 him. In the white mist that hung low along the 
 further edge of the swamp he fancied he could see 
 again the battery smoke through which the ghostly 
 figure of the dead rider had charged his gun three 
 years before ; in the vapoury white plumes of a 
 funereal plant in the long avenue he was reminded 
 of the light figure of Miss Sally as she appeared 
 at their last meeting. In another moment, in his 
 already dazed condition, he might have succumbed 
 to some sensuous memory of her former fascina- 
 tions, but he threw it off savagely now, with a 
 
SALLY DOWS 121 
 
 quick and bitter recalling of her deceit and his 
 own weakness. Turning his back upon the scene 
 with a half superstitious tremor, he plunged once 
 more into the trackless covert. But he was 
 conscious that his eyesight was gradually growing 
 dim and his strength failing. He was obliged 
 from time to time to stop and rally his sluggish 
 senses, that seemed to grow heavier under some 
 deadly exhalation that flowed around him. He 
 even seemed to hear familiar voices but that must 
 be delusion. At last he stumbled. Throwing out 
 an arm to protect himself, he came heavily down 
 upon the ooze, striking a dull, half-elastic root 
 that seemed it must have been another delusion 
 to move beneath him, and even so confused 
 were his senses now to strike back angrily upon 
 his prostrate arm. A sharp pain ran from his 
 elbow to shoulder and for a moment stung him 
 to full consciousness again. There were voices 
 surely the voices of their former pursuers ! If 
 they were seeking to revenge themselves upon 
 him for Cato's escape, he was ready for them. 
 He cocked his revolver and stood erect. A torch 
 flashed through the wood. But even at that 
 moment a film came over his eyes ; he staggered 
 and fell. 
 
 An interval of helpless semi-consciousness 
 ensued. He felt himself lifted by strong arms and 
 
122 SALLY DOWS 
 
 carried forward, his arm hanging uselessly at his 
 side. The dank odour of the wood was presently 
 exchanged for the free air of the open field ; the 
 flaming pine-knot torches were extinguished in the 
 bright moonlight. People pressed around him, but 
 so indistinctly he could not recognise them. All 
 his consciousness seemed centred in the burning, 
 throbbing pain of his arm. He felt himself laid 
 upon the gravel ; the sleeve cut from his shoulder, 
 the cool sensation of the hot and bursting skin 
 bared to the night air, and then a soft, cool, and 
 indescribable pressure upon a wound he had not 
 felt before. A voice followed high, lazily petu- 
 lant, and familiar to him, and yet one he strove in 
 vain to recall. 
 
 ' De Lawdy-Gawd save us, Miss Sally ! Wot 
 yo' doin dah ? Chile ! Chile ! Yo'll kill you'self, 
 shuah ! ' 
 
 The pressure continued strange and potent 
 even through his pain and was then withdrawn. 
 And a voice that thrilled him said : 
 
 ' It's the only thing to save him ! Hush, ye 
 chattering black crow ! Say anything about this 
 to a living soul, and I'll have yo' flogged ! Now 
 trot out the whisky bottle and pour it down him.' 
 
SALLY DOWS 123 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 WHEN Courtland's eyes opened again, he was in bed 
 in his own room at Redlands, with the vivid morn- 
 ing sun occasionally lighting up the wall whenever 
 the closely-drawn curtains were lightly blown 
 aside by the freshening breeze. The whole events 
 of the night might have been a dream, but for the 
 unsupportable languor which numbed his senses, 
 and the torpor of his arm, that, swollen and dis- 
 coloured, lay outside the coverlet on a pillow be- 
 fore him. Cloths that had been wrung out in iced 
 water were replaced upon it from time to time 
 by Sophy, Miss Dows's housekeeper, who, seated 
 near his bed-head, was lazily fanning him. Their 
 eyes met. 
 
 ' Broken ? ' he said interrogatively, with a 
 faint return of his old deliberate manner, glancing 
 at his helpless arm. 
 
 * Deedy no, cun'nle ! Snake bite,' responded 
 the negress. 
 
 1 Snake bite ! ' repeated Courtland, with 
 languid interest, ' what snake ? ' 
 
 ' Moccasin o' copperhead if you doun know 
 yo'self which,' she replied. * But it's all right now, 
 honey ! De pizen's draw'd out and clean done 
 gone. Wot yer feels now is de whisky. De 
 
124 
 
 SALLY DOWS 
 
 SOPHY, MISS DOWS HOUSEKEEPER, SEATED NEAR HIS 
 BED-HEAD, WAS LAZILY FANNING HIM 
 
 whisky stays, sah. It gets into de lubrications of 
 de skin, sah, and has to be absobed.' 
 
SALLY DOWS 125 
 
 Some faint chord of memory was touched by 
 the girl's peculiar vocabulary. 
 
 ' Ah, said Courtland quickly, ( you're Miss 
 Dows's Sophy. Then you can tell me ' 
 
 4 Nuffin, sah ! absomlutely nuffin ! ' interrupted 
 the girl, shaking her head with impressive official 
 dignity. 'It's done gone fo'bid by de doctor! 
 Yo're to lie dar and shut yo're eye, honey,' she 
 added, for the moment reverting unconsciously to 
 the native maternal tenderness of her race, ' and 
 yo're not to bodder yo'self ef school keeps o' not. 
 De medical man say distinctly, sah/ she con- 
 cluded, sternly recalling her duty again, ' no con- 
 versation wid de patient.' 
 
 But Courtland had winning ways with all de- 
 pendents. ' But you will answer me one ques- 
 tion, Sophy, and I'll not ask another. Has' 
 he hesitated, in his still uncertainty as to the 
 actuality of his experience and its probable extent 
 ' has Cato escaped ? ' 
 
 ' If yo' mean dat sassy, bull-nigger oberseer ob 
 yo'se, cun'nle, he s safe, yo' bet ! ' returned Sophy, 
 sharply. ' Safe in his own quo'tahs night afo' las', 
 after braggin' about the blood-haowns he killed ; 
 and safe ober the county line yes'day moan'in, 
 after kicking up all dis rumpus. If dar is a sassy, 
 high falutin' nigger I jiss 'spises it's dat black 
 nigger Cato o' yo'se ! Now,' relenting * yo' 
 
126 SALLY DOWS 
 
 jiss wink yo' eye, honey, and don't excite yoself 
 about sach black trash ; drap off to sleep com- 
 forble. Fo' yo do' an get annuder word out o' 
 Sophy, shuah ! ' 
 
 As if in obedience, Courtland closed his eyes. 
 But even in his weak state he was conscious of the 
 blood coming into his cheek at Sophy's relentless 
 criticism of the man for whom he had just perilled 
 his life and position. Much of it he felt was true ; 
 but how far had he been a dupe in his Quixotic 
 defence of a quarrelsome blusterer and cowardly 
 bully ? Yet there was the unmistakable shot and 
 cold-blooded attempt at Cato's assassination ! 
 And there were the bloodhounds sent to track the 
 unfortunate man ! That was no dream but a 
 brutal inexcusable fact ! 
 
 The medical practitioner of Redlands he re- 
 membered was conservative, old-fashioned, and 
 diplomatic. But his sympathies had been 
 broadened by some army experiences, and 
 Courtland trusted to some soldierly and frank 
 exposition of the matter from him. Nevertheless, 
 Dr. Maynard was first healer, and, like Sophy, 
 professionally cautious. The Colonel had better 
 not talk about it now. It was already two days 
 old ; the Colonel had been nearly forty-eight 
 hours in bed. It was a regrettable affair, but 
 the natural climax of long-continued political 
 and racial irritation and not without great 
 
SALLY DOWS 127 
 
 provocation ! Assassination was a strong word ; 
 could Colonel Courtlancl swear that Cato was 
 actually aimed at, or was it not merely a demon- 
 stration to frighten a bullying negro ? It might 
 have been necessary to teach him a lesson 
 which the Colonel by this time ought to know 
 could only be taught to these inferior races by 
 fear. The bloodhounds ! Ah, yes ! well, the 
 bloodhounds were, in fact, only a part of that 
 wholesome discipline. Surely Colonel Courtland 
 was not so foolish as to believe that, even in the 
 old slave-holding days, planters sent dogs after 
 runaways to mangle and destroy their own pro- 
 perty ? They might as well, at once, let them 
 escape ! No, sir ! They were used only to 
 frighten and drive the niggers out of swamps, 
 brakes, and hiding-places as no nigger had ever 
 dared to face 'em. Cato might lie as much as he 
 liked, but everybody knew who it was that killed 
 . Major Reed's hounds. Nobody blamed the 
 Colonel for it not even Major Reed but if the 
 Colonel had lived a little longer in the South 
 he'd have known it wasn't necessary to do that in 
 self-preservation, as the hounds would never have 
 gone for a white man. But that was not a matter 
 for the Colonel to bother about now. He was 
 doing well ; he had slept nearly thirty hours ; 
 there was no fever, he must continue to doze off 
 the exhaustion of his powerful stimulant, and 
 
128 SALLY DOWS 
 
 he, the doctor, would return later in the after- 
 noon. 
 
 Perhaps it was his very inability to grasp in 
 that exhausted state the full comprehension of the 
 doctors meaning, perhaps because the physical 
 benumbing of his brain was stronger than any 
 mental excitement, but he slept again until the 
 doctor reappeared. 'You're doing well enough 
 now, Colonel,' said the physician, after a brief 
 examination of his patient, * and I think we can 
 afford to wake you up a bit, and even let you 
 move your arm. You're luckier than poor Jo 
 Higbee, who won't be able to set his leg to the 
 floor for three, weeks to come. I haven't got all 
 the buck-shot out of it yet that Jack Dumont put 
 there the other night.' 
 
 Courtland started slightly. Jack Dumont ! 
 That was the name of Sally Dows's cousin of 
 whom Champney had spoken ! He had resolutely 
 put aside from his returning memory the hazy re- 
 collection of the young girl's voice the last thing 
 he had heard that night and the mystery that 
 seemed to surround it. But there was no delusion 
 in this cousin his rival, and that of the equally 
 deceived Champney. He controlled himself and 
 repeated coldly : 
 
 1 Jack Dumont! ' 
 
 ' Yes. But of course you knew nothing of all 
 
SALLY DOWS 129 
 
 that, while you were off in the swamp there. Yet, 
 by Jingo! it was Dumont's shooting Higbee that 
 helped you to get off your nigger, a darned sight 
 more than your killing the dogs.' 
 
 ' I don't understand,' returned Courtland 
 coldly. 
 
 ' Well, you see, Dumont, who had taken up 
 No'th'n principles, I reckon, more to goad the 
 Higbees and please Sally Dows than from any 
 conviction, came over here that night. Whether 
 he suspected anything was up, or wanted to dare 
 Higbee for bedevilment, or was only dancing 
 attendance on Miss Sally, no one knows. But he 
 rode slap into Higbee' s party, called out " If you're 
 out hunting, Jo, here's a chance for your score! ' 
 meaning their old vendetta feud, and brings his 
 shot-gun up to his shoulder. Higbee wasn't 
 quick enough, Dumont lets fly, drops Higbee, 
 and then gallops off chased by the Reeds to 
 avenge Higbee, and followed by the whole crowd 
 to see the fun, which was a little better than 
 nigger-driving. And that let you and Cato out, 
 colonel.' 
 
 ' And Dumont ? ' 
 
 ' Got clean away to F'oxboro' Station, leaving 
 another score on his side for the Reeds and 
 Higbees to wipe out as best they can. You 
 No'th'n men don't believe in these sort of things, 
 
 K 
 
130 SALLY DOWS 
 
 colonel, but taken as a straight dash and bit o' 
 raiding, that stroke of Sally Dows's cousin was 
 mighty fine ! ' 
 
 Courtland controlled himself with difficulty. 
 The doctor had spoken truly. The hero of this 
 miserable affair was her cousin his rival \ And 
 to him perhaps influenced by some pitying 
 appeal of Miss Sally for the man she had deceived 
 Courtland owed his life ! He instinctively drew 
 a quick, sharp breath. 
 
 ' Are you in pain ? ' 
 
 ' Not at all. When can I get up ? ' 
 
 * Perhaps to-morrow.' 
 
 ' And this arm ? ' 
 
 ' Better not use it for a week or two.' He 
 stopped, and, glancing paternally at the younger 
 man, added gravely but kindly : 'If you'll take my 
 unprofessional advice, Colonel Courtland, you'll 
 let this matter simmer down. It won't hurt you 
 and your affairs here that folks have had a taste 
 of your quality, and the nigger a lesson that his 
 fellows won't forget.' 
 
 ' I thank you,' returned Courtland coldly ; ' but 
 I think I already understand my duty to the 
 company I represent and the Government I have 
 served.' 
 
 1 Possibly, colonel,' said the doctor quietly ; 
 ' but you'll let an older man remind you and the 
 
SALLY DOWS 
 
 Government that you can't change the habits or 
 
 relations of two distinct races in a few years. 
 
 Your friend, Miss Sally 
 
 Dows although not 
 
 quite in my way of 
 
 thinking has never 
 
 attempted that' 
 
 ' I am fully aware 
 that Miss Dows pos- 
 sesses diplomatic accom- 
 plishments and graces 
 that I cannot lay claim 
 to,' returned Courtland 
 bitterly. 
 
 The doctor lifted his 
 eyebrows slightly, and 
 changed the subject. 
 
 When he had gone, 
 Courtland called for 
 writing materials. He 
 had already made up \ 
 his mind, and one course 
 alone seemed proper to 
 him. He wrote to the 
 president of the com- 
 
 . 'IF YOU'LL TAKE _ - 
 
 pany, detailing the Cir- PROFESSIONAL ADVICE, COLONEL 
 
 t. L J COURTLAND, YOU'LL LET THIS 
 
 CUmstanceS that had JUSt MATTER SIMMER DOWN ' 
 
 occurred, admitting the 
 
 K 3 
 
 MY UN- 
 
132 SALLY DOWS 
 
 alleged provocation given by his overseer, but 
 pointing out the terrorism of a mob-law, which 
 rendered his own discipline impossible. He asked 
 that the matter be reported to Washington, and 
 some measures taken for the protection of the 
 freedmen. In the meantime he begged to tender 
 his own resignation, but he would stay until his 
 successor was appointed, or the safety of his 
 employes secured. Until then, he should act upon 
 his own responsibility, and according to his judg- 
 ment. He made no personal charges, mentioned 
 no names, asked for no exemplary prosecution or 
 trial of the offenders, but only demanded a safe- 
 guard against a repetition of the offence. His 
 next letter, although less formal and official, was 
 more difficult. It was addressed to the Com- 
 mandant of the nearest Federal barracks, who was 
 an old friend and former companion-in-arms. He 
 alluded to some conversation they had previously 
 exchanged in regard to the presence of a small 
 detachment of troops at Redlands during the 
 elections, which Courtland at the time, however, 
 had diplomatically opposed. He suggested it 
 now as a matter of public expediency and preven- 
 tion. When he had sealed the letters, not caring to 
 expose them to the espionage of the local post- 
 master or his ordinary servants, he entrusted them 
 to one of Miss Sally's own henchmen, to be posted 
 
SALLY DOWS 133 
 
 at the next office, at Bitter Creek Station, ten 
 miles distant. 
 
 Unfortunately, this duty acccomplished, the 
 reaction consequent on his still weak physical 
 condition threw him back upon himself and his 
 memory. He had resolutely refused to think of 
 Miss Sally ; he had been able to withstand the 
 suggestions of her in the presence of her hand- 
 maid supposed to be potent in nursing and herb- 
 lore whom she had detached to wait upon him, 
 and he had returned politely formal acknowledg- 
 ments to her inquiries. He had determined to 
 continue this personal avoidance as far as possible 
 until he was relieved, on the ground of that busi- 
 ness expediency which these events had made 
 necessary. She would see that he was only 
 accepting the arguments with which she had met 
 his previous advances. Briefly, he had recourse 
 to that hopeless logic by which a man proves to 
 himself that he has no reason for loving a certain 
 woman, and is as incontestably convinced by the 
 same process that he has. And in the midst of it 
 he weakly fell asleep, and dreamed that he and 
 Miss Sally were walking in the cemetery ; that a 
 hideous snake concealed among some lilies, over 
 which the young girl was bending, had uplifted its 
 triangular head to strike. That he seized it by 
 the neck, struggled with it until he was nearly 
 
134 SALLY DOWS 
 
 exhausted, when it suddenly collapsed and shrunk, 
 leaving in his palm the limp, crushed, and delicately 
 perfumed little thread glove which he remembered 
 to have once slipped from her hand. 
 
 When he awoke, that perfume seemed to be 
 still in the air, distinct from the fresh but home- 
 lier scents of the garden which stole through the 
 window. A sense of delicious coolness came with 
 the afternoon breeze, that faintly trilled the 
 slanting slats of the blind with a slumberous 
 humming as of bees. The golden glory of a 
 sinking southern sun was pencilling the cheap 
 paper on the wall with leafy tracery and glowing 
 arabesques. But more than that, the calm of 
 some potent influence or some unseen presence 
 was upon him, which he feared a movement 
 might dispel. The chair at the foot of his bed 
 was empty. Sophy had gone out. He did not 
 turn his head to look further ; his languid eyes 
 falling aimlessly upon the carpet at his bedside 
 suddenly dilated. For they fell also on the 
 ' smallest foot in the State.' 
 
 He started to his elbow, but a soft hand was 
 laid gently yet firmly upon his shoulder, and with 
 a faint rustle of muslin skirts Miss Sally rose 
 from an unseen chair at the head of his bed, and 
 stood beside him. 
 
 1 Don't stir, co'nnle, I didn't sit where I could 
 
SALLY DOWS 135 
 
 look in yo're face for fear of waking yo'. But I'll 
 change seats now.' She moved to the chair which 
 Sophy had vacated, drew it slightly nearer the 
 bed, and sat down. 
 
 ' It was very kind of you to come,' said 
 Courtland, hesitatingly, as with a strong effort he 
 drew his eyes away from the fascinating vision, 
 and regained a certain cold composure, ' but I am 
 afraid my illness has been greatly magnified. I 
 really am quite well enough to be up and about 
 my business, if the doctor would permit it. But 
 I shall certainly manage to attend to my duty to- 
 morrow, and I hope to be at your service.' 
 
 1 Meaning that yo' don't care to see me now, 
 co'nnle,' she said lightly, with a faint twinkle in 
 her wise, sweet eyes. ' I thought of that, but, as 
 my business wouldn't wait, I brought it to you.' 
 She took from the folds of her gown a letter. To 
 his utter amazement it was the one he had given 
 his overseer to post to the Commandant that 
 morning. To his greater indignation the seal was 
 broken. 
 
 ' Who has dared ? ' he demanded, half rising. 
 
 Her little hand was thrust out half deprecat- 
 ingly. ' No one yo' can fight, co'nnle ; only me. 
 I don't generally open other folks' letters, and 
 I wouldn't have done it for myself \ I did for yo'.' 
 
 ' For me ? ' 
 
136 SALLY DOWS 
 
 1 For yo'. I reckoned what yo' might do, and 
 1 told Sam to bring me the letters first. I didn't 
 mind what yo' wrote to the company for they'll 
 take care of yo', and their own eggs are all in the 
 same basket. I didn't open that one, but I did 
 this when I saw the address. It was as I expected, 
 and yo'd given yo'self away ! For if yo' had those 
 soldiers down here, yo'll have a row, sure ! Don't 
 move, co'nnle, j}'<?' may not care for that, it's inyor 
 line. But folks will say that the soldiers weren't 
 sent to prevent rioting, but that Co'nnle Courtland 
 was using his old comrades to keep order on his 
 property at Gov'ment expense. Hoi' on ! Hoi' 
 on ! co'nnle,' said the little figure, rising and 
 waving its pretty arms with a mischievous simu- 
 lation of terrified deprecation. ' Don't shoot ! Of 
 course yo' didn't mean that, but that's about 
 the way that So'th'n men will put it to yo'r 
 Gov'ment. For,' she continued, more gently, 
 yet with the shrewdest twinkle in her grey eyes, 
 'if yo' really thought the niggers might need 
 Federal protection, yo'ld have let me write to the 
 Commandant to send an escort not to yo\ but 
 to Cato that he might be able to come back in 
 safety. Yo'ld have had yo'r soldiers ; I'd have 
 had back my nigger, which' (demurely) ' yo' 
 don't seem to worry yo'self much about, co'nnle ; 
 and there isn't a So'th'n man would have objected. 
 
SALLY DOWS 137 
 
 But,' still more demurely, and affectedly smooth- 
 ing out her crisp skirt with her little hands, ' yo' 
 havn't been troubling me much with yo'r counsel 
 lately.' 
 
 A swift and utterly new comprehension swept 
 over Courtland. For the first time in his know- 
 ledge of her he suddenly grasped what was, 
 perhaps, the true conception of her character. 
 Looking at her clearly now, he understood the 
 meaning of those pliant graces, so unaffected and 
 yet always controlled by the reasoning of an un- 
 biassed intellect ; her frank speech, and plausible 
 intonations ! Before him stood the true-born 
 daughter of a long race of politicians ! All that 
 he had heard of their dexterity, tact, and expe- 
 diency rose here incarnate, with the added grace 
 of womanhood. A strange sense of relief perhaps 
 a dawning of hope stole over him. 
 
 ' But how will this ensure Cato's safety here- 
 after, or give protection to the others ? ' he said, 
 fixing his eyes upon her. 
 
 ' The future won't concern yd much, co'nnle, 
 if as yo' say here yo'r resignation is sent in, and 
 yo'r successor appointed,' she replied, with more 
 gravity than she had previously shown. 
 
 ' But you do not think I will leave jy^/ in this 
 uncertainty,' he said passionately. He stopped 
 suddenly, his brow darkened. ' I forgot,' he added 
 
138 SALLY DOWS 
 
 coldly ' you will be well protected. Your cousin 
 will give you the counsel of race and closer 
 ties.' 
 
 To his infinite astonishment, Miss Sally leaned 
 forward in her chair and buried her laughing face 
 in both of her hands. When her dimples had 
 become again visible, she said with an effort, 
 ' Don't yo' think, co'nnle, that as a peace-maker 
 my cousin was even a bigger failure than yo'self ? ' 
 
 ' I don't understand,' stammered Courtland. 
 
 ' Don't yo' think,' she continued, wiping her 
 eyes demurely, ' that if a young woman about my 
 size, who had got perfectly tired and sick of all 
 this fuss made about yo\ because yo' were a No'th'n 
 man, managing niggers : if that young woman 
 wanted to show her people what sort of a radical 
 and abolitionist a Sot/in man of their own sort 
 might become, she'd have sent for Jack Dumont 
 as a sample ? Eh ? Only, I declare to goodness, 
 / never reckoned that he and Higbee would revive 
 the tomfooling of the vendetta, and take to shootin' 
 each other at once.' 
 
 ' And your sending for your cousin was only 
 a feint to protect me ? ' said Courtland faintly. 
 
 * Perhaps he didn't have to be sent for 
 co'nnle/ she said, with a slight touch of coquetry 
 ' Suppose we say, I let him come. He'd be hang- 
 ing round, for he has property here, and wanted 
 
SALLY DOWS 139 
 
 to get me to take it up with mine in the company. 
 I knew what his new views and ideas were, and I 
 thought I'd better consult Champney who, being 
 a foreigner, and an older resident than yo', was 
 quite neutral. He didn't happen to tell yd anything 
 about it did he, co'nnle ? ' she added with a grave 
 mouth, but an indescribable twinkle in her eyes. 
 
 Courtland's face darkened. ' He did and he 
 further told me, Miss Dows, that he himself was 
 your suitor, and that you had refused him because 
 of the objections of your people.' 
 
 She raised her eyes to his swiftly and dropped 
 them. 
 
 ' And you think I ought to have accepted him ?' 
 she said, slowly. 
 
 * No ! but you know you told me ' he 
 began hurriedly. But she had already risen, and 
 was shaking out the folds of her dress. 
 
 1 We're not talking business, co'nnle and 
 business was my only excuse for coming here, and 
 taking Sophy's place. I'll send her in to yo', now.' 
 
 1 But, Miss Dows ! Miss Sally ! ' 
 
 She stopped hesitated a singular weakness 
 for so self-contained a nature and then slowly 
 produced from her pocket a second letter the 
 one that Courtland had directed to the company. 
 1 I didn't read this letter, as I just told yo,' co'nnle, 
 for I reckon I know what's in it, but I thought I'd 
 
140 
 
 SALLY DOWS 
 
 bring it with me too, in case yd changed ydr 
 
 mind! 
 
 He raised himself on his pillow as she turned 
 
 quickly away ; but 
 in that single van- 
 ishing glimpse of 
 her bright face he 
 saw what neither 
 he nor any one eke 
 had ever seen upon 
 the face of Sally 
 Dows a burning 
 blush ! 
 
 ' Miss Sally ! ' 
 He almost leaped 
 from the bed, but 
 she was gone. 
 There was another 
 rustle at the door 
 the entrance of 
 Sophy. 
 
 ' Call her back, 
 Sophy, quick ! ' he 
 
 said. 
 
 SHE STOPPED HESITATED A SIX- 
 GULAR WEAKNESS FOR SO SELF-CONTAINED 
 
 A NATURE 
 
 shook herturbaned 
 head. * Not much, honey ! When Miss Sally 
 say she goes she done gone, shuah ! ' 
 
SALLY DOWS 141 
 
 'But, Sophy!' Perhaps something in the 
 significant face of the girl tempted him ; perhaps 
 it was only an impulse of his forgotten youth. 
 * Sophy ! ' appealingly ' tell me ! is Miss Sally 
 engaged to her cousin ? ' 
 
 ' Wat dat ? ' said Sophy, in indignant scorn. 
 6 Miss Sally engaged to dat Dumont ! What fo' ? 
 Yo'r crazy ! No ! ' 
 
 * Nor Champney ? Tell me, Sophy, has she a 
 lover ? ' 
 
 For a moment the whites of Sophy's eyes were 
 uplifted in speechless scorn. ' Yo' ask dat ! Yo' 
 lyin' clar wicl clat snake-bit arm ! Yo' lyin' dar, 
 and Miss Sally who has only to whistle to call 
 de fust quality in de State raoun her coming and 
 going here wid you, and trotting on yo'r arrants 
 and yo' ask dat ! Yes ! she has a lover, and what's 
 mo,' she cant help it ; and yo're her lover ; and 
 what's mo,' yd can't help it either ! . And yo' can't 
 back out of it now bofe of yo' nebber ! Fo' 
 yo're hers, and she's yo'res fo' ebber. For she 
 sucked yo' blood.' 
 
 * What ! ' gasped Courtland, aghast at what he 
 believed to be the sudden insanity of the negress. 
 
 'Yes! Whar's yo' eyes? whar's yo' years? 
 who's yo' dat yo' didn't see nor heah nuffin ? When 
 dey dragged yo' outer de swamp dat night wid 
 de snake-bite fresh on yo' arm didn't she, dat poh 
 
142 SALLY DOWS 
 
 chile! dat same Miss Sally frow herself down on 
 yo,' and put dat baby mouf of hers to de wound 
 and suck out de pizen and sabe de life ob yo' at 
 de risk ob her own ? Say ? And if dey's any 
 troof in Hoodoo, don't dat make yo' one blood 
 and one soul ! Go way, white man ! I'm sick of 
 yo'. Stop dar! Lie down dar ! Hoi' on, co'nnle, 
 for massy's sake. Well, dar I'll call her back ! ' 
 And she did ! 
 
 ' Look here don't you know it rather took 
 me by surprise,' said Champney, a few days later, 
 with a hearty grip of the Colonel's uninjured 
 hand ' but I don't bear malice, old fellow, and, 
 by Jove ! it was such a sensible, all-round, business- 
 like choice for the girl to make that no wonder 
 we never thought of it before. Hang it all, you 
 see a fellow was always so certain it would be 
 something out of the way and detrimental, don't 
 you know, that would take the fancy of a girl like 
 that somebody like that cousin of hers or Higbee, 
 or even me, by Jove ! that we never thought of 
 looking beyond our noses never thought of the 
 business \ And you, all the time so cold and silent 
 and matter-of-fact about it ! But I congratulate 
 you ! You've got the business down on a safe 
 basis now, and what's more, you've got the one 
 woman who can run it.' 
 
SALLY DOWS 143 
 
 They say he was a true prophet. At least the 
 Syndicate affairs prospered, and in course of time 
 even the Reeds and the Higbees participated in 
 the benefits. There were no more racial disturb- 
 ances ; only the districts polled a peaceful and 
 smaller Democratic majority at the next election. 
 There were not wanting those who alleged that 
 Colonel Courtlancl had simply become Mrs. 
 Courtlands superintendent ; that she had absorbed 
 him as she had every one who had come under 
 her influence, and that she would not rest until 
 she had made him a Senator (to represent Mrs. 
 Courtland) in the councils of the nation. But 
 when I last dined with them in Washington, ten 
 years ago, I found them both very happy and 
 comfortable, and I remember that Mrs. Courtlancl's 
 remarks upon Federal and State interests, the 
 proper education of young girls, and the manage- 
 ment of the family, were eminently wise and 
 practical. 
 
144 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 PART I 
 
 ON the northerly shore of San Francisco Bay a 
 line of bluffs terminates in a promontory, at whose 
 base, formed by the crumbling ddbris of the cliff 
 above, there is a narrow stretch of beach, salt 
 meadow, and scrub oak. The abrupt wall of rock 
 behind it seems to isolate it as completely from 
 the mainland as the sea before it separates it from 
 the opposite shore. In spite of its contiguity to 
 San Francisco opposite also, but hidden by the 
 sharp re-entering curve of coast the locality was 
 wild, uncultivated, and unfrequented. A solitary 
 fisherman's cabin half-hidden in the rocks was the 
 only trace of habitation. White drifts of sea-gulls 
 and pelican across the face of the cliff, grey clouds 
 of sandpipers rising from the beach, the dripping 
 flight of ducks over the salt meadows, and the 
 occasional splash of a seal from the rocks, were 
 the only signs of life that could be seen from the 
 decks of passing ships. And yet the fisherman's 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 145 
 
 cabin was occupied by Zephas Bunker and his 
 young wife, and he had succeeded in wresting 
 from the hard soil pasturage for a cow and goats, 
 while his lateen-sailed fishing-boat occasionally 
 rode quietly in the sheltered cove below. 
 
 Three years ago Zephas Bunker, an ex- 
 whaler, had found himself stranded on a San 
 Francisco wharf and had ' hired out ' to a small 
 Petaluma farmer. At the end of a year, he had 
 acquired little taste for the farmer's business, but 
 considerable for the farmer's youthful daughter, 
 who, equally weary of small agriculture, had con- 
 sented to elope with him in order to escape it. 
 They were married at Oakland ; he put his scant 
 earnings into a fishing-boat, discovered the site 
 for his cabin, and brought his bride thither. The 
 novelty of the change pleased her, although 
 perhaps it was but little advance on her previous 
 humble position. Yet she preferred her present 
 freedom to the bare restricted home life of her 
 past ; the perpetual presence of the restless sea 
 was a relief to the old monotony of the wheat field 
 and its isolated drudgery. For Mary's youthful 
 fancy, thinly sustained in childhood by the lightest 
 literary food, had neither been stimulated nor 
 disillusioned by her marriage. That practical 
 experience which is usually the end of girlish 
 romance had left her still a child in sentiment 
 
I 4 6 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 The long absences of her husband in his fishing- 
 boat kept her from wearying of or even knowing 
 
 his older and unequal 
 companionship ; it 
 gave her a freedom 
 her girlhood had 
 never known, yet 
 added a protection 
 that suited her still 
 childish dependency, 
 while it tickled her 
 pride with its equality. 
 When not engaged in 
 her easy household 
 duties in her three- 
 roomed cottage, or 
 the care of her rocky 
 garden patch, she 
 found time enough 
 to indulge her fancy 
 over the mysterious 
 haze that wrapped 
 the invisible city so 
 near and yet un- 
 known to her ; in 
 the sails that slipped 
 
 in apd out of the Golden Gate, but of whose 
 destination she knew nothing; and in the long 
 
 FANCY 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 147 
 
 smoke trail of the mail steamer which had yet 
 brought her no message. Like all dwellers by 
 the sea, her face and her thoughts were more 
 frequently turned towards it ; and as with them, 
 it also seemed to her that whatever change was 
 coming into her life would come across that vast 
 unknown expanse. But it was here that Mrs- 
 Bunker was mistaken. 
 
 It had been a sparkling summer morning. 
 The waves were running before the dry North- 
 west Trade winds with crystalline but colourless 
 brilliancy. Sheltered by the high, northerly bluff, 
 the house and its garden were exposed to the un- 
 tempered heat of the cloudless sun refracted from 
 the rocky wall behind it. Some tarpaulin and ropes 
 lying among the rocks were sticky and odorous ; 
 the scrub oaks and manzanita bushes gave out 
 the aroma of baking wood ; occasionally a faint 
 pot-pourri fragrance from the hot wild roses and 
 beach grass was blown along the shore ; even the 
 lingering odours of Bunker's vocation, and of Mrs. 
 Bunker's cooking, were idealised and refined by the 
 saline breath of the sea at the doors and windows. 
 Mrs. Bunker, in the dazzling sun, bending over 
 her peas and lettuces with a small hoe, felt the 
 comfort of her brown holland sun-bonnet. Secure 
 in her isolation, she unbuttoned the neck of her 
 gown for air, and did not put up the strand of 
 
 L 2 
 
148 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 black hair that had escaped over her shoulder. 
 It was very hot in the lee of the bluff, and very 
 
 quiet in that still 
 air. So quiet that 
 she heard two 
 distinct reports, 
 following each 
 other quickly, but 
 very faint and far. 
 She glanced me- 
 chanically towards 
 the sea. Two 
 { merchantmen in 
 midstream were 
 shaking out their 
 wings for a long 
 flight, a pilot 
 boat and coast- 
 ing schooner were 
 rounding the 
 
 point, but there 
 was no smoke 
 from their decks. 
 She bent over her 
 work again, and in 
 another moment had forgotten it. But the 
 heat, with the dazzling reflection from the cliff, 
 forced her to suspend her gardening, and stroll 
 
 SHE GLANCED TOWARDS THE SEA 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 14$ 
 
 along the beach to the extreme limit of her 
 
 domain. Here she looked after the cow, that had 
 
 also strayed away through the tangled bush for 
 
 coolness. The goats, impervious to temperature, 
 
 were basking in inaccessible fastnesses on the cliff 
 
 itself that made 
 
 her eyes ache to 
 
 climb. Over an 
 
 hour passed, she 
 
 was returning, 
 
 and had neared 
 
 her house, when 
 
 she was suddenly 
 
 startled to see 
 
 the figure of a 
 
 man between her 
 
 and the cliff. He 
 
 was engaged in 
 
 brushing his dusty 
 
 clothes with a 
 
 handkerchief, and 
 
 although he saw 
 
 her coming, and even moved slowly towards her, 
 
 continued his occupation with a half-impatient, 
 
 half-abstracted air. Her feminine perception was 
 
 struck with the circumstance that he was in deep 
 
 black, with scarcely a gleam of white showing 
 
 even at his throat, and that he wore a tall black 
 
 BRUSHING HIS DUSTY CLOTHES 
 
ISO THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 hat. Without knowing anything of social cus- 
 toms, it seemed to her that his dress was incon- 
 sistent with his appearance there. 
 
 * Good morning,' he said, lifting his hat with a 
 preoccupied air. ' Do you live here ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' she said wonderingly. 
 
 ' Anybody else ? ' 
 
 ' My husband.' 
 
 ' I mean any other people ? Are there any 
 other houses ? ' he said with a slight impatience. 
 
 'No.' 
 
 He looked at her and then towards the sea. 
 ' I expect some friends who are coming for me in 
 a boat. I suppose they can land easily here ? ' 
 
 ' Didn't you yourself land here just now ? ' she 
 said quickly. 
 
 He half hesitated, and then, as if scorning 
 an equivocation, made a hasty gesture over her 
 shoulder and said bluntly, ' No, I came over the 
 cliff.' 
 
 ' Down the cliff?' she repeated incredulously. 
 
 ' Yes,' he said, glancing at fas clothes ; ' it was 
 a rough scramble, but the goats showed me the 
 way.' 
 
 ' And you were up on the bluff all the time ? ' 
 she went on curiously. 
 
 ' Yes. You see I ,' he stopped suddenly 
 
 at what seemed to be the beginning of a pre- 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 151 
 
 arranged and plausible explanation, as if impatient 
 of its weakness or hypocrisy, and said briefly : 
 * Yes I was there.' 
 
 Like most women, more observant of his face 
 and figure, she did not miss this lack of explana- 
 tion. He was a very good-looking man of middle 
 age, with a thin, proud, high-bred face, which in a 
 country of bearded men had the further distinction 
 of being smoothly shaven. She had never seen 
 anyone like him before. She thought he looked 
 like an illustration of some novel she had read, 
 but also somewhat melancholy, worn, and tired. 
 
 ' Won't you come in and rest yourself?' she 
 said, motioning to the cabin. 
 
 ' Thank you,' he said, still half absently. ' Per- 
 haps I'd better. It may be some time yet before 
 they come.' 
 
 She led the way to the cabin, entered the 
 living room a plainly furnished little apartment 
 between the bedroom and the kitchen pointed to 
 a large bamboo armchair, and placed a bottle of 
 whisky and some water on the table before him. 
 He thanked her again very gently, poured out 
 some spirits in his glass, and mixed it with water. 
 But when she glanced towards him again he had 
 apparently risen without tasting it, and going to 
 the door was standing there with his hand in the 
 breast of his buttoned frock coat, gazing silently 
 
152 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 towards the sea. There was something vaguely 
 historical in his attitude or what she thought 
 might be historical as of somebody of great im- 
 portance who had halted on the eve of some great 
 event at the door of her humble cabin. 
 
 His apparent unconsciousness of her and of 
 his surroundings, his pre-occupation with some- 
 thing far beyond her ken, far from piquing her, 
 only excited her interest the more. And then 
 there was such an odd sadness in his eyes. 
 
 * Are you anxious for your folks coming ? ' she 
 said at last, following his outlook. 
 
 ' I oh no ! ' he returned, quickly recalling him- 
 self, ' they'll be sure to come sooner or later. 
 No fear of that,' he added half smilingly, half 
 wearily. 
 
 Mrs, Bunker passed into the kitchen, where, 
 while apparently attending to her household duties, 
 she could still observe her singular guest. Left 
 alone, he seated himself mechanically in the chair, 
 and gazed fixedly at the fireplace. He remained 
 a long time so quiet and unmoved, in spite of the 
 marked ostentatious clatter Mrs. Bunker found 
 it necessary to make with her dishes, that an odd 
 fancy that he was scarcely a human visitant began 
 to take possession of her. Yet she was not 
 frightened. She remembered distinctly afterwards 
 that, far from having any concern for herself, she 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 '53 
 
 was only moved by a strange and vague admira- 
 tion of him. 
 
 But her prolonged scrutiny was not without 
 effect. Suddenly he raised his dark eyes, and 
 
 THERE WAS SOMETHING VAGUELY HISTORICAL IN HIS ATTITUDE 
 
 she felt them pierce the obscurity of her kitchen 
 with a quick, suspicious, impatient penetration, 
 which as they met hers gave way, however, to a 
 look that she thought was gently reproachful. 
 
154 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 Then he rose, stretched himself to his full height, 
 and approaching the kitchen door leaned listlessly 
 against the door-post. 
 
 ' I don't suppose you are ever lonely here ? ' 
 
 * No, sir.' 
 
 ' Of course not. You have yourself and 
 husband. Nobody interferes with you. You are 
 contented and happy together.' 
 
 Mrs. Bunker did not say, what was the- fact, 
 that she had never before connected the sole 
 companionship of her husband with her happiness. 
 Perhaps it had never occurred to her until that 
 moment how little it had to do with it. She only 
 smiled gratefully at the change in her guest's 
 abstraction. 
 
 1 Do you often go to San Francisco ? ' he 
 continued. 
 
 ' I have never been there at all. Some clay I 
 expect we will go there to live.' 
 
 ' I wouldn't advise you to,' he said, looking at 
 her gravely. * I don't think it will pay you. 
 You'll never be happy there as here. You'll 
 never have the independence and freedom you 
 have here. You'll never be your own mistress 
 again. But how does it happen you never were 
 in San Francisco ? ' he said suddenly. 
 
 If he would not talk of himself, here at least 
 was a chance for Mrs. Bunker to say something. 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 155 
 
 She related how her family had emigrated from 
 Kansas across the plains and had taken up a 
 * location ' at Contra Costa. How she didn't care 
 for it, and how she came to marry the seafaring 
 man who brought her here all with great sim- 
 plicity and frankness and as unreservedly as to 
 a superior being albeit his attention wandered 
 at times, and a rare but melancholy smile that he 
 had apparently evoked to meet her conversational 
 advances became fixed occasionally. Even his 
 dark eyes, which had obliged Mrs. Bunker to put 
 up her hair, and button her collar, rested upon 
 her without seeing her. 
 
 ' Then your husband's name is Bunker ? ' he 
 said when she paused at last. ' That's one of 
 those Nantucket Quaker names sailors and 
 whalers for generations and yours, you say, was 
 MacEwan. Well, Mrs. Bunker, your family came 
 from Kentucky to Kansas only lately, though I 
 suppose your father calls himself a Free-States 
 man. You ought to know something of farming 
 and cattle, for your ancestors were old Scotch 
 Covenanters who emigrated a hundred years ago, 
 and were great stock raisers.' 
 
 All this seemed only the natural omniscience 
 of a superior being. And Mrs. Bunker perhaps 
 was not pained to learn that her husband's family 
 was of a lower degree than her own. But the 
 
156 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 stranger's knowledge did not end there. He 
 talked of her husband's business he explained 
 the vast fishing resources of the bay and coast. 
 He showed her how the large colony of Italian 
 fishermen were inimical to the interests of 
 California and to her husband particularly as a 
 native American trader. He told her of the 
 volcanic changes of the bay and coast line, of the 
 formation of the rocky ledge on which she lived. 
 He pointed out to her its value to the Government 
 for defensive purposes, and how it naturally com- 
 manded the entrance of the Golden Gate far better 
 than Fort Point, and that it ought to be in its 
 hands. If the Federal Government did not buy 
 it of her husband, certainly the State of California 
 should. And here he fell into an abstraction as 
 deep and as gloomy as before. He walked to the 
 window, paced the floor with his hand in his breast, 
 went to the door, and finally stepped out of the 
 cabin, moving along the ledge of rocks to the 
 shore, where he stood motionless. 
 
 Mrs. Bunker had listened to him with parted 
 lips and eyes of eloquent admiration. She had 
 never before heard anyone talk like that she had 
 not believed it possible that anyone could have 
 such knowledge. Perhaps she could not under- 
 stand all he said, but she would try to remember 
 it after he had gone. She could only think now 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 157 
 
 how kind it was of him that in all this mystery of 
 his coming, and in the singular sadness that was 
 oppressing him, he should try to interest her. 
 And thus looking at him, and wondering, an idea 
 came to her. 
 
 She went into her bedroom and took down her 
 husband's heavy pilot overcoat and sou'-wester, 
 and handed them to her guest. 
 
 ' You'd better put them on if you're going to 
 stand there,' she said. 
 
 ' But I am not cold,' he said, wonderingly. 
 
 1 But you might be seen' she said simply. 
 
 It was the first suggestion that had passed 
 between them that his presence there was a secret. 
 He looked at her intently, then he smiled and 
 said, ' I think you're right, for many reasons,' put 
 the pilot coat over his frock coat, removed his hat 
 with the gesture of a bow, handed it to her, and 
 placed the sou'-wester in its stead. Then for an 
 instant he hesitated as if about to speak, but Mrs. 
 Bunker, with a delicacy that she could not herself 
 comprehend at the moment, hurried back to the 
 cabin without giving him an opportunity. 
 
 Nor did she again intrude upon his meditations. 
 Hidden in his disguise, which to her eyes did not, 
 however, seem to conceal his characteristic figure, 
 he wandered for nearly an hour under the bluff 
 and along the shore, returning at last almost 
 
I 5 8 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 mechanically to the cabin, where, oblivious of his 
 surroundings, he reseated himself in silence by 
 the table with his cheek resting on his hand. 
 
 YOU'D BETTER PUT THEM ON ' 
 
 Presently, her quick, experienced ear detected the 
 sound of oars in their rowlocks ; she could plainly 
 see from her kitchen window a small boat with two 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 159 
 
 strangers seated at the stern being pulled to the 
 shore. With the same strange instinct of delicacy, 
 she determined not to go out lest her presence 
 might embarrass her guest's reception of his 
 friends. But as she turned towards the living 
 room she found he had already risen and was 
 removing his hat and pilot coat. She was struck, 
 however, by the circumstance that not only did 
 he exhibit no feeling of relief at his deliverance, 
 but that a half cynical, half savage expression had 
 taken the place of his former melancholy. As he 
 went to the door, the two gentlemen hastily 
 clambered up the rocks to greet him. 
 
 'Jim reckoned it was you hangin' round the 
 rocks, but I couldn't tell at that distance. Seemed 
 you borrowed a hat and coat. Well it's all fixed, 
 and we've no time to lose. There's a coasting 
 steamer just dropping down below the Heads, and 
 it will take you aboard. But I can tell you you've 
 kicked up a h 11 of a row over there.' He 
 stopped, evidently at some sign from her guest. 
 The rest of the man's speech followed in a hurried 
 whisper, which was stopped again by the voice 
 she knew. * No. Certainly not.' The next mo- 
 ment his tall figure was darkening the door of 
 the kitchen ; his hand was outstretched. ' Good- 
 bye, Mrs. Bunker, and many thanks for your 
 hospitality. My friends here,' he turned grimly 
 
i6o THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 to the men behind him, ' think I ought to ask you 
 to keep this a secret even from your husband. / 
 dorit ! They also think that I ought to offer you 
 money for your kindness. / dorit. But if you 
 will honour me by keeping this ring in remem- 
 brance of it ' he took a heavy seal ring from his 
 finger * it's the only bit of jewelry I have about 
 me I'll be very glad. Good-bye ! ' She felt for 
 a moment the firm, soft pressure of his long, thin 
 fingers around her own, and then he was gone. 
 The sound of retreating oars grew fainter and 
 fainter and was lost. The same reserve of 
 delicacy which now appeared to her as a duty 
 kept her from going to the window to watch the 
 destination of the boat. No, he should go as he 
 came, without her supervision or knowledge. 
 
 Nor did she feel lonely afterwards. On the 
 contrary, the silence and solitude of the isolated 
 domain had a new charm. They kept the memory 
 of her experience intact, and enabled her to refill 
 it with his presence. She could see his tall figure 
 again pausing before her cabin, without the in- 
 congruous association of another personality; she 
 could hear his voice again, unmingled with one 
 more familiar. For the first time, the regular 
 absence of her husband seemed an essential good 
 fortune instead of an accident of their life. For 
 the experience belonged to her, and not to him 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 161 
 
 and her together. He could not understand it ; he 
 would have acted differently and spoiled it. She 
 should not tell him anything of it, in spite of the 
 stranger's suggestion, which, of course, he had 
 only made because 
 he didn't know 
 Zephas as well as 
 she did. For Mrs. 
 Bunker was get- 
 ting on rapidly ; 
 it was her first ad- 
 mission of the con- 
 jugal knowledge 
 that one's husband 
 is inferior to the 
 outside estimate of 
 him. The next step 
 the belief that 
 
 
 HONOUR ME BY KEEPING THIS RING 
 
 he was deceiving 
 her as he was them 
 would be com- 
 paratively easy. 
 
 Nor should she 
 
 show him the ring. The stranger had certainly 
 never said anything about that ! It was a heavy 
 ring, with a helmeted head carved on its red 
 cornelian stone, and what looked like strange 
 letters around it. It fitted her third finger per- 
 
 M 
 
r 62 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 fectly ; but his fingers were small, and he had 
 taken it from his little finger. She should 
 keep it herself. Of course, if it had been money, 
 she would have given it to Zephas ; but the 
 stranger knew that she wouldn't take money. 
 How firmly he had said that ' I don't ! ' She felt 
 the warm blood fly to her fresh young face at 
 the thought of it. He had understood her. She 
 might be living in a poor cabin, doing all .the 
 housework herself, and her husband only a fisher- 
 man, but he had treated her like a lady. 
 
 And so the afternoon passed. The outlying 
 fog began to roll in at the Golden Gate, oblitera- 
 ting the headland and stretching a fleecy bar across 
 the channel as if shutting out from vulgar eyes the 
 way that he had gone. Night fell, but Zephas 
 had not yet come. This was unusual, for he was 
 generally as regular as the afternoon * trades ' 
 which blew him there. There was nothing to 
 detain him in this weather and at this season. 
 She began to be vaguely uneasy ; then a little 
 angry at this new development of his incompati- 
 bility. Then it occurred to her, for the first time 
 in her wifehood, to think what she would do if he 
 were lost. Yet, in spite of some pain, terror, and 
 perplexity at the possibility, her dominant thought 
 was that she would be a free woman to order her 
 life as she liked. 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 '63 
 
 It was after ten before his lateen sail flapped 
 in the little cove. She was waiting to receive 
 him on the shore. His good-humoured hirsute 
 face was slightly apologetic in expression, but 
 flushed and dis- 
 turbed with some 
 new excitement, 
 to which an extra 
 glass or two of 
 spirits had ap- 
 parently added 
 intensity. The 
 contrast between 
 his evident in- 
 dulgence and the. 
 previous abste- 
 miousness of her 
 late guest struck 
 her unpleasantly. 
 ' Well - - 1 de- 
 clare,' she said 
 indignantly, ' so 
 thafs what kept 
 you ! ' 
 
 ' No,' he said quickly ' there's been awful 
 times over in 'Frisco ! Everybody just wild, and 
 the Vigilance Committee in session. Jo Hender- 
 son's killed ! Shot by Wynyard Marion in a duel ! 
 
 M 2 
 
 THERE'S BEEN AWFUL TIMES OVER IN 
 'FRISCO ' 
 
164 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. HUNKER 
 
 He'll be lynched, sure as a gun, if they ketch 
 him.' 
 
 ' But I thought men who fought duels always 
 went free.' 
 
 ' Yes, but this ain't no common duel ; they say 
 the whole thing was planned beforehand by them 
 Southern fire-eaters to get rid o' Henderson 
 because he's a Northern man and Anti-Slavery, 
 and that they picked out Colonel Marion to do it 
 because he was a dead shot. They got him to 
 insult Henderson, so he was bound to challenge 
 Marion, and that giv' Marion the chyce of wep- 
 pings. It was a reg'lar put-up job to kill him.' 
 
 ' And what's all this to do with you ? ' she 
 asked, with irritation. 
 
 ' Hold on, won't you ! and I'll tell you. I was 
 pickin' up nets off Sancelito about noon, when I 
 was hailed by one of them Vigilance tugs, and 
 they set me to stand off and on the shore and 
 watch that Marion didn't get away, while they 
 were scoutin' inland. Ye see the duel took place 
 just over the bluff there behind ye and they 
 allowed that Marion had struck away North for 
 Mendocino to take ship there. For after over- 
 haulin' his second's boat, they found out that they 
 had come away from Sancelito alone. But they 
 sent a tug around by sea to Mendocino to head 
 him off there, while they're closin' in around him 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 165 
 
 inland. They're bound to catch him sooner or 
 later. But you ain't listenin', Mollie ?' 
 
 She was in every fibre but with her head 
 turned towards the window, and the invisible 
 Golden Gate through which the fugitive had 
 
 SAW IT ALL NOW 
 THAT GLORIOUS VISION 
 
 escaped. For she saw it all now that glorious 
 vision her high-bred, handsome guest and Wyn- 
 yard Marion were one and the same person. And 
 this rough, commonplace man before her her 
 own husband had been basely set to capture him ! 
 
1 66 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 PART II 
 
 DURING that evening and the next Mrs. Bunker, 
 without betraying her secret, or exciting the least 
 suspicion on the part of her husband, managed to 
 extract from him not only a rough description of 
 Marion which tallied with her own impressions, 
 but a short history of his career. He was a 
 famous politician who had held high office 'in the 
 South ; he was an accomplished lawyer ; he had 
 served in the army ; he was a fiery speaker ; he 
 had a singular command of men. He was 
 unmarried, but there were queer stones of his 
 relations with some of the wives of prominent 
 officials, and there was no doubt that he used them 
 in some of his political intrigues. He, Zephas, 
 would bet something that it was a woman who had 
 helped him off! Did she speak ? 
 
 Yes, she had spoken. It made her sick to 
 sit there and hear such stories ! Because a man 
 did not agree with some people in politics it was 
 perfectly awful to think how they would abuse 
 him and take away his character ! Men were so 
 awfully jealous, too ; if another man happened to 
 be superior and fine-looking there wasn't anything 
 bad enough for them to say about him ! No ! she 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 167 
 
 wasn't a slavery sympathiser either, and hadn't 
 anything to do with man politics, although she 
 was a Southern woman, and the Mac E wans had 
 come from Kentucky and owned slaves. Of 
 course, he, Zephas, whose ancestors were Cape 
 Cod Quakers, and had 
 always been sailors, 
 couldn't understand. 
 She did not know what 
 he meant by saying 
 ' what a long tail our 
 cat's got,' but if he 
 meant to call her a cat, 
 and was going to use 
 such language to her, 
 he had better have 
 stayed in San Fran- 
 cisco with his Vigilante 
 friends. And perhaps 
 it would have been 
 better if he had stayed 
 
 ! i r 1 i THEIR FIRST QUARREL 
 
 there before he took 
 
 her away from her parents at Martinez. Then 
 she wouldn't have been left on a desert rock 
 without any chance of seeing the world, or ever 
 making any friends or acquaintances ! 
 
 It was their first quarrel. Discreetly made 
 up by Mrs. Bunker in some alarm at betraying 
 
1 68 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 herself; honestly forgiven by Zephas in a rude, 
 remorseful consciousness of her limited life. One 
 or two nights later, when he returned, it was with 
 a mingled air of mystery and satisfaction. ' Well, 
 Mollie,' he said cheerfully, ' it looks as if your pets 
 were not as bad as I thought them.' 
 
 ' My pets ! ' repeated Mrs. Bunker, with a 
 faint rising of colour. 
 
 ' Well, I call these Southern Chivs your pets, 
 Mollie, because you stuck up for them so the other 
 night. But never mind that now. What do you 
 suppose has happened? Jim Rider, you know, 
 the Southern banker and speculator, who's a 
 regular big Injin among the "Chivs," he sent 
 Cap Simmons down to the wharf while I was un- 
 loadin' to come and see him. Well, I went, and 
 what do y'u think? He told me he was gettin' 
 up an American Fishin' Company, and wanted 
 me to take charge of a first-class schooner on 
 shares. Said he heard of me afore, and knew 
 I was an American and a white man, and just 
 the chap ez could knock them Eytalians outer 
 the market.' 
 
 ' Yes,' interrupted Mrs. Bunker quickly, but 
 emphatically, * the fishing interest ought to be 
 American and protected by the State, with 
 regular charters and treaties.' 
 
 ' I say, Mollie,' said her astonished but 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 169 
 
 admiring husband, * you've been readin' the 
 papers or listenin' to stump speakin', sure.' 
 
 ' Go on,' returned Mrs. Bunker impatiently, 
 ' and say what happened next.' 
 
 1 Well,' returned Zephas, ' I first thought, you 
 see, that it had suthin to do with that Marion 
 business, particklerly ez folks allowed he was 
 hidin' somewhere yet, and they wanted me to run 
 him off. So I thought Rider might as well know 
 that I wasn't to be bribed, so I ups and tells him 
 how I'd been lyin' off Sancelito the other day 
 workin' for the other side agin him. With that 
 he laughs, says he didn't want any better friends 
 than me, but that I must be livin' in the backwoods 
 not to know that Wynyard Marion had escaped, 
 and was then at sea on his way to Mexico or 
 Central America. Then we agreed to terms, and 
 the long and short of it is, Mollie, that I'm to have 
 the schooner with a hundred and fifty dollars a 
 month, and 10 per cent, shares after a year ! 
 Looks like biz, eh, Mollie, old girl ? but you don't 
 seem pleased.' 
 
 She had put aside the arm with which he 
 was drawing her to him, and had turned her white 
 face away to the window. So he had gone this 
 stranger this one friend of her life she would 
 never see him again, and all that would ever come 
 of it was this pecuniary benefit to her husband, 
 
i;o THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 who had done nothing. He would not even offer 
 her money, but he had managed to pay his debt 
 to her in this way that their vulgar poverty would 
 appreciate. And this was the end of her dream ! 
 
 ' You don't seem to take it in, Mollie,' con- 
 tinued the surprised Zephas. ' It means a house 
 in 'Frisco and a little cabin for you on the 
 schooner when you like.' 
 
 * I don't want it ! I won't have it ! I shall stay 
 here,' she burst out with a half-passionate, half- 
 childish cry, and ran into her bedroom, leaving 
 the astonished Zephas helpless in his awkward 
 consternation. 
 
 ' By Gum! I must take her to 'PVisco right 
 off, or she'll be havin' the high strikes here alone. 
 I oughter knowed it would come to this ! ' But 
 although he consulted ' Cap ' Simmons the next 
 day, who informed him it was all woman's ways 
 when ' struck,' and advised him to pay out all the 
 line he could at such delicate moments, she had no 
 recurrence of the outbreak. On the contrary, for 
 days and weeks following, she seemed calmer, 
 older, and more ' growed up ; ' although she re- 
 sisted changing her sea-shore dwelling for San 
 Francisco she accompanied him on 'one or two of 
 his ' deep sea ' trips down the coast, and seemed 
 happier on their Southern limits. She had taken 
 to reading the political papers and speeches, and 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 171 
 
 some cheap American histories. Captain Bunker's 
 crew, profoundly convinced that their skipper's 
 wife was a ' woman's rights ' fanatic, with the 
 baleful qualities of a 'sea lawyer' superadded, 
 marvelled at his bringing her. 
 
 It was on returning home from one of these 
 
 HE CONSULTED ' CAP ' SIMMONS 
 
 trips that they touched briefly at San Francisco, 
 where the Secretary of the Fishing Company 
 came on board. Mrs. Bunker was startled to 
 recognise in him one of the two gentlemen who 
 had taken Mr. Marion off in the boat, but as he 
 did not appear to recognise her even after an 
 awkward introduction by her husband, she would 
 
172 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 have recovered her equanimity but for a singular 
 incident. As her husband turned momentarily 
 away, the Secretary, with a significant gesture, 
 
 SLIPPED A LETTER INTO HER HAND 
 
 slipped a letter into her hand. She felt the blood 
 rush to her face as, with a smile, he moved away 
 to follow her husband. She came down to the 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 173 
 
 little cabin and impatiently tore open the envelope, 
 which bore no address. A small folded note con- 
 tained the following lines : 
 
 1 I never intended to burden you with my con- 
 fidence, but the discretion, tact, and courage you 
 displayed on our first meeting, and what I know 
 of your loyalty since, have prompted me to trust 
 myself again to your kindness, even though you 
 are now aware whom you have helped, and the risks 
 you ran. My friends wish to communicate with 
 me and to forward to me, from time to time, 
 certain papers of importance, which, owing to the 
 tyrannical espionage of the Government, would be 
 discovered and stopped in passing through the 
 Express or Post Office. These papers will be 
 left at your house, but here I must trust entirely 
 to your wit and judgment as to the way in which 
 they should be delivered to my agent at the nearest 
 Mexican port. To facilitate your action, your 
 husband will receive directions to pursue his course 
 as far south as Todos Santos, where a boat will be 
 ready to take charge of them when he is sighted. 
 I know I am asking a great favour, but I have 
 such confidence in you that I do not even ask 
 you to commit yourself to a reply to this. If it can 
 be done I know that you will do it ; if it cannot, I 
 will understand and appreciate the reason why. I 
 
174 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BU^ 7 KER 
 
 will only ask you that when you are ready to receive 
 the papers you will fly a small red pennant from 
 the little flagstaff among the rocks. Believe me, 
 your friend and grateful debtor, 
 
 ' W. M.' 
 
 Mrs. Bunker cast a hasty glance around her, 
 and pressed the letter to her lips. It was a sudden 
 consummation of her vaguest, half-formed wishes, 
 the realisation of her wildest dreams ! To be the 
 confidante of the gallant but melancholy hero in his 
 lonely exile and persecution was to satisfy all the 
 unformulated romantic fancies of her girlish read- 
 ing ; to be" later, perhaps, the Flora Macdonald of 
 a middle-aged Prince Charlie did not, however, 
 evoke any ludicrous associations in her mind. 
 Her feminine fancy exalted the escaped duellist 
 and alleged assassin into a social martyr. His 
 actual small political intrigues and ignoble aims of 
 office seemed to her little different from those 
 aspirations of royalty which she had read about 
 as perhaps they were. Indeed, it is to be feared 
 that in foolish little Mrs. Bunker Wynyard Marion 
 had found the old feminine adoration of pretension 
 and privilege which every rascal has taken advan- 
 tage of since the flood. 
 
 Howbeit, the next morning after she had 
 returned and Zephas had sailed away, she flew a 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 175 
 
 red bandanna handkerchief on the little flagstaff 
 before the house. A few hours later, a boat 
 appeared mysteriously from around the Point. 
 Its only occupant a common sailor asked her 
 name, and handed her a sealed package. Mrs. 
 Bunker's invention had already been at work. 
 She had created an aunt in Mexico, for whom she 
 had, with some ostentation, made some small 
 purchases while in San Francisco. When her 
 husband spoke of going as far south as Todos 
 Santos, she begged him to deliver the parcel to 
 her aunt's messenger, and even addressed it 
 boldly to her. Inside the outer wrapper she 
 wrote a note to Marion, which, with a new and 
 amazing diffidence, she composed and altered a 
 dozen times, at last addressing the following in a 
 large, school-girl hand : * Sir, I obey your com- 
 mands to the last. Whatever your oppressors or 
 enemies may do, you can always rely and trust 
 upon She who in deepest sympathy signs herself 
 ever, Mollie Rosalie MacEwan.' The substitution 
 of her maiden name in full seemed in her simplicity 
 to be a delicate exclusion of her husband from the 
 affair, and a certain disguise of herself to alien 
 eyes. The superscription, ' To Mrs. Marion 
 MacEwan from Mollie Bunker, to be called for 
 by hand at Todos Santos,' also struck her as a 
 marvel of ingenuity. The package was safely 
 
i;6 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 and punctually delivered by Zephas, who brought 
 back a small packet directed to her, which on 
 private examination proved to contain a letter 
 addressed to ' J. E. Kirby, to be called for,' with 
 the hurried line: 'A thousand thanks, W. M.' 
 Mrs. Bunker drew a long, quick breath. He 
 
 might have written more ; he might have but 
 
 the wish remained still unformulated. The next 
 day she ran up a signal ; the same boat and 
 solitary rower appeared around the Point, and 
 took the package. A week later, when her 
 husband was ready for sea, she again hoisted her 
 signal. It brought a return package for Mexico, 
 which she enclosed and re-addressed, and gave 
 to her husband. The recurrence of this incident 
 apparently struck a bright idea from the simple 
 Zephas. 
 
 1 Look here, Mollie, why don't you come 
 yourself and see your aunt. I can't go into port 
 without a licence, and them port charges cost a 
 heap o' red tape, for they've got a Filibuster 
 scare on down there just now, but you can go 
 ashore in the boat and I'll get permission from 
 the Secretary to stand off and wait for you there 
 for twenty-four hours.' Mrs. Bunker flushed and 
 paled at the thought. She could see him ! The 
 letter would be sufficient excuse, the distrust 
 suggested by her husband would give colour to 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 177 
 
 her delivering it in person. There was perhaps a 
 brief twinge of conscience in taking this advantage 
 of Zephas's kindness, but the next moment, with 
 that peculiar logic known only to the sex, she 
 made the unfortunate man's suggestion a condo- 
 nation of her deceit. She hadn't asked to go ; 
 he had offered to take her. He had only him- 
 self to thank. 
 
 Meantime the political excitement in which she 
 had become a partisan without understanding or 
 even conviction, presently culminated with the Pre- 
 sidential campaign and the election of Abraham 
 Lincoln. The intrigues of Southern statesmen 
 were revealed in open expression, and echoed in 
 California by those citizens of Southern birth and 
 extraction who had long held place, power, and 
 opinion there. There were rumours of secession, 
 of California joining the South, or of her founding 
 an independent Pacific Empire. A note from ' J. 
 E. Kirby' informed Mrs. Bunker that she was to 
 carefully retain any correspondence that might be 
 in her hands until further orders, almost at the 
 same time that Zephas as regretfully told her that 
 his projected Southern trip had been suspended. 
 Mrs. Bunker was disappointed, and yet, in some 
 singular conditions of her feelings, felt relieved 
 that her meeting with Marion was postponed. It 
 is to be feared that some dim conviction, unworthy 
 
 N 
 
1 78 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 a partisan, that in the magnitude of political events 
 her own petty personality might be overlooked 
 by her hero, tended somewhat to her resignation. 
 Meanwhile the seasons had changed. The 
 winter rains had set in ; the Trade winds had 
 shifted to the south-east, and the cottage, although 
 strengthened, enlarged, and made more com- 
 fortable through the good fortunes of the Bunkers, 
 was no longer sheltered by the cliff, but was 
 exposed to the full strength of the Pacific gales. 
 There were long nights when she could hear the 
 rain fall monotonously on the shingles, or startle 
 her with a short, sharp reveille on the windows ; 
 there were brief days of flying clouds and drifting 
 sunshine, and intervals of dull grey shadow, when 
 the heaving white breakers beyond the gate 
 slowly lifted themselves and sank before her like 
 wraiths of warning. At such times, in her ac- 
 cepted solitude, Mrs. Bunker gave herself up to 
 strange moods and singular visions ; the more 
 audacious and more striking it seemed to her 
 from their very remoteness, and the difficulty she 
 was beginning to have in materialising them. 
 The actual personality of Wynyard Marion, as she 
 knew it in her one interview, had become very 
 shadowy and faint in the months that passed, yet 
 when the days were heavy she sometimes saw her- 
 self standing by his side in some vague tropical 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 179 
 
 surroundings, and hailed by the multitude as the 
 faithful wife and consort of the great Leader, Pre- 
 sident, Emperor she knew not what ! Exactly 
 how this was to be managed, and the manner of 
 Zephas's effacement from the scene, never 
 troubled her childish fancy, and, it is but fair to 
 say, her woman's conscience. In the logic before 
 alluded to, it seemed to her that all ethical 
 responsibility for her actions rested with the 
 husband who had unduly married her. Nor were 
 those visions always roseate. In the wild decla- 
 mation of that exciting epoch which filled the 
 newspapers, there was talk of short shrift with 
 traitors. So there were days when the sudden 
 onset of a squall of hail against her window caused 
 her to start as if she had heard the sharp fusillade 
 of that file of muskets of which she had sometimes 
 read in history. 
 
 One day she had a singular fright. She had 
 heard the sound of oars falling with a precision 
 and regularity unknown to her. She was startled 
 to see the approach of a large eight-oar barge 
 rowed by men in uniform, with two officers 
 wrapped in cloaks in the stern sheets, and before 
 them the glitter of musket barrels. The two 
 officers appeared to be conversing earnestly, and 
 occasionally pointing to the shore and the bluff 
 above. For an instant she trembled, and then an 
 
i8o 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 instinct of revolt and resistance followed. She 
 hurriedly removed the ring, which she usually 
 wore when alone, from her finger, slipped it with 
 the packet under the mattress of her bed, and 
 prepared with blazing eyes to face the intruders. 
 But when the boat was beached, the two officers, 
 
 * THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY,' SHE SAID 
 
 with scarcely a glance towards the cottage, pro- 
 ceeded leisurely along the shore. Relieved, yet 
 it must be confessed a little piqued at their in- 
 difference, she snatched up her hat and sallied 
 forth to confront them. 
 
 * I suppose you don't know that this is private 
 property ? ' she said sharply. 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS, BUNKER 18 1 
 
 The group halted and turned towards her. 
 The orderly, who was following, turned his face 
 aside and smiled. The younger officer demurely 
 lifted his cap. The elder, grey, handsome, in a 
 general's uniform, after a moment's half-astounded, 
 half-amused scrutiny of the little figure, gravely 
 raised his gauntleted fingers in a military salute. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, madam, but I am afraid 
 we never even thought of that. We are making 
 a preliminary survey for the Government with a 
 possible view of fortifying the bluff. It is very 
 doubtful if you will be disturbed in any rights 
 you may have, but if you are, the Govern- 
 ment will not fail to make it good to you.' 
 He turned carelessly to the aide beside him. 
 ' I suppose the bluff is quite inaccessible from 
 here?' 
 
 'I don't know about that, general. They say 
 that Marion, after he killed Henderson, escaped 
 down this way,' said the young man. 
 
 ( Indeed what good was that ? How did he 
 get away from here ? ' 
 
 * They say that Mrs. Fairfax was hanging 
 round in a boat, waiting for him. The story of 
 the escape is all out now.' 
 
 They moved away with a slight perfunctory 
 bow to Mrs. Bunker, only the younger officer 
 noting that the pert, pretty little Western woman 
 
1 82 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 wasn't as sharp and snappy to his superior as she 
 had at first promised to be. 
 
 She turned back to the cottage astounded, 
 angry, and vaguely alarmed. Who was this Mrs. 
 Fairfax who had usurped her fame and solitary 
 devotion ? There was no woman in the boat that 
 took him off; it was equally well known that he 
 went in the ship alone. If they had heard that 
 some woman was with him here why should 
 they have supposed it was Mrs. Fairfax ? Zephas 
 might know something but he was away. The 
 thought haunted her that day and the next. On 
 the third came a more startling incident. 
 
 She had been wandering along the edge of 
 her domain in a state of restlessness which had 
 driven her from the monotony of the house when 
 she heard the barking of the big Newfoundland 
 dog which Zephas had lately bought for protection 
 and company. She looked up and saw the boat 
 and its solitary rower at the landing. She ran 
 quickly to the house to bring the packet. As 
 she entered she started back in amazement. For 
 the sitting-room was already in possession of a 
 woman who was seated calmly by the table. 
 
 The stranger turned on Mrs. Bunker that 
 frankly insolent glance and deliberate examination 
 which only one woman can give another. In that 
 glance Mrs. Bunker felt herself in the presence of 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 183 
 
 a superior, even if her own eyes had not told her 
 that in beauty, attire and bearing the intruder 
 was of a type and condition far beyond her own, 
 or even that of any she had known. It was the 
 more crushing that there also seemed to be in 
 this haughty woman the same incongruousness 
 and sharp contrast to the plain and homely 
 surroundings of the cottage that she remembered 
 in him. 
 
 ' Yo' aw Mrs. Bunker, I believe,' she said in 
 languid Southern accents. * How de doh ? ' 
 
 4 I am Mrs. Bunker,' said Mrs. Bunker shortly. 
 
 4 And so this is where Cunnle Marion stopped 
 when he waited fo' the boat to take him off,' said 
 the stranger, glancing lazily around, and delaying 
 with smiling insolence the explanation she knew 
 Mrs. Bunker was expecting. ' The Cunnle said 
 it was a pooh enough place, but I don't see it. I 
 reckon, however, he was too worried to judge 
 and glad enough to get off. Yo' ought to have 
 made him talk he generally don't want much 
 prompting to talk to women, if they're pooty.' 
 
 ' He didn't seem in a hurry to go,' said Mrs. 
 Bunker indignantly. The next moment she saw 
 her error, even before the cruel, handsome smile 
 of her unbidden guest revealed it. 
 
 'I thought so,' she said lazily; * this is the 
 place and here's where the Cunnle stayed. Only 
 
1 84 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 yo' oughtn't have given him and yo' self away to 
 the first stranger quite so easy. The Cunnle 
 might have taught yo' that the two or three hours 
 he was with yo'.' 
 
 ' What do you want with me ? ' demanded 
 Mrs. Bunker angrily. 
 
 ' I want a letter yo' have for me from Cunnle 
 Marion.' 
 
 ' I have nothing for you,' said Mrs. Bunker. 
 k I don't know who you are.' 
 
 * You ought to, considering you've been acting 
 as messenger between the Cunnle and me,' said 
 the lady coolly. 
 
 ' That's not true,' said Mrs. Bunker hotly, to 
 combat an inward sinking. 
 
 The lady rose with a lazy, languid grace, 
 walked to the door and called still lazily, ' O 
 
 Pedro ! ' 
 
 The solitary rower clambered up the rocks and 
 appeared on the cottage threshold. 
 
 * Is this the lady who gave you the letters for 
 me and to whom you took mine ? ' 
 
 * Si, Senora* 
 
 1 They were addressed to a Mr. Kirby,' said 
 Mrs. Bunker sullenly. ' How was I to know they 
 were for Mrs. Kirby ? ' 
 
 ' Mr. Kirby, Mrs. Kirby and myself are all 
 the same. You don't suppose the Cunnle would 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 185 
 
 give my real name and address ? Did you address 
 yo'r packet to his real name or to someone else ? 
 Did you let your husband know who they were 
 for?' 
 
 Oddly, a sickening sense of the meanness of all 
 these deceits and subterfuges suddenly came over 
 Mrs, Bunker. Without replying she went to her 
 bedroom and returned with Colonel Marion's 
 last letter, which she tossed into her visitor's 
 lap. 
 
 * Thank yo', Mrs. Bunker. I'll be sure to tell 
 the Cunnle how careful yo' were not to give up 
 his correspondence to everybody. It'll please him 
 mo' than to hear yo' are wearing his ring which 
 everybody knows before people.' 
 
 * He gave it to me he he knew I wouldn't 
 take money,' said Mrs. Bunker indignantly. 
 
 ' He didn't have any to give,' said the lady 
 slowly, as she removed the envelope from her 
 letter and looked up with a dazzling but cruel 
 smile. ' A So'th'n gentleman don't fill up his 
 pockets when he goes out to fight. He don't 
 tuck his maw's Bible in his breast-pocket, clap his 
 dear auntie's locket big as a cheese plate over his 
 heart, nor let his sole leather cigyar case that 
 his gyrl gave him lie round him in spots when 
 he goes out to take another gentleman's fire. He 
 leaves that to Yanks ! ' 
 
1 86 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. 1WXKER 
 
 1 Did you come here to insult my husband ? ' 
 said Mrs. Bunker in the rage of desperation. 
 
 ' To insult yo' husband ! Well I came here 
 to get a letter that his wife received from his 
 political and natural enemy and perhaps 7 didY 
 With a side glance at Mrs. Bunker's crimson 
 cheek she added carelessly, ' I have nothing 
 against Captain Bunker, he's a straightforward 
 man and must go with his kind. He helped those 
 hounds of Vigilantes because he believes in them. 
 We couldn't bribe him if we wanted to. And we 
 don't.' 
 
 If she only knew something of this woman's 
 relations to Marion which she only instinctively 
 suspected and could retaliate upon her, Mrs. 
 Bunker felt she would have given up her life at 
 that moment. 
 
 ' Colonel Marion seems to find plenty that he 
 can bribe,' she said roughly, 'and I've yet to know 
 who you are to sit in judgment on them. You've 
 got your letter, take it and go ! When he wants 
 to send you another through me, somebody else 
 must come for it, not you. That's all ! ' 
 
 She drew back as if to let the intruder pass, 
 but the lady, without moving a muscle, finished 
 the reading of her letter, then stood up quietly 
 and began carefully to draw her handsome cloak 
 over her shoulders. * Yo' want to know who I 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 187 
 
 am, Mrs. Bunker/ she said, arranging the velvet 
 collar under her white oval chin. ' Well, I'm a 
 So'th'n woman from Figinya, and I'm Figinyan 
 first, last, and all the time.' She shook out her 
 sleeves and the folds of her cloak. ' I believe in State 
 rights and slavery if you know what that means. 
 I hate the North, I hate the East, I hate the West. 
 I hate this nigger Government, I'd kill that man 
 Lincoln quicker than lightning ! ' She began to 
 draw down the fingers of her gloves, holding her 
 shapely hands upright before her. ' I'm hard and 
 fast to the Cause. I gave up house and niggers 
 for it.' She began to button her gloves at the 
 wrist with some difficulty, tightly setting together 
 her beautiful lips as she did so. * I gave up my 
 husband for it, and I went to the man who loved 
 it better and had risked more for it than ever he 
 had. Cunnle Marion's my friend. I'm Mrs. 
 Fairfax, Josephine Hardee that was ; his disciple 
 and follower. Well, maybe those puritanical 
 No'th'n folks might give it another name ! ' 
 
 She moved slowly towards the door, but on 
 the threshold paused, as Colonel Marion had, and 
 came back to Mrs. Bunker with an outstretched 
 hand. ' I don't see that yo' and me need quo'll. 
 I didn't come here for that. I came here to see 
 yo'r husband, and seeing yd I thought it was 
 only right to talk squarely to yo', as yo' under- 
 
1 88 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS, BUNKER 
 
 stand I wouldnt talk to yo'r husband. Mrs. 
 Bunker, I want yo'r husband to take me away 
 I want him to take me to the Cunnle. If I tried 
 to go in any other way I'd be watched, spied upon 
 and followed, and only lead those hounds on his 
 track. I don't expect yo' to ask yo' husband for 
 me, but only not to interfere when I do.' 
 
 There was a touch of unexpected weakness in 
 her voice and a look of pain in her eyes which 
 was not unlike what Mrs. Bunker had seen and 
 pitied in Marion. But they were the eyes of a 
 woman who had humbled her, and Mrs. Bunker 
 would have been unworthy her sex if she had not 
 felt a cruel enjoyment in it. Yet the dominance 
 of the stranger was still so strong that she did not 
 dare to refuse the proffered hand. She, however, 
 slipped the ring from her finger, and laid it in 
 Mrs. Fairfax's palm. 
 
 ' You can take that with you,' she said, with a 
 desperate attempt to imitate the other's previous 
 indifference. * I shouldn't like to deprive you and 
 your friend of the opportunity of making use of it 
 again. As for my husband, I shall say nothing of 
 you to him as long as you say nothing to him of 
 me which I suppose is what you mean.' 
 
 The insolent look came back to Mrs. Fairfax's 
 face. * I reckon yo're right,' she said quietly, 
 putting the ring in her pocket as she fixed her 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 189 
 
 dark eyes on Mrs. Bunker, * and the ring may be 
 of use again. Good-bye, Mrs. Bunker.' 
 
 She waved her hand carelessly, and turning 
 away passed out of the house. A moment later 
 the boat and its two occupants pushed from the 
 shore, and disappeared round the Point. 
 
 Then Mrs. Bunker looked round the room, 
 and down upon her empty finger, and knew that 
 it was the end of her dream. It was all over now 
 indeed, with the picture of that proud, insolent 
 woman before her she wondered if it had ever 
 begun. This was the woman she had allowed 
 herself to think she might be. This was the 
 woman he- was thinking of when he sat there ; 
 this was the Mrs. Fairfax the officers had spoken 
 of, and who had made her Mrs. Bunker the go- 
 between for their love-making ! All the work 
 that she had done for him, the deceit she had 
 practised on her husband, was to bring him and 
 this woman together ! And they both knew it, 
 and had no doubt laughed at her and her preten- 
 sions ! 
 
 It was with a burning cheek that she thought 
 how she had intended to go to Marion, and 
 imagined herself arriving perhaps to find that 
 shameless woman already there. In her vague 
 unformulated longings she had never before 
 realised the degradation into which her foolish 
 
190 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS, BUNKER 
 
 romance might lead her. She saw it now ; that 
 humiliating moral lesson we are all apt to ex- 
 perience in the accidental display of our own 
 particular vices in the person we hate, she had 
 just felt in Mrs. Fairfax's presence. With it came 
 the paralysing fear of her husband's discovery of 
 her secret. Secure as she had been in her dull 
 belief that he had in some way wronged her by 
 marrying her, she for the first time began to doubt 
 if this condoned the deceit she had practised on 
 him. The tribute Mrs. Fairfax had paid him 
 this appreciation of his integrity and honesty by 
 an enemy and a woman like herself troubled 
 her, frightened her, and filled her with her first 
 jealousy ! What if this woman should tell him 
 all ; what if she should make use of him as Marion 
 had of her! Zephas was a strong Northern 
 partisan, but was he proof against the guileful 
 charms of such a devil ? She had never thought 
 before of questioning his fidelity to her ; she sud- 
 denly remembered now some rough pleasantries 
 of Captain Simmons in regard to the inconstancy 
 of his calling. No ! there was but one thing for 
 her to do ; she would make a clean breast to him ; 
 she would tell him everything she had done except 
 the fatal fancy that compelled her to it ! She 
 began to look for his coming now with alternate 
 hope and fear with unabated impatience ! The 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 191 
 
 night that he should have arrived passed slowly ; 
 morning came, but not Zephas. When the mist 
 had lifted she ran impatiently to the rocks and 
 gazed anxiously towards the lower bay. There 
 were a few grey sails scarce distinguishable above 
 the greyer water but they were not his. She 
 glanced half mechanically seawards, and her eyes 
 became suddenly fixed. There was no mistake ! 
 She knew the rig! she could see the familiar 
 white lap-streak as the vessel careened on the 
 starboard tack it was her husband's schooner 
 slowly creeping out of the Golden Gate ! 
 
 PART III 
 
 HER first wild impulse was to run to the cove, for 
 the little dingey always moored there, and to 
 desperately attempt to overtake him. But the 
 swift consciousness of its impossibility was 
 followed by a dull, bewildering torpor, that kept 
 her motionless, helplessly following the vessel 
 with straining eyes, as if they could evoke some 
 response from its decks. She was so lost in this 
 occupation that she did not see that a pilot boat 
 nearly abreast of the cove had put out a two- 
 oared gig, which was pulling quickly for the rocks. 
 When she saw it, she trembled with the instinct 
 that it brought her intelligence. She was right ; 
 
192 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 it was a brief note from her husband, informing 
 her that he had been hurriedly despatched on a 
 short sea cruise ; that in order to catch the tide he 
 had not time to go ashore at the bluff, but he 
 would explain everything on his return. Her 
 relief was only partial ; she was already expe- 
 rienced enough in his vocation to know that the 
 excuse was a feeble one. He could easily have 
 * fetched ' the bluff in tacking out of the Gate and 
 have signalled to her to board him in her own 
 boat. The next day she locked up her house, 
 rowed round the Point to the Embar coder o, where 
 the Bay steamboats occasionally touched and took 
 up passengers to San Francisco. Captain Sim- 
 mons had not seen her husband this last trip ; 
 indeed, did not know that he had gone out of the 
 Bay. Mrs. Bunker was seized with a desperate 
 idea. She called upon the Secretary of the 
 Fishing Trust. That gentleman was business- 
 like, but neither expansive nor communicative. 
 Her husband had not been ordered out to sea by 
 them ; she ought to know that Captain Bunker 
 was now his own master, choosing his own fishing 
 grounds, and his own times and seasons. He was 
 not aware of any secret service for the Company 
 in which Captain Bunker was engaged. He 
 hoped Mrs. Bunker would distinctly remember 
 that the little matter of the duel to which she re- 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 193 
 
 ferrecl was an old bygone affair, and never any- 
 thing but a personal matter, in which the Fishery 
 had no concern whatever, and in which he certainly 
 should not again engage. lie would advise Mrs. 
 Bunker, if she valued her own good, and espe- 
 cially her husband's, to speedily forget all about 
 it. These were ugly times, as it was. If Mrs. 
 Bunker's services had not been properly rewarded 
 or considered it was certainly a great shame, but 
 really he could not be expected to make it good. 
 Certain parties had cost him trouble enough al- 
 ready. Besides, really, she must see that his 
 position between her husband, whom he respected, 
 and a certain other party was a delicate one. 
 But Mrs. Bunker heard no more. She turned 
 and ran down the staircase, carrying with her a 
 burning cheek and blazing eye that somewhat 
 startled the complacent official. 
 
 She did not remember how she got home 
 again. She had a vague recollection of passing 
 through the crowded streets, wondering if the 
 people knew that she was an outcast, deserted by 
 her husband, deceived by her ideal hero, repudiated 
 by her friends ! Men had gathered in knots 
 before the newspaper offices, excited and ges- 
 ticulating over the bulletin boards that had such 
 strange legends as ' The Crisis,' ' Details of an 
 Alleged Conspiracy to Overthrow the Govern- 
 
194 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 ment,' ' The Assassin of Henderson to the Fore 
 Again,' ' Rumoured Arrests on the Mexican 
 Frontier.' Sometimes she thought she understood 
 the drift of them ; even fancied they were the 
 outcome of her visit as if her very presence 
 carried treachery and suspicion with it but 
 
 MEN HAD GATHERED IN KNOTS 
 
 generally they only struck her benumbed sense as 
 a dull, meaningless echo of something that had 
 happened long ago. When she reached her 
 house, late that night, the familiar solitude of 
 shore and sea gave her a momentary relief, but 
 with it came the terrible conviction that she had 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. HUNKER 195 
 
 forfeited her right to it, that when her husband 
 came back it would be hers no longer, and that 
 with their meeting she would know it no more, 
 For through all her childish vacillation and 
 imaginings she managed to cling to one steadfast 
 resolution. She would tell him everything, and 
 know the worst. Perhaps he would never come; 
 perhaps she should not be alive to meet him. 
 
 And so the days and nights slowly passed. 
 The solitude which her previous empty deceit had 
 enabled her to fill with such charming visions now 
 in her awakened remorse seemed only to protract 
 her misery. Had she been a more experienced, 
 though even a more guilty, woman she would 
 have suffered less. Without sympathy or counsel, 
 without even the faintest knowledge of the world 
 or its standards of morality to guide her, she 
 accepted her isolation and friendlessness as a 
 necessary part of her wrongdoing. Her only 
 criterion was her enemy Mrs. Fairfax and she 
 could seek her relief by joining her lover ; but 
 Mrs. Bunker knew now that she herself had never 
 had one and was alone ! Mrs. Fairfax had broken 
 openly with her husband ; but she had deceived 
 hers, and the experience and reckoning were still 
 to come. In her miserable confession it was not 
 strange that this half child, half woman, some- 
 times looked towards that grey sea, eternally 
 
 O 2 
 
196 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 waiting for her that sea which had taken every- 
 thing from her and given her nothing in return 
 for an obliterating, and perhaps exonerating 
 death! 
 
 The third day of her waiting isolation was 
 
 THAT GREY SEA, ETERNALLY WAITING FOR HER 
 
 broken upon by another intrusion. The morning 
 had been threatening, with an opaque, motionless, 
 livid arch above, which had taken the place of the 
 usual flying scud and shaded cloud masses of the 
 rainy season. The whole outlying ocean, too, 
 beyond the bar, appeared nearer, and even seemed 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 197 
 
 to be lifted higher than the Bay itself, and was lit 
 every now and then with 
 wonderful clearness by long 
 flashes of breaking foam like 
 summer lightning. She knew 
 that this meant a south- 
 wester, and began, with a 
 certain mechanical delibera- 
 tion, to set her 
 little domain in 
 order against the 
 coming gale. She 
 drove the cows to 
 
 the rude 
 among the 
 scrub oaks, 
 she collected 
 the goats and 
 corral, and 
 stock of fuel 
 She was 
 
 shrubbery 
 making slow 
 the wind 
 cove where 
 before she 
 dingey be- 
 
 shed 
 
 young kicls in the 
 replenished the 
 from the wood-pile, 
 quite hidden in the 
 when she saw a boat 
 headway against 
 towards the little 
 but a moment 
 had drawn up the 
 yond the reach 
 
 of breaking AGAINST THE COMING seas. It was a 
 
 GALE 
 
193 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 whale boat from Sancelito containing a few men. 
 As they neared the landing she recognised in 
 the man who seemed to be directing the boat 
 the second friend of Colonel Marion the man 
 who had come with the Secretary to take him off, 
 but whom she had never seen again. In her 
 present horror of that memory she remained 
 hidden, determined at all hazards to avoid a 
 meeting. When they had landed, one of the men 
 halted accidentally before the shrubbery where 
 she was concealed as he caught his first view of 
 the cottage, which had been invisible from the 
 point they had rounded. 
 
 4 Look here, Bragg,' he said, turning to 
 Marion's friend, in a voice which was distinctly 
 audible to Mrs. Bunker. ( What are we to say to 
 these people ? ' 
 
 4 There's only one,' returned the other. ' The 
 man's at sea. His wife's here. She's all right.' 
 
 4 You said she was one of us ? ' 
 
 4 After a fashion. She's the woman who 
 helped Marion when he was here. I reckon he 
 made it square with her from the beginning, for 
 she forwarded letters from him since. But you 
 can tell her as much or as little as you find neces- 
 sary when you see her.' 
 
 4 Yes, but we must settle that nozv,'suid Bragg 
 sharply, ' and I propose to tell her nothing. I'm 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 199 
 
 against having any more petticoats mixed up with 
 our affairs. I propose to make an examination of 
 the place without bothering our heads about her.' 
 
 * But we must give some reason for coming 
 here, and we must ask her to keep dark, or we'll 
 have her blabbing to the first person she meets,' 
 urged the other. 
 
 * She's not likely to see anybody before night, 
 when the brig will be in and the men and guns 
 landed. Move on, and let Jim take soundings off 
 the cove, while I look along the shore. It's just 
 as well that there's a house here, and a little cover 
 like this ' pointing to the shrubbery ' to keep 
 the men from making too much of a show until 
 after the earthworks are up. There are sharp 
 eyes over at the fort.' 
 
 * There don't seem to be anyone in the house 
 now/ returned the other after a moment's scrutiny 
 of the cottage, * or the woman would surely come 
 out at the barking of the dogs, even if she hadn't 
 seen us. Likely she's gone to Sancelito.' 
 
 * So much the better. Just as well that she 
 should know nothing until it happens. Afterwards 
 we'll settle with the husband for the price of pos- 
 session ; he has only a squatter's rights. Come 
 along ; we'll have bad weather before we get back 
 round the Point again, but so much the better, for 
 it will keep off any inquisitive longshore cruisers.' 
 
200 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 They moved away. But Mrs. Bunker, stung 
 through her benumbed and brooding consciousness, 
 and made desperate by this repeated revelation of 
 her former weakness, had heard enough to make 
 her feverish to hear more. She knew the intrica- 
 cies of the shrubbery thoroughly. She knew 
 every foot of shade and cover of the clearing, and 
 creeping like a cat from bush to bush she 
 managed, without being discovered, to keep the 
 party in sight and hearing all the time. It 
 required no great discernment, even for an 
 inexperienced woman like herself, at the end of 
 an hour, to gather their real purpose. It was to 
 prepare for the secret landing of an armed force, 
 disguised as labourers, who, under the outward 
 show of quarrying in the bluff, were to throw up 
 breastworks, and fortify the craggy shelf. The 
 landing was fixed for that night, and was to be 
 effected by a vessel now cruising outside the 
 Heads. 
 
 She understood it all now. She remembered 
 Marion's speech about the importance of the bluff 
 for military purposes ; she remembered the visit 
 of the officers from the fort opposite. The 
 strangers were stealing a march upon the Govern- 
 ment, and by night would be in possession. It 
 was perhaps an evidence of her newly-awakened 
 and larger comprehension that she took no thought 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 201 
 
 of her loss of home and property perhaps there 
 was little to draw her to it now but was conscious 
 only of a more terrible catastrophe a catastrophe 
 to which she was partly accessory, of which any 
 other woman would have warned her husband 
 or at least those officers of the Fort whose business 
 it was to Ah, yes ! the officers of the Fort only 
 just opposite to her ! She trembled, and yet 
 flushed with an inspiration. It was not too late 
 yet why not warn them now ? 
 
 But how ? A message sent by Sancelito and 
 the steamboat to San Francisco the usual way- 
 would not reach them to-night. To go herself, 
 rowing directly across in the dingey, would be the 
 only security of success. If she could do it ? It 
 was a long pull the sea was getting up but she 
 would try. 
 
 She waited until the last man had stepped into 
 the boat, in nervous dread of someone remaining. 
 Then, when the boat had vanished round the 
 Point again, she ran back to the cottage, arrayed 
 herself in her husband's pilot coat, hat and boots, 
 and launched the dingey. It was a heavy, slow, 
 but luckily a staunch and seaworthy, boat. It was 
 not until she was well off shore that she began to 
 feel the full fury of the wind and waves, and knew 
 the difficulty and danger of her undertaking. She 
 had decided that her shortest and most direct 
 
202 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 course was within a few points of the wind, but 
 the quartering of the waves on the broad bluff 
 bows of the boat tended to throw it to leeward, a 
 movement that, while it retarded her forward 
 progress, no doubt saved the little craft from 
 swamping. Again, the feebleness and shortness 
 of her stroke, which never 
 impelled her through a rising 
 wave, but rather lifted her 
 half-way up its face, pre- 
 vented the boat from taking 
 much water, while her stead- 
 fast gaze, fixed only on the 
 slowly-retreating shore, kept 
 her steering free from any 
 fatal nervous vacillation 
 which the sight of the 
 threatening seas on her bow 
 might have produced. Pre- 
 rj served through her very 
 
 ARRAYED 'HERSELF IN HER weakness, ignorance, and 
 HUSBAND'S PILOT COAT simplicity of purpose, the 
 dingey had all the security of a drifting boat, 
 yet retained a certain gentle but persistent 
 guidance. In this feminine fashion she made 
 enough headway to carry her abreast of the 
 Point, where she met the reflux current sweep- 
 ing round it that carried her well along into the 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 203 
 
 channel, now sluggish with the turn of the tide. 
 After half an hour's pulling, she was delighted 
 to find herself again in a reverse current, 
 abreast of her cottage, but steadily increasing 
 her distance from it. She was, in fact, on the 
 extreme outer edge of a vast whirlpool formed by 
 the force of the gale on a curving lee shore, and 
 was being carried to her destination in a semi- 
 circle around that bay which she never could have 
 crossed. She was moving now in a line with the 
 shore and the Fort, whose flagstaff, above its 
 green, square, and white quarters, she could see 
 distinctly, and whose lower water battery and 
 landing seemed to stretch out from the rocks 
 scarcely a mile ahead. Protected by the shore 
 from the fury of the wind, and even of the sea, her 
 progress was also steadily accelerated by the 
 velocity of the current, mingling with the ebbing 
 tide. A sudden fear seized her. She turned the 
 boat's head towards the shore, but it was swept 
 quickly round again ; she redoubled her exertions, 
 tugging frantically at her helpless oars. She only 
 succeeded in getting the boat into the trough of 
 the sea, where, after a lurch that threatened to 
 capsize it, it providentially swung around on its 
 short keel and began to drift stern on. She was 
 almost abreast of the battery now ; she could hear 
 the fitful notes of a bugle that seemed blown and 
 
204 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 scattered above her head ; she even thought she 
 could see some men in blue uniforms moving 
 along the little pier. She was passing it ; another 
 fruitless effort to regain her ground, but she was 
 swept along steadily towards the Gate, the 
 whitening bar and the open sea. 
 
 She knew now what it all meant. This was 
 what she had come for ; this was the end ' 
 Beyond, only a little beyond, just a few moments 
 longer to wait, and then, out there among the 
 breakers was the rest that she had longed for 
 but had not dared to seek. It was not her fault ; 
 they could not blame her. He would come back 
 and never know what had happened nor even 
 know how she had tried to atone for her deceit. 
 And he would find his house in possession of 
 of those devils! No! No! she must not die 
 yet, at least not until she had warned the Fort. 
 She seized the oars again with frenzied strength ; 
 the boat had stopped under the unwonted strain ; 
 staggered, tried to .rise in an uplifted sea, took 
 part of it over her bow, struck down Mrs. Bunker 
 under half a ton of blue water that wrested the 
 oars from her paralysed hands like playthings, 
 swept them over the gunwale, and left her lying 
 senseless in the bottom of the boat. 
 
 ***** 
 
 ' Hold har-rd or you'll run her down.' 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 205 
 
 ' Now then, Riley look alive is it slapin' ye 
 
 are ! 
 
 ' Hold yer jaw, Flanigan, and stand ready 
 with the boat hook. Now then, hold har-rd ! ' 
 
 The sudden jarring and tilting of the water- 
 logged boat, a sound of rasping timbers, the 
 
 
 STRUCK DOWN MRS. BUNKER 
 
 swarming of men in shirt sleeves and blue 
 trousers around her, seemed to rouse her momen- 
 tarily, but she again fainted away. 
 
 When she struggled back to consciousness once 
 more she was wrapped in a soldier's jacket, her 
 head pillowed on the shirt-sleeve of an artillery 
 corporal in the stern sheets of that eight-oared 
 
206 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 Government barge she had remembered. But the 
 only officer was a bare-headed, boyish lieutenant, 
 and the rowers were an athletic but unseamanlike 
 .crew of mingled artillerymen and infantry. 
 
 ' And where did ye 
 drift from, clarlint ? * 
 
 Mrs. Bunker bridled 
 feebly at the epithet. 
 
 ' I didn't drift. I was 
 going to the Fort.' 
 ' The Fort, is it ? ' 
 ' Yes. I want to see 
 the General.' 
 
 'Wadn't the Lifte- 
 nant do ye ? Or shure 
 there's the Adjutant ; 
 he's a foine man.' 
 
 1 Silence, Flanigan,' 
 said the young officer 
 sharply. Then turning 
 
 HER HEAD PILLOWED ON THE 
 SHIRT-SLEEVE OF AN ARTILLERY 
 CORPORAL 
 
 ' Don't mind him, but 
 let his wife take you to the canteen, when we get 
 in, and get you some dry clothes.' 
 
 But Mrs. Bunker, spurred to convalescence at 
 the indignity, protested stiffly, and demanded on 
 her arrival to be led at once to the General's 
 quarters. A few officers, who had been attracted 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 207 
 
 to the pier by the rescue, acceded to her 
 demand. 
 
 She recognised the grey-haired, handsome 
 man who had come ashore at her house. With a 
 touch of indignation at her treatment, she briefly 
 told her story. But the General listened coldly 
 and gravely with his eyes fixed upon her face. 
 
 ' You say you recognised in the leader of the 
 party a man you had seen before. Under what 
 circumstances ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Bunker hesitated with burning cheeks. 
 * He came to take Colonel Marion from our 
 place.' 
 
 ' When you were hiding him yes, we've 
 heard the story. Now, Mrs. Bunker, may I ask 
 you what you, as a Southern sympathiser, expect 
 to gain by telling me this story ? ' 
 
 But here Mrs. Bunker burst out. ' I am not 
 a Southern sympathiser ! Never ! Never ! 
 Never ! I'm a Union woman wife of a Northern 
 man. I helped that man before I knew who he 
 was. Any Christian, Northerner or Southerner, 
 would have done the same ! ' 
 
 Her sincerity and passion were equally un- 
 mistakable. The General rose, opened the door 
 of the adjoining room, said a few words to an 
 orderly on duty and returned. ' What you are 
 asking of me, Mrs. Bunker, is almost as extra- 
 
208 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 vagant and unprecedented as your story. You 
 must understand, as well as your husband, that if 
 I land a force on your property it will be to take 
 
 possession of it in 
 the name of the 
 Government, for 
 Government pur- 
 poses.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes,' said 
 \ Mrs. Bunker 
 
 eagerly ; ' I know 
 that. I am willing ; 
 Zephas will be 
 willing.' 
 
 1 And,' con- 
 tinued the General, 
 fixing his eyes on 
 her face, * you will 
 also understand 
 that I may be com- 
 pelled to detain you 
 here as a hostage 
 for the safety of my 
 
 HER SINCERITY AND PASSION WERE 
 EQUALLY UNMISTAKABLE 
 
 men. 
 
 ' Oh no ! no ! please ! ' said Mrs. Bunker, spring- 
 ing up with an imploring feminine gesture ; * I am 
 expecting my husband. He may be coming 
 back at any moment ; I must be there to see him 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 209 
 
 first \ Please let me go back, sir, with your men ; 
 put me anywhere ashore between them and those 
 men that are coming. Lock me up ; keep me a 
 prisoner in my own home ; do anything else if you 
 think I am deceiving you ; but don't keep me here 
 to miss him when he comes!' 
 
 ' But you can see him later,' said the General. 
 
 ' But I must see him first' said Mrs. Bunker 
 desperately. ' I must see him first, for for he 
 knows nothing of this. He knows nothing of my 
 helping Colonel Marion ; he knows nothing of 
 how foolish I have been, and he must not know 
 it from others ! There ! ' It was out at last. 
 She was sobbing now, but her pride was gone. 
 She felt relieved, and did not even notice the 
 presence of two or three other officers, who had 
 entered the room, exchanged a few hurried 
 words with their superior, and were gazing at her 
 in astonishment. 
 
 The General's brow relaxed, and he smiled. 
 ' Very well, Mrs. Bunker ; it shall be as you like, 
 then. You shall go and meet your husband with 
 Captain Jennings here' indicating one of the 
 officers * who will take charge of you and the 
 party.' 
 
 * And,' said Mrs. Bunker, looking imploringly 
 through her wet but pretty lashes at the officer, ' he 
 won't say anything to Zephas, either?' 
 
 p 
 
210 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 'Not a syllable,' said Captain Jennings gravely. 
 * But while the tug is getting ready, General, hadn't 
 Mrs. Bunker better go to Mrs. Flanigan ? ' 
 
 ' I think not,' said the General, with a 
 significant look at the officer as he gallantly 
 offered his arm to the astonished Mrs. Bunker. 
 * If she will allow me the plea- 
 sure of taking her to my wife.' 
 
 There was an equally marked 
 respect in the manner of the 
 men and officers as Mrs. Bunker 
 finally stepped on board the 
 steam tug that was to convey 
 the party across the turbulent 
 bay. But she heeded it not, 
 neither did she take any con- 
 cern of the still furious gale, the 
 difficult landing, the preterna- 
 tural activity of the band of 
 sappers, who seemed to work 
 magic with their picks and 
 shovels, the shelter tents that 
 arose swiftly around her, the sheds and bush 
 enclosures that were evoked from the very ground 
 beneath her feet ; the wonderful skill, order, and 
 discipline that in a few hours converted her 
 straggling dominion into a formal camp, even to 
 the sentinel, who was already calmly pacing the 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 21 i 
 
 rocks by the landing as if he had been doing it for 
 years ! Only one thing thrilled her the sudden 
 outburst, fluttering and snapping of the National 
 flag from her little flagstaff. He would see it 
 and perhaps be pleased ! 
 
 And indeed it seemed as if the men had caught 
 the infection of her anxiety, for when her strained 
 eyes could no longer pierce the murky twilight 
 settling over the Gate, one came running to her 
 to say that the look-out had just discovered 
 through his glass a close-reefed schooner running 
 in before the wind. It was her husband, and 
 scarcely an hour after night had shut in the 
 schooner had rounded to off the Point, dropped 
 her boat and sped away to anchorage. And then 
 Mrs. Bunker, running bareheaded down the rocks, 
 breaking in upon the hurried explanation of the 
 officer of the guard, threw herself upon her hus- 
 band's breast and sobbed and laughed as if her 
 heart would break ! 
 
 Nor did she scarcely hear his hurried comment 
 to the officer and unconscious corroboration of her 
 story : how a brig had raced them from the Gate, 
 was heading for the bar, but suddenly sheered off 
 and put away to sea again, as if from some signal 
 from the headland. ' Yes the bluff,' interrupted 
 Captain Jennings bitterly, ' I thought of that, but 
 the old man said it was more diplomatic just now 
 
 p 2 
 
212 
 
 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 to prevent an attempt than even to successfully 
 
 resist it.' 
 
 But when they were alone again in their little 
 
 cottage, and Zephas's honest eyes with no trace 
 
 of evil knowledge or suspicion in their homely, 
 
 neutral lightness were 
 looking into hers with 
 his usual simple trust- 
 fulness, Mrs. Bunker 
 trembled, whimpered, 
 and I grieve to say 
 basely funked her 
 boasted confession. But 
 here the Deity which 
 protects feminine weak- 
 ness intervened with the 
 usual miracle. As he 
 gazed at his wife's trou- 
 bled face, an apologetic 
 cloud came over his 
 rugged but open brow, 
 
 f 
 
 >*>' 
 
 THREW 
 
 HERSELF UPON HER HUS- 
 BAND'S BREAST 
 
 ward deprecating em- 
 barrassment suffused his eyes. * I declare to good- 
 ness, Mollie, but I must tell you suthin, although 
 I guess I didn't kalkilate to say a word about it. 
 But, darn it all, I can't keep it in. No ! Lookin' 
 inter that innercent face o' yourn ' pressing her 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. HUNKER 213 
 
 flushing cheeks between his cool brown hands 
 * and gazing inter them two truthful eyes ' 
 they blinked at this moment with a divine modesty 
 ' and thinkin' of what you've just did for your 
 kentry like them revolutionary women o' '76 
 I feel like a darned swab of a traitor myself. 
 Well ! what I want ter tell you is this : Ye know, 
 or ye've heard me 
 tell o' that Mrs. 
 Fairfax, as left her 
 husband for that 
 fire-eatin' Marion, 
 and stuck to hinii 
 through thick and! 
 thin, and stood 
 watch and watch 
 with him in this 
 
 howlin' Southern 
 
 '.. .- 
 
 rumpus they re 'GAZING INTER THEM TWO TRUTHFUL 
 
 kickin' up all along 
 
 the coast, as if she was a man herself. Well, jes 
 
 as I hauled up at the wharf at 'Frisco, she comes 
 
 aboard. 
 
 * " You're Cap Bunker?" she says. 
 
 ' " That's me, ma'am," I says. 
 
 ' " You're a Northern man and you go with your 
 kind," sez she ; " but you're a white man, and 
 thar's no cur blood in you." But you ain't listenin', 
 
214 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 Mollie you're dead tired, lass ' with a com- 
 miserating look at her now whitening face 'and 
 I'll haul in line and wait. Well, to cut it short, 
 she wanted me to take her down the coast a bit 
 to where she could join Marion. She said she'd 
 been shook by his friends, followed by spies and, 
 blame my skin, Mollie, ef that proud woman 
 didn't break down and cry like a baby. Now, 
 Mollie, what got me in all this, was that them 
 Chivalry folks ez was always jawin' about their 
 " Southern dames" and their " Ladye fairs," and 
 always runnin' that kind of bilge water outer their 
 scuppers whenever they careened over on a fair 
 wind was jess the kind to throw off on a woman 
 when they didn't want her, and I kinder thought 
 I'd like her to see the difference betwixt the 
 latitude o' Charleston and Cap Cod. So I told 
 her I didn't want the jewelry and dimons she 
 offered me, but if she would come down to the 
 wharf, after dark, I'd smuggle her aboard, and I'd 
 allow to the men that she was your auntie ez I 
 was givin' a free passage to ! Lord ! dear ! think 
 o' me takin' the name o' Mollie Bunker's aunt in 
 vain for that sort o' woman ! Think o' me,' con- 
 tinued Captain Bunker with a tentative chuckle, 
 ' sort o' pretendin' to hand yo'r auntie to Kernel 
 Marion for for his lady love ! I don't wonder 
 ye's half frighted and half laffin',' he added, as his 
 
THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 215 
 
 wife uttered a hysterical cry ; * it was awful ! But 
 it worked, and I got her off, and wot's more I got 
 her shipped to Mazatlan, where she'll join Marion, 
 and the two are goin' back to Virginy, where I 
 guess they won't trouble Californy again. Ye 
 know now, deary,' he went on, speaking with dif- 
 ficulty through Mrs. Bunker's clinging arms and 
 fast dripping tears, ' why I didn't heave to to say 
 "good-bye." But it's all over now I've made a 
 clean breast of it, Mollie and don't you cry ! ' 
 
 But it was not all over. For a moment later 
 Captain Bunker began to fumble in his waistcoat 
 pocket with the one hand that was not clasping 
 his wife's waist. ' One thing more, Mollie ; when 
 I left her and refused to take any of her dimons, 
 she put a queer sort o' ring into my hand, and 
 told me with a kind o' mischievious, bedevilin' 
 smile, that I must keep it to remember her by. 
 Here it is why, Mollie lass ! are you crazy ? ' 
 
 She had snatched it from his fingers and was 
 running swiftly from the cottage out into the 
 tempestuous night. He followed closely, until 
 she reached the edge of the rocks. And only 
 then, in the struggling, fast-flying moonlight, she 
 raised a passionate hand, and threw it far into the 
 sea ! 
 
 As he led her back to the cottage she said she 
 was jealous, and honest Captain Bunker, with his 
 
216 THE CONSPIRACY OF MRS. BUNKER 
 
 arm around her, felt himself the happiest man in 
 the world ! 
 
 * * # * # 
 
 From that day the flag flew regularly over the 
 rocky shelf, and, in time, bugles and morning drum- 
 beats were wafted from it to the decks of passing 
 
 
 THE FLAG FLEW REGULARLY OVER THE ROCKY SHELF 
 
 ships. For the Federal Government had adjudged 
 the land for its own use, paid Captain Bunker a 
 handsome sum for its possession, and had dis- 
 creetly hidden the little cottage of Mrs. Bunker 
 and its history for ever behind bastion and case- 
 mate. 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE 
 CAMP 
 
 PART I 
 
 THE tiny lights that had been far scattered and 
 intermittent as fire-flies all along the dark stream, 
 at last dropped out one by one, leaving only the 
 three windows of ' Park's Emporium ' to pierce 
 the profoundly wooded banks of the South Fork. 
 So all-pervading was the darkness that the mere 
 opening of the ' Emporium ' front door shot out 
 an illuminating shaft which revealed the whole 
 length of the little main street of ' Buckeye,' while 
 the simple passing of a single figure before one of 
 the windows momentarily eclipsed a third of the 
 settlement. This undue pre-eminence given to 
 the only three citizens of Buckeye who were still 
 up at ten o'clock seemed to be hardly justified by 
 their outward appearance, which was that of 
 ordinary long-bearded and long-booted river bar 
 miners. Two sat upon the counter with their 
 hands upon their knees, the third leaned beside 
 the open window. 
 
 It was very quiet. The faint, far barking of 
 
218 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 a dog, or an occasional subdued murmur from the 
 river shallows, audible only when the wind rose 
 slightly, helped to intensify their solitude. So 
 supreme had it become that when the man at the 
 window at last continued his conversation medi- 
 tatively, with his face towards it, he seemed to be 
 taking all Nature into his confidence. 
 
 1 The worst thing about it is, that the only way 
 we can keep her out of the settlement is by the 
 same illegal methods which we deplore in other 
 camps. We have always boasted that Buckeye 
 could get along without Vigilance Committees 
 or Regulators.' 
 
 * Yes, and that was because we started it on 
 the principle of original selection, which we are 
 only proposing to continue,' replied one of the 
 men on the counter. ' So there's nothing wrong 
 about our sending a deputation to wait upon her, 
 to protest against her settling here, and give her 
 our reasons.' 
 
 ' Yes, only it has all the impudence without 
 the pluck of the Regulators. You demand what 
 you are afraid to enforce. Come, Parks, you 
 know she has all the rights on her side. Look at 
 it squarely. She proposes to open a store and 
 sell liquor and cigars, which she serves herself, 
 in the broken-down Tienda which was regularly 
 given to her people by the Spanish grantee of the 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 219 
 
 land we're squatting on. It's not her fault but 
 ours if we've adopted a line of rules, which don't 
 agree with hers, to govern the settlers on her 
 land, nor should she be compelled to follow them. 
 Nor because we justify our squatting here, on the 
 ground that the Spanish grant isn't confirmed yet, 
 can we forbid her squatting under the same right.' 
 
 ' But look at the moral question, Brace. 
 Consider the example ; the influence of such a 
 shop, kept by such a woman, on the community ! 
 We have the right to protect ourselves the 
 majority.' 
 
 ' That's the way the lynchers talk/ returned 
 Brace. 'And I'm not so sure about there being 
 any moral question yet. You are assuming too 
 much. There is no reason why she shouldn't run 
 the Tienda as decently -barring the liquor sale, 
 which, however, is legal, and for which she can 
 get a licence as a man could, and without inter- 
 fering with our morals.' 
 
 6 Then what is the use of our rules ? ' 
 
 * They were made for those who consented to 
 adopt them, as we all did. They still bind us, and 
 if we don't choose to buy her liquor or cigars 
 that will dispose of her and her Tienda much 
 more effectually than your protest. It's a pity 
 she's a lone unprotected woman. Now if she only 
 had a husband ' 
 
220 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 ' She carries a dagger in her garter.' 
 This apparently irrelevant remark came from 
 the man who had not yet spoken, but who had 
 been listening with the languid unconcern of one 
 who, relinquishing the labour of argument to 
 others, had consented to abide by their decision. 
 It was met with a scornful smile from each of the 
 disputants, perhaps even by an added shrug of 
 the shoulders from the woman's previous defender ! 
 He was evidently not to be taken in by extraneous 
 sentiment. Nevertheless both listened as the 
 speaker, slowly feeling his knees as if they were 
 his way to a difficult subject, continued with the 
 same suggestion of stating general fact, but 
 waiving any argument himself. ' Clarkson, of 
 Angel's, allows she's got a free, gaudy, picter- 
 covered style with the boys, but that she can be 
 gilt-edged when she wants to. Rowley Meade 
 him ez hed his skelp pulled over his ears at one 
 stroke, foolin' with a she bear over on Black Moun- 
 tain allows it would be rather monotonous in him 
 attemptin' any familiarities with her. Bulstrode's 
 brother, ez was in Marysville, said there was a 
 woman like to her, but not her ez made it 
 lively for the boys with a game called " Little 
 Monte," and he dropped a hundred dollars there 
 afore he came away. They do say that about 
 seven men got shot in Marysville on account o' 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 221 
 
 this one, or from some oneasiness that happened 
 at her shop. But then,' he went on slowly and 
 deferentially as the faces of the two others were 
 lowered and became fixed, 'she says she tired o' 
 drunken rowdies there's a sameness about 'em, 
 
 ' SHE CAN BE GILT-EDGED WHEN SHE WANTS TO ' 
 
 and it don't sell her pipes and cigars, and that's 
 why she's coming here. Thompson, over at Dry 
 Creek, sez that thats where our reputation is 
 playin' us! " We've got her as a reward o' virtoo, 
 and be d d to us." But,' cautiously, * Thomp- 
 
222 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 son ain't drawed a sober breath since Christ- 
 mas.' 
 
 The three men looked in each other's faces in 
 silence. The same thought occurred to each ; the 
 profane Thompson was right, and the woman's 
 advent was the logical sequence of their own 
 ethics. Two years previously, the Buckeye 
 Company had found gold on the South Fork, 
 and had taken up claims. Composed mainly of 
 careful, provident, and thoughtful men some of 
 cultivation and refinement they had adopted a 
 certain orderly discipline for their own guidance 
 solely, which, however, commended itself to later 
 settlers, already weary of the lawlessness and 
 reckless freedom which usually attended the in- 
 ception of mining settlements. Consequently the 
 birth of Buckeye was accompanied with no 
 dangerous travail ; its infancy was free from the 
 diseases of adolescent communities. The settlers, 
 without any express prohibition, had tacitly 
 dispensed with gambling and drinking saloons ; 
 following the unwritten law of example, had laid 
 aside their revolvers, and mingled together peace- 
 fully when their labours were ended, without a 
 single peremptory regulation against drinking and 
 playing, or carrying lethal weapons. Nor had 
 there been any test of fitness or qualification for 
 citizenship through previous virtue. There were 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 223 
 
 one or two gamblers, a skilful duellist, and men 
 who still drank whisky who had voluntarily 
 sought the camp. Of some such antecedents was 
 the last speaker. Probably with two wives else- 
 where, and a possible homicidal record, he had 
 modestly held aloof from obtrusive argument. 
 
 ' Well, we must have a meeting and put the 
 question squarely to the boys to-morrow,' said 
 Parks, gazing thoughtfully from the window. 
 The remark was followed by another long silence. 
 Beyond, in the darkness, Buckeye, unconscious 
 of the momentous question awaiting its decision, 
 slept on peacefully. 
 
 1 1 brought the keg of whisky and brandy 
 from Red Gulch to-day that Doctor Duchesne 
 spoke of,' he resumed presently. ' You know he 
 said we ought to have some in common stock 
 that he could always rely upon in emergencies, 
 and for use after the tule fever. I didn't agree 
 with him, and told him how I had brought Sam 
 Denver through an attack with quinine and 
 arrowroot, but he laughed and wanted to know if 
 we'd "resolved" that everybody should hereafter 
 have the Denver constitution. That's the trouble 
 with those old army surgeons they never can get 
 over the " heroics" of their past. Why he told 
 Parson Jennings that he'd rather treat a man for 
 jim-jams than one that was dying for want of 
 
224 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 stimulants. However, the liquor is here, and 
 one of the things we must settle to-morrow is the 
 question if it ought not to be issued only on 
 Duchesne's prescription. When I made that 
 point to him squarely, he grinned again, and 
 wanted to know if I calculated to put the same 
 restriction on the sale of patent medicines and 
 drugs generally.' 
 
 ''N powder 'n shot,' contributed the indifferent 
 man. 
 
 * Perhaps you'd better take a look at the liquor, 
 Saunders,' said Parks, dismissing the ethical 
 question. ' You know more about it than we do- 
 It ought to be the best.' 
 
 Saunders went behind the counter, drew out 
 two demijohns, and, possibly from the force of 
 habit, selected three mugs from the crockery and 
 poured some whisky into each, before he could 
 check himself. 
 
 ' Perhaps we had better compare tastes,' said 
 Brace blandly. They all sipped their liquor 
 slowly and in silence. The decision was favour- 
 able. ' Better try some with water to see how it 
 mixes,' said Saunders, lazily filling the glasses 
 with a practised hand. This required more de- 
 liberation, and they drew their chairs to the table 
 and sat down. A slight relaxation stole over the 
 thoughtful faces of Brace and Parks, a gentle 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 225 
 
 perspiration came over the latter's brow, but the 
 features and expression of Saunders never changed. 
 The conversation took a broader range ; politics 
 and philosophy entered into it ; literature and 
 poetry were discussed by Parks and Brace, 
 Saunders still retaining the air of a dispassionate 
 observer, ready to be convinced, but abstaining 
 from argument and occasionally replenishing 
 the glasses. There was felt to be no incon- 
 sistency between their present attitude and their 
 previous conversation ; rather it proved to them 
 that gentlemen could occasionally indulge in a 
 social glass together without frequenting a liquor 
 saloon. This was stated with some degree of 
 effusion by Parks and assented to with singular 
 enthusiasm by Brace; Saunders nodding. It was 
 also observed with great penetration by Brace, 
 that in having really good, specially-selected liquor 
 like that, the great danger of the intoshikat'n 'fx 
 he corrected himself with great deliberation, 
 ' the intoxicating effects ' of adulterated liquors 
 sold in drinking saloons was obviated. Mr. 
 Brace thought also that the vitiated quality of the 
 close air of a crowded saloon had a great deal to 
 do with it the excess of carbon hie he begged 
 their pardon carbonic acid gas undoubtedly 
 rendered people ' slupid and steepy.' ' But here, 
 from the open window,' he walked dreamily to it 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 and leaned out admiringly towards the dark land- 
 scape that softly slumbered without, ' one could 
 drink in only health and poetry.' 
 
 ' Wot's that ? ' said Saunders, looking up. 
 
 * I said health and poetry,' returned Brace 
 with some dignity. ' I repeat 
 
 ' No. I mean wot's that noise ? Listen. ' 
 
 They listened so breathlessly that the soft 
 murmur of the river seemed to flow in upon them. 
 But above it quite distinctly came the regular 
 muffled beat of horse-hoofs in the thick dust and 
 the occasional rattle of wheels over rocky irregu- 
 larities. But still very far and faint, and fading 
 like the noises in a dream. Brace drew a long 
 breath ; Parks smiled and softly closed his eyes. 
 But Saunders remained listening. 
 
 ' That was over our road, near the turnpike ! ' 
 he said musingly. * That's queer ; thar ain't any 
 of the boys away to-night, and that's a waggon. 
 It's someone comin' here. Hark to that! There 
 it is again.' 
 
 It was the same sound but more distinct and 
 nearer, and then was lost again. 
 
 4 They're dragging through the river sand 
 that's just abreast o' Mallory's. Stopped there, I 
 reckon. No ! pushin' on again. Hear em' grind- 
 ing along the gravel over Hamilton's trailin's ? 
 Stopped agin that's before Somerville's shanty. 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 227 
 
 What's gone o' them now ? Maybe they've lost 
 the trail and got onto Gray's slide through the 
 woods. It's no use lookin' ; ye couldn't see any- 
 thing in this nigger dark. Hoi' on! If they're 
 comin' through the woods, ye' 11 hear 'em again 
 jest off here. Yes ! by thunder ! here they are ! ' 
 This time the clatter and horse-hoofs were 
 before them, at the very door. A man's voice 
 cried ' whoa ! ' and there was a sudden bound on 
 the verandah. The cloor opened ; for an instant 
 the entrance appeared to be filled with a mass of 
 dazzling white flounces, and a figure which from 
 waist to crown was impenetrably wrapped and 
 swathed in black lace. Somewhere beneath its 
 folds, a soft, Spanish, yet somewhat childish voice 
 cried * Tente. HoF on,' turned and vanished. This 
 was succeeded by the apparition of a silent, 
 swarthy Mexican, who dropped a small trunk at 
 their feet and vanished also. Then the white- 
 flounced and black-laced figure' reappeared as the 
 departing waggon rattled away, glided to the 
 centre of the room, placed on the trunk a small 
 foot, whose low-quartered black satin slipper 
 seemed to be held only by the toe, threw back 
 with both hands the black lace mantilla, which was 
 pinned by a red rose over her little right ear, 
 and with her hands slightly extended and waving 
 softly said, ' Mir a cabal leros ! 'Ere we are 
 
 Q2 
 
228 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 MIRA CABALLEROS ! " 'ERE WE ARE AGAIN, BOYS ! ' 
 
 again, boys ! Viva ! Aow ees your mother ? Aow 
 ees that for high ? Behold me ! just from Pike ! ' 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 229 
 
 Parks and Brace, who had partly risen, fell 
 back hopelessly in their chairs again and gazed at 
 the figure with a feeble smile of vacuous pain and 
 politeness. At which it advanced, lowered its 
 black eyes mischievously over the table and the 
 men who sat there, poured out a glass of the 
 liquor, said : ' I look towards you, boys ! Don't 
 errise. You are just a leetle weary, eh ? A 
 leetle. O yes! a leetle tired of crookin' your 
 elbow eh ? Don't care if the school keep ! 
 eh ? Don't want any pie ! Want to go 'ome, eh ? ' 
 
 But here Mr. Parks rose with slight difficulty, 
 but unflinching dignity, and leaned impressively 
 over the table, ' May I ashk may I be permitted 
 to arsk, madam, to what we may owe the pleasure 
 of thish of this visit ? ' 
 
 Her face and attitude instantly changed. Her 
 arms dropped and caught up the mantilla with a 
 quick but not ungraceful sweep, and in apparently 
 a single movement she was draped, wrapped, and 
 muffled from waist to crown as before. With a 
 slight inclination of her head, she said in quite 
 another voice : * Si, Senor. I have arrive here 
 because in your whole great town of Booki there 
 is not so much as one ' she held up a small brown 
 finger ' as much as one leetle light or -fire like 
 thees ; be-cause in this grand pueblo there is not one 
 peoples who have not already sleep in his bed but 
 
230 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 thees ! Bueno ! I have arrive all the same like 
 a leetle bird, like the small fly arrive to the light ! 
 not to yoii only to the light \ I go not to my 
 casa for she is dark, and to-night she have nothing 
 to make the fire or bed. I go not to the 'otel 
 there is not one ' the brown finger again uplifted 
 ' 'otel in Booki ! I make the 'otel the Fonda 
 in my hoose inanana to-morrow ! To-night I 
 and Sanchicha make the bed for us 'ere. San- 
 chicha, she stands herself now over in the street. 
 We have mooch sorrow we have to make the 
 caballeros mooch tr-rouble to make disposition of 
 his house. But what will you ? ' 
 
 There was another awkward silence, and then 
 Saunders, who had been examining the intruder 
 with languid criticism, removed his pipe from his 
 mouth and said quietly: 
 
 ' That's the woman you're looking for Jovita 
 Mendez ! ' 
 
 PART II 
 
 THE rest of that interview has not been re- 
 corded. Suffice it that a few minutes later Parks, 
 Brace, and Saunders left the Emporium, and 
 passed the night in the latter's cabin, leaving the 
 Emporium in possession of Miss Mendez and her 
 peon servant ; that at the earliest dawn the two 
 women and their baggage were transferred to the 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEY& CAMP 231 
 
 MISS MENDEZ 
 
 old adobe house, where, however, a Mexican 
 workman had already arrived, and with a basket- 
 
232 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 full of red tiles was making it habitable. Buck- 
 eye, which was popularly supposed to sleep with 
 one eye on the river, and always first repaired 
 there in the morning to wash and work, was only 
 awake to the knowledge of the invasion at noon. 
 The meeting so confidently spoken of the night 
 before had not been called. Messrs. Parks and 
 Brace were suffering from headaches undoubtedly 
 a touch of tule chill. Saunders, at work with his 
 partner in Eagle Bar, was as usual generous with 
 apparently irrelevant facts on all subjects but 
 that of the strangers. It would seem as if the 
 self-constituted Committee of Safety had done 
 nothing. 
 
 And nothing whatever seemed to happen ! 
 Thompson, of Angels, smoking a meditative pipe 
 at noon on the .trail, noticed the repairing of the 
 old adobe house, casually spoke of it on his return 
 to his work, without apparent concern or exciting 
 any comment. The two Billinger brothers saw 
 Jovita Mendez at the door of her house an hour 
 later, were themselves seen conversing with her 
 by Jim Barker, but on returning to their claim, 
 neither they nor Barker exhibited any insurrec- 
 tionary excitement. Later on, Shuttleworth was 
 found in possession of two bundles of freshly-rolled 
 corn-husk cigarettes, and promised to get his 
 partner some the next day, but that gentleman 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 233 
 
 anticipated him. By nightfall nearly all Buckeye 
 had passed in procession before the little house 
 without exhibiting any indignation or protest. 
 That night, however, it seemed as if the events 
 for which the Committee was waiting were really 
 impending. The adult female population of 
 Buckeye consisted of seven women wives of 
 miners. That they would submit tamely to the 
 introduction of a young, pretty, and presumably 
 dangerous member of their own sex was not to be 
 supposed. But whatever protest they made did 
 not pass beyond their conjugal seclusion, and was 
 apparently not supported by their husbands. Two 
 or three of them, under the pretext of sympathy of 
 sex, secured interviews with the fair intruder, the 
 result of which was not, however, generally known. 
 But a few days later Mrs. ' Bob ' Carpenter a 
 somewhat brick-dusty blonde was observed wear- 
 ing some black netting and a heavily-flounced 
 skirt, and Mrs. Shuttleworth in her next visit to 
 Fiddletown wore her Paisley shawl affixed to her 
 chestnut hair by a bunch of dog roses, and wrapped 
 like a plaid around her waist. The seven ladies 
 of Buckeye, who had never before met, except 
 on domestic errands to each other's houses or 
 on Sunday attendance at the * First Methodist 
 Church ' at Fiddletown, now took to walking 
 together, or in their husbands' company, along the 
 
234 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 upper bank of the river the one boulevard of 
 Buckeye. The third day after Miss Mendez's arrival 
 they felt the necessity of immediate shopping 
 expeditions to Ficldletown. This operation had 
 hitherto been confined to certain periods, and re- 
 stricted to the laying in of stores of rough house- 
 hold stuffs ; but it now apparently included a 
 wider range and more ostentatious quality. Parks' 
 Emporium no longer satisfied them, and this un- 
 expected phase of the situation was practically 
 brought home to the proprietor in the necessity of 
 extending the more inoffensive and peaceful part 
 of his stock. And when, towards the end of the 
 week, a cartload of pretty fixtures, mirrors, and 
 furniture arrived at the Tienda, there was a 
 renewed demand at the Emporium for articles not 
 in stock, and the consequent diverting of custom 
 to Fiddletown. Buckeye found itself face to face 
 with a hitherto undreamt of and preposterous 
 proposition. It seemed that the advent of the 
 strange woman, without having yet produced any 
 appreciable effect upon the men, had already 
 insidiously inveigled the adult female population 
 into ostentatious extravagance. 
 
 At the end of a week the little adobe house 
 was not only rendered habitable, but was even 
 made picturesque by clean white curtains at its 
 barred windows, and some bright, half Moorish 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 235 
 
 colouring of beams and rafters. Nearly the whole 
 ground floor was given up to the saloon of the 
 Tienda, which consisted of a small counter at one 
 side, containing bottles and glasses, and another, 
 Hanking it, with glass cases, containing cigars, 
 pipes, and tobacco, while the centre of the room 
 was given up to four or five small restaurant 
 tables. The staff of Jovita was no longer limited 
 to Sanchicha, but had been augmented by a little 
 old man of indefinite antiquity who resembled an 
 Aztec idol, and an equally old Mexican, who 
 looked not unlike a brown-tinted and veined 
 tobacco leaf himself, and might have stood for a 
 sign. But the genius of the place, its omnipresent 
 and all-pervading goddess, was'Jovita! Smiling, 
 joyous, indefatigable in suavity and attention ; all- 
 embracing in her courtesies ; frank of speech and 
 eye ; quick at repartee and deftly handling the 
 slang of the day and the locality with a childlike 
 appreciation and an infantine accent that seemed 
 to redeem it from vulgarity or unfeminine bold- 
 ness ! Few could resist the volatile infection of 
 her presence. A smile was the only tribute she 
 exacted, and good-humour the rule laid down for 
 her guests. If it occasionally required some 
 mental agility to respond to her banter, a Cali- 
 fornian gathering was, however, seldom lacking in 
 humour. Yet she was always the principal per- 
 
236 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 former to an admiring audience. Perhaps there 
 was security in this multitude of admirers ; perhaps 
 there was a saving grace in this humorous trifling. 
 The passions are apt to be serious and solitary, 
 and Jovita evaded them with a jest which, if not 
 always delicate or witty, was effective in securing 
 the laughter of the majority and the jealousy of 
 none. 
 
 At the end of the week another peculiarity 
 was noticed. There was a perceptible increase of 
 the Mexican population, who had always hitherto 
 avoided Buckeye. On Sunday an Irish priest 
 from El Pasto said Mass in a patched-up corner 
 of the old Mission ruin opposite Rollinson's Ford- 
 A few lounging ' Excelsior ' boys were equally 
 astonished to see Jovita's red rose crest and black 
 mantilla glide by, and followed her unvarying 
 smile and jesting salutation up to the shadow of 
 the crumbling portal. At Vespers nearly all 
 Buckeye, hitherto virtuously sceptical and good- 
 humouredly secure in Works without Faith, made 
 a point of attending ; it was alleged by some to 
 see if Jovita's glossy Indian-inky eyes would suffer 
 aberration in her devotions. But the rose-crested 
 head was never lifted from the well-worn prayer- 
 book or the brown hands which held a certain 
 poor little cheap rosary like a child's string of bat- 
 tered copper coins. Buckeye lounged by the wall 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 237 
 
 through the service with respectful tolerance and 
 uneasy shifting legs, and came away. But the 
 apparently simple event did not end there. It was 
 unconsciously charged with a tremendous import 
 to the settlement. For it was discovered the next 
 day by Mrs. 'Bob' Carpenter and Nan Shuttleworth 
 that the Methodist Church at Fiddletown was too 
 far away, and Buckeye ought to have a preacher 
 of its own. Seats were fitted up in the loft of 
 Carpenter's store house, where the Reverend 
 Henry McCorkle held divine service, and in- 
 stituted a Bible class. At the end of two weeks 
 it appeared that Jovita's invasion which was to 
 bring dissipation and ruin to Buckeye had in- 
 directly brought two churches ! A chilling doubt 
 like a cold mist settled along the river. As the 
 two rival processions passed on the third Sunday, 
 Jo Bateman, who had been in the habit of reclining 
 on that day in his shirt -sleeves under a tree, with 
 a novel in his hand, looked gloomily after them. 
 Then knocking the ashes from his pipe, he rose, 
 shook hands with his partners, said apologetically 
 that he had lately got into the habit of respecting the 
 Sabbath, and was too old to change again, and so 
 shook the red dust of Buckeye from his feet and 
 departed. 
 
 As yet there had not been the slightest 
 evidence of disorderly conduct on the part of the 
 
238 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 fair proprietress of the Tienda, nor her customers, 
 nor any drunkenness or riotous disturbance that 
 could be at all attributed to her presence. There 
 was, it is true, considerable hilarity, smoking, and 
 some gambling there until a late hour, but this 
 could not be said to interfere with the rest and 
 comfort of other people. A clue to the mystery 
 of so extraordinary a propriety was given by 
 Jovita herself. One day she walked into Parks' 
 Emporium and demanded an interview with the 
 proprietor. 
 
 ' You have made the rules for thees Booki ? ' 
 
 * Yes that is I and my friends have.' 
 
 ' And when one shall not have mind the rule- 
 when one have say : " No ! damn the rule," what 
 shall you make to him ? Shall you aprison him ? ' 
 
 Mr. Parks hastened to say with a superior, yet 
 engaging smile that it never had been necessary, 
 as the rules were obligatory upon the honour and 
 consent of all and were never broken. * Except,' 
 he added, still more engagingly, 'she would 
 remember, in her case with their consent.' 
 
 ' And your caballeros break not the rules ? ' 
 
 ' No.' 
 
 ' Then they shall not break the rules of me- 
 at my Tien da \ Look ! I have made the rule that 
 I shall not have a caballero drunk at my house ; 
 I have made the rule that I shall not sell him the 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 239 
 
 aguardiente when he have too mooch. I have 
 made the rule that when he gamble too mooch, 
 when he put up too mooch money, I say " No ! " 
 I will not that he shall ! I make one more rule : 
 that he shall not quarrel nor fight in my house. 
 When he quarrel and fight, I say " Go ! Vamos ! 
 Get out ! " ' 
 
 'And very good rules they are too, Miss 
 Mendez.' 
 
 Jovita fixed her shining black eyes on the 
 smiling Parks. ' And when he say : " No, nevarre, 
 damn the rules ! " When he come drunk, remain 
 drunk, play high and fight, you will not poonish 
 him ? you will not take him out ? ' 
 
 ' Well, you see, the fact is, I have not the 
 power.' 
 
 ' Are you not the Alcalde ? ' 
 
 * No. There is a Justice of the Peace at 
 Fiddletown, but even he could do nothing to 
 enforce your rules. But if anything should happen 
 you can make a complaint to him.' 
 
 ' Bueno. You have not the power ; / have. 
 I make not the complaint to Fiddletown. I 
 make the complaint to Jose Perez, to Manuel, 
 to Antonio, to Sanchicha she is a strong one ! 
 I say " Chook him out." They chook him 
 out! they remove him ! He does not r r-remain. 
 Enough. Bueno. Gracias, Senor, good-a-bye ! ' 
 
240 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 She was gone. For the next four days Parks 
 was in a state of some anxiety but it appeared 
 unnecessarily so. Whether the interview had 
 become known along the river did not transpire, 
 but there seemed to be no reason for Miss Mendez 
 to enforce her rules. It was said that once, when 
 Thompson, of Angels, was a little too noisy, he 
 had been quietly conducted by his friends from 
 the Tienda without the intervention of Jose. The 
 frequenters of the saloon became its police. 
 
 Yet the event long protracted came at last ! 
 It was a dry, feverish, breezeless afternoon, when 
 the short, echoless explosion of a revolver puffed 
 out on the river, followed by another, delivered so 
 rapidly that they seemed rolled into one. There 
 was no mistaking that significant repetition. One 
 shot might have been an accident ; two meant 
 intention. The men dropped their picks and 
 shovels and ran ran as they never before ran in 
 Buckeye ran mechanically, blindly groping at 
 their belts and pockets for the weapons that hung 
 there no longer ; ran aimlessly, as to purpose, but 
 following instinctively with hurried breath and 
 quivering nostrils the cruel scent of powder 
 and blood. Ran until, reaching the Tienda, the 
 foremost stumbled over the body of Shuttle- 
 worth ; came upon the half-sitting, half-leaning 
 figure of Saunders against its adobe wall ! The 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 241 
 
 doors were barred and closed, and even as the 
 crowd charged furiously forward, a window was 
 sharply shut above, in their very face. 
 
 'Stand back, gentlemen! Lift him up. 
 What's the row^? What is it, Saunders ? Who, 
 did it ? Speak, man ! ' 
 
 But Saunders, who was still supporting himself 
 against the wall, only looked at them with a 
 singular and half-apologetic smile, and then leaned 
 forward as if to catch the eye of Shuttleworth, 
 who was recovering consciousness in the uplifted 
 arms of his companions. But neither spoke. 
 
 'It's some d d Greaser 1 inside!' said 
 Thompson, with sudden ferocity. 'Some of her 
 cursed crew ! Break down the doors, boys ! ' 
 
 ' Stop ! ' 
 
 It was the voice of Shuttleworth, speaking 
 with an effort. He was hard hit, somewhere in 
 the groin ; pain and blood were coming with 
 consciousness and movement, and his face was 
 ghastly. Yet there was the same singular smile 
 of embarrassment which Saunders had worn, and 
 a touch of invincible disgust in his voice as he 
 stammered quickly, 'Don't be d d fools! It's 
 no one in there. It's only me and him\ He'll 
 tell you that. Won't you, Saunders ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' said Saunders, leaning anxiously 
 1 'Greaser' i.e. Mexican. 
 
SAUNDERS LOOKED AT THEM WITH A SINGULAR SMILE 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 243 
 
 forward, with a brightening face. ' D n it all 
 can't you see ? It's only only us.' 
 
 ' You and me, that's all,' repeated Shuttleworth, 
 with a feverish laugh. ' Only our d d foolishness ! 
 Think of it, boys! He gave me the lie, and I 
 drew ! ' 
 
 'Both of us full, you know reg'lar beasts,' 
 said Saunders, sinking back against the wall. 
 ' Kick me, somebody, and finish me off.' 
 
 ' I don't see any weapons here,' said Brace 
 gravely, examining the ground. 
 
 ' They're inside,' said Shuttleworth with tre- 
 mulous haste. ' We began it in there just like 
 hogs, you know ! Didn't we, Saunders ? ' bitterly. 
 
 ' You bet,' said Saunders faintly. ' Reg'lar 
 swine.' 
 
 Parks looked graver still, and as he passed a 
 handkerchief around the wounded man's thigh, 
 said: ' But I don't see where you got your pistols, 
 and how you got out here.' 
 
 ' Clinched, you know ; sorter rolled over out 
 here and and oh, d -n it don't talk ! ' 
 
 ' He means,' said Shuttleworth still feebly, 
 ' that we we grabbed another man s six-shooter 
 and and he that is and they he he and me 
 grabbed each other, and don't you see ?- 1 but 
 here, becoming more involved and much weaker, 
 he discreetly fainted away. 
 
 R 2 
 
244 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CA.irP 
 
 And that was all Buckeye ever knew of the 
 affair ! For they refused to speak of it again, and 
 Dr. Duchesne gravely forbade any further inter- 
 rogation. Both men's revolvers were found un- 
 discharged in their holsters, hanging in their 
 respective cabins. The balls which were after- 
 wards extracted from the two men singularly dis- 
 appeared ; Dr. Duchesne asserting with a grim 
 smile that they had swallowed them. 1 
 
 Nothing could be ascertained of the facts at 
 the Tienda, which at that hour of the day appeared 
 to have been empty of customers, and was occupied 
 only by Miss Mendez and her retainers. All 
 surmises as to the real cause of the quarrel and 
 the reason for the reticence of the two belligerents 
 were suddenly and unexpectedly stopped by their 
 departure from Buckeye as soon as their condition 
 permitted, on the alleged opinion of Dr. Duchesne 
 that the air of the river was dangerous to their 
 convalescence. The momentary indignation 
 against the Tienda which the two combatants had 
 checked, eventually subsided altogether. After 
 all, the fight had taken place outside ; it was not 
 even proven that the provocation had been given 
 at the Tienda \ Its popularity was uncliminished. 
 
 1 It was a frontier superstition that the ball extracted from a 
 gunshot wound, if swallowed by the wounded man, prevented in- 
 flammation or any supervening complications. 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 245 
 
 PART III 
 
 IT was the end of the rainy season, and a wet 
 night. Brace and Parks were looking from the 
 window over the swollen river, with faces quite 
 as troubled as the stream below. Nor was the 
 prospect any longer the same. In the past twc 
 years Buckeye had grown into a city. They 
 could now count a half-dozen church spires from 
 the window of the three-storied brick building 
 which had taken the place of the old wooden 
 ' Emporium,' but they could also count the 
 brilliantly-lit windows of an equal number of 
 saloons and gambling-houses which glittered 
 through the rain, or, to use the words of a local 
 critic, ' Shone seven nights in the week to the 
 Gospel shops' one \ ' A difficulty had arisen 
 which the two men had never dreamed of, and a 
 struggle had taken place between the two rival 
 powers, which was developing a degree of 
 virulence and intolerance on both sides that boded 
 no good to Buckeye. The disease which its 
 infancy had escaped, had attacked its adult growth 
 with greater violence. The new American saloons 
 which competed with Jovita Mendez's Spanish 
 venture had substituted a brutal masculine sin- 
 cerity for her veiled feminine methods. There 
 was higher play, deeper drinking, darker passion, 
 
246 THE TRANSFORMATION OF PUCK EYE CAMP 
 
 Yet the opposition, after the fashion of most 
 reformers, were casting back to the origin of the 
 trouble in Jovita, and were confounding principles 
 and growth. ' If it had not been for her the rule 
 would never have been broken.' ' If there was to 
 be a cleaning out of the gambling houses, she 
 must go first ! ' 
 
 The sounds of a harp and a violin played in 
 the nearest saloon struggled up to them with the 
 opening and shutting of its swinging baize inner 
 doors. There was boisterous chanting from 
 certain belated revellers in the next street which 
 had no such remission. The brawling of the 
 stream below seemed to be echoed in the uneasy 
 streets ; the quiet of the old days had departed 
 with the sedate, encompassing woods that no 
 longer fringed the river bank ; the restful calm of 
 Nature had receded before the dusty outskirts of 
 the town. 
 
 ' It's mighty unfortunate, too,' said Brace 
 moodily, ' that Shuttleworth and Saunders, who 
 haven't been in the place since their row, have 
 come over from Fiddletown to-day and are 
 hanging around town. They haven't said anything 
 that I know of, but their presence is quite enough 
 to revive the old feeling against her shop. The 
 Committee,' he added bitterly, * will be sure to 
 say that not only the first gambling, but the first 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 247 
 
 shooting in Buckeye took place there. If they 
 get up that story again no matter how quiet she 
 has become since no matter what you may say 
 as Mayor it will go hard with her. What's that 
 now ? ' 
 
 They listened breathlessly. Above the brawl- 
 ing of the river, the twanging of the harp-players, 
 and the receding shouts of the revellers, they 
 could hear the hollow wooden sidewalks resound- 
 ing with the dull, monotonous trampling of closely 
 following feet. Parks rose with a white face. 
 
 1 Brace ! ' 
 
 ' Yes ! ' 
 
 ' Will you stand by me and her ? ' 
 
 ' Stand by you and her ? ' Eh ? What ? 
 'Good God ! Parks ! you don't mean to say you 
 it's gone as far as that ?' 
 
 ' Will you or won't you ?' 
 
 The sound of the trampling had changed to a 
 shuffling on the pavement below, and then foot- 
 steps began to ascend the stairs. 
 
 Brace held out his hand quickly and grasped 
 that of Parks as the door opened to half a dozen 
 men. They were evidently the ringleaders of the 
 crowd below. There was no hesitation or doubt 
 in their manner ; the unswerving directness which 
 always characterised those illegal demonstrations 
 lent it something of dignity. Nevertheless, 
 
248 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 Carpenter, the spokesman, flushed slightly before 
 Parks's white, determined face. 
 
 * Come, Parks, you know what we're after,' he 
 said bluntly. ' We didn't come here to parley. 
 We knew your sentiments and what you think is 
 your duty. We know what we consider ours 
 and so do you. But we're here to give you a 
 chance, either as Mayor, or, if you prefer it, as the 
 oldest citizen here, to take a hand in our business 
 to-night. We're not ashamed of what we're going 
 to do, and we're willing to abide by it ; so there's 
 no reason why we shouldn't speak above board of 
 it to you. We even invite you to take part in 
 our last "call " to-night at the Hall.' 
 
 ' Go ! ' whispered Brace quickly, 'you'll gain 
 time ! ' 
 
 Parks's face changed, and he turned to 
 Carpenter. ' Enough,' he said gravely. ' I reserve 
 what I have to say of these proceedings till I join 
 you there.' He stopped, whispered a few words 
 to Brace, and then disappeared as the men de- 
 scended the stairs, and, joining the crowd on the 
 pavement, proceeded silently towards the Town 
 Hall. There was nothing in the appearance of 
 that decorous procession to indicate its unlawful 
 character or the recklessness with which it was 
 charged. 
 
 There were thirty or forty men already seated in 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 249 
 
 the Hall. The meeting was brief and to the point. 
 The gambling saloons were to be ' cleaned out ' 
 that night, the tables and appliances thrown into 
 the street and burnt, the doors closed, and the 
 gamblers were to be conducted to the outskirts of 
 the town and forbidden to enter it again on pain 
 of death. 
 
 ' Does this yer refer to Jovita Mendez's saloon ?' 
 asked a voice. 
 
 To their surprise the voice.was not Parks's, but 
 Shuttleworth's. It was also a matter to be noted 
 that he stood a little forward of the crowd, and 
 that there was a corresponding movement of a 
 dozen or more men from Fiddletown who 
 apparently were part of the meeting. 
 
 The chairman (No. 10), said there was to be 
 no exception, and certainly not for the originator 
 of disorder in Buckeye! He was surprised that 
 the question should be asked by No. 72, who was 
 an old resident of Buckeye, and who, with No. 73, 
 had suffered from the character of that woman's 
 saloon. 
 
 ' That's jest it,' said Shuttleworth, ' and ez I 
 reckon that Saunders and me did all the disorder 
 there was, and had to turn ourselves out o' town 
 on account of it, I don't see jest where she could 
 come into this affair. Only,' he turned and looked 
 around him, ' in one way ! And that way, gentle- 
 
250 THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 
 
 men, would be for her to come here and boot one- 
 half o' this kempany out o' town, and shoot the 
 other half! You hear me! that's so!' He 
 stopped, tugged a moment at his cravat and 
 loosened his shirt-collar as if it impeded his utter- 
 ance, and went on. ' I've got to say suthin' to you 
 gentlemen about me and Saundersand this woman ; 
 I've got to say suthin' that's hard for a white man 
 to say, and him a married man, too I've got to 
 say that me and Saunders never had no quoll, 
 never had no Jig Jit at her shop : I've got to say 
 that me and Saunders got shot by Jovita Mendez 
 for insult in her for try in' to treat her as if she 
 was the common dirt of the turnpike and served 
 us right! I've got to say that Saunders and me 
 made a bet that for all her airs she wasn't no 
 better than she might be, and we went there 
 drunk to try her and that we got left, with two 
 shots into us like hounds as we were ! That's so ! 
 wasn't it, Saunders?' 
 
 ' With two shots inter us like hounds ez we 
 were,' repeated Saunders with deliberate preci- 
 sion. 
 
 ' And I've got to say suthin' more, gen'lemen,' 
 continued Shuttleworth, now entirely removing 
 his coat and vest, and apparently shaking himself 
 free from any extraneous trammels. ' I've got to 
 say this I've got to say that thar ain't a man in 
 
THE TRANSFORMATION OF BUCKEYE CAMP 251 
 
 Buckeye from Dirty Dick over yon to the Mayor 
 of this town, ez hasn't tried the same thing on and 
 got left got left, without shootin' may be, more's 
 the pity, but got left all the same ! And I've got to 
 say,' liftinghis voice, 'that ef that s what you call dis- 
 order line ss in her if that's what yo'r turnin' this 
 woman out o' town for why- 
 He stopped, absolutely breathless and gasping. 
 For there was a momentary shock of surprise 
 and shame, and then he was overborne by peal 
 after peal of inextinguishable laughter. But it 
 was the laughter that precipitated doubt, en- 
 lightened justice, cleared confusion, and saved 
 them ! 
 
 In vain a few struggled to remind them that 
 the question of the other saloons was still unaf- 
 fected. It was lost in the motion enthusiastically put 
 and carried that the Committee should instantly 
 accompany Saunders and Shuttleworth to Jovita's 
 saloon to make an apology in their presence. 
 Five minutes later they halted hilariously before 
 its door. But it was closed, dark and silent ! 
 
 Their sudden onset and alarm brought 
 Sanchicha to the half-opened door. ' Ah, yes ! 
 the Senorita ? Bueno f She had just left for 
 Fiddletown with the Senior Parks, the honour- 
 able Mayor. They had been married only a few 
 moments before by the Reverend Mr. McCorkle ! ' 
 
252 
 
 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 PART I 
 
 IT was bitterly cold. When night fell over 
 Lakeville, Wisconsin, the sunset, which had 
 flickered rather than glowed in the western sky, 
 took upon itself a still more boreal tremulousness, 
 until at last it seemed to fade away in cold blue 
 shivers to the zenith. Nothing else stirred ; in 
 the crisp still air the evening smoke of chimneys 
 rose threadlike and vanished. The stars were 
 early, pale, and pitiless ; when the later moonlight 
 fell, it appeared only to whiten the stiffened earth 
 like snow, except where it made a dull, pewter-like 
 film over the three frozen lakes which encompassed 
 the town. 
 
 The site of the town itself was rarely beautiful, 
 and its pioneers and founders had carried out the 
 suggestions they had found there with loving taste 
 and intelligence. Themselves old voyageurs, 
 trappers, and traders, they still loved Nature too 
 well to exclude her from the restful homes they 
 had achieved after years of toiling face to face 
 with her. So a strip of primeval forest on the 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 253 
 
 one side, and rolling level prairie on the other, still 
 came up to the base of the hill, whereon they had 
 built certain solid houses, which a second genera- 
 tion had beautified and improved with modern 
 taste, but which still retained their old honesty of 
 foundation aad wholesome rustic space. These 
 yet stood among the old trees, military squares, 
 and broad sloping avenues of the town. Seen 
 from the railway by day, the regularity of streets 
 and blocks was hidden by environing trees ; there 
 remained only a picturesque lifting of rustic 
 gardens, brown roofs, gables, spires, and cupolas 
 above the mirroring lake : seen from the railway 
 this bitter night, the invisible terraces and streets 
 were now pricked out by symmetrical lines and 
 curves of sparkling lights, which glittered through 
 the leafless boughs and seemed to encircle the hill 
 like a diadem. 
 
 Central in the chiefest square, and yet pre- 
 serving its old lordly isolation in a wooded garden, 
 the homestead of Enoch Lane stood with all its 
 modern additions and improvements. Already 
 these included not only the latest phases of 
 decoration, but various treasures brought by the 
 second generation from Europe, which they were 
 wont to visit, but from which they always con- 
 tentedly returned to their little provincial town. 
 Whether there was some instinctive yearning, like 
 
254 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 the stirred sap of great forests, in their wholesome 
 pioneer blood, or whether there was some occult 
 fascination in the pretty town-crested hill itself, it 
 was still certain that the richest inhabitants always 
 preferred to live in Lakeville. Even the young, 
 who left it to seek their fortune elsewhere, came 
 back to enjoy their success under the sylvan 
 vaults of this vast ancestral roof. And that was 
 why, this 22nd of December, 1870, the whole 
 household of Gabriel Lane was awaiting the 
 arrival from California of his brother, Sylvester 
 Lane, at the old homestead which he had left 
 twenty years ago. 
 
 ' And you don't know how he looks ? ' said 
 Kitty Lane to her father. 
 
 4 I do, perfectly ; rather chubby, with blue 
 eyes, curly hair, fair skin, and blushes when you 
 speak to him.' 
 ' Papa ! ' 
 
 ' Eh ? Oh, well, he used to. You see that 
 was twenty-five years ago, when he left here for 
 boarding-school. He ran away from there, as I 
 told you ; went to sea, and finally brought up at 
 San Francisco.' 
 
 ' And you haven't had any picture, or photo- 
 graph of him, since ? ' 
 
 ' No that is I say! you haven't, any of you, 
 got a picture of Sylvester, have you ?' he turned 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 255 
 
 in a vague parenthetical appeal to the company of 
 relatives and friends collected in the drawing-room 
 after dinner. 
 
 * Cousin Jane has ; she knows all about him ! ' 
 But it appeared that Cousin Jane had only 
 
 heard Susan Marckland say that Edward Bingham 
 had told her that he was in California when 
 ' Uncle Sylvester' had been nearly hanged by a 
 Vigilance Committee for protecting a horse thief 
 or a gambler, or some such person. This was 
 felt to be ineffective as a personal description. 
 
 ' He's sure to wear a big beard ; they all do 
 when they first come back,' said Amos Gunn, with 
 metropolitan oraculousness. 
 
 * He has a big curling moustache, long silken 
 hair, and broad shoulders,' said Marie du Page. 
 
 There was such piquant conviction in the 
 manner of the speaker, who was also a very pretty 
 girl, that they all turned towards her, and Kitty 
 quickly said 
 
 ' \$utyouve never seen him ?' 
 
 ' No but ' She stopped, and, lifting one 
 
 shoulder, threw her spirited head sideways, in a 
 pretty deprecatory way, with elevated eyebrows 
 and an expression intended to show the otherwise 
 untranslatable character of her impression. But 
 it showed quite as pleasantly the other fact, that 
 she was the daughter of a foreigner, an old French 
 
256 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 military explorer, and that she had retained even 
 in Anglo-Saxon Lakeville some of the Gallic 
 animation. 
 
 * Well, how many of you girls are going with 
 me to meet him at the station ? ' said Gabriel, dis- 
 missing with masculine promptness the lesser 
 question. ' It's time to be off.' 
 
 ' I'd like to go,' said Kitty, ' and so would 
 Cousin Jane ; but really, papa, you see if you 
 don't know him, and we don't either, and you've 
 got to satisfy yourself that it's the right man, and 
 then introduce yourself and then us and all this 
 on the platform before everybody it makes it 
 rather embarrassing for us. And then, as he's 
 your younger brother and we're supposed to be 
 his affectionate nieces, you know, it would make 
 him feel so ridiculous ! ' 
 
 1 And if he were to kiss you,' said Marie, 
 tragically, ' and then turn out not to be him !' 
 
 'So,' continued Kitty, 'you'd better take 
 Uncle John, who was more in Uncle Sylvester's 
 time, to represent the Past of the family, and 
 perhaps Mr. Gunn 
 
 ' To represent the future, I suppose ? ' in- 
 terrupted Gabriel, in a wicked whisper. 
 
 ' To represent a name that most men of the 
 world in New York and San Francisco know,' 
 went on Kitty, without a blush. ' It would make 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 257 
 
 recognition and introduction easier. And take an 
 extra fur with you, dear not for him but for 
 yourself. I suppose he's lived so much in the 
 open air as to laugh at our coddling.' 
 
 ' I don't know about that,' said her father, 
 thoughtfully ; * the last telegram I have from him, 
 en route, says he's half frozen, and wants a close 
 carriage sent to the station.' 
 
 * Of course,' said Marie, impatiently, ' you 
 forget the poor creature comes from burning 
 canons and hot golden sands and perpetual sun- 
 shine.' 
 
 ' Very well ; but come along, Marie, and see 
 how I've prepared his room,' and as her father 
 left the drawing-room Kitty carried off her old 
 schoolfellow upstairs. 
 
 The room selected for the coming Sylvester 
 had been one of the elaborate guest-chambers, but 
 was now stripped of its more luxurious furniture 
 and arranged with picturesque yet rural extra- 
 vagance. A few rare buffalo, bear, and panther 
 skins were disposed over the bare floor, and even 
 displayed gracefully over some elaborately rustic 
 chairs. The handsome French bedstead had been 
 displaced for a small wrought-iron ascetic-looking 
 couch covered with a gorgeously striped Mexican 
 blanket. The fireplace had been dismantled of 
 its steel grate, and the hearth extended so as to 
 
 s 
 
258 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 allow a pile of symmetrically heaped moss-covered 
 hickory logs to take its place. The walls were 
 covered with trophies of the chase, buck horns 
 and deer heads, and a number of Indian arrows 
 stood in a sheaf in the corners beside a few modern 
 guns and rifles. 
 
 'Perfectly lovely,' said Marie, 'but' with a 
 slight shiver of her expressive shoulders ' a little 
 cold and outdoorish, eh ? ' 
 
 ' Nonsense,' returned Kitty dictatorially, ' and if 
 he is cold he can easily light those logs. They 
 always build their open fires under a tree. Why 
 even Mr. Gunn used to do that when he was 
 camping out in the Adirondacks last summer. I 
 call it perfectly comfortable and so natural.' 
 Nevertheless, they had both tucked their chilly 
 hands under the fleecy shawls they had snatched 
 from the hall for this hyperborean expedition. 
 
 ' You have taken much pains for him, Kaitee,' 
 .said Marie, with her faintest foreign intonation. 
 ' You will like this strange uncle you ? ' 
 
 ' He is a wonderful man, Marie ; he's been 
 everywhere, seen everything, and done everything 
 out there. He's fought duels, been captured by 
 Indians and tied to a stake to be tortured. He's 
 been leader of a Vigilance Committee, and they 
 say that he has often shot and killed men himself. 
 I'm afraid he's been rather wicked, you know. 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 259 
 
 He's lived alone in the woods like a hermit with- 
 out seeing a soul, and then, again, he's been a 
 chief among the Indians, with Heaven knows how 
 many Indian wives ! They called him " The Pale- 
 faced Thunderbolt," my dear, and " The Young 
 Man who Swallows the Lightning," or something 
 like that.' 
 
 ' And what can he want here ? ' asked Marie. 
 
 ' To see us, my dear,' said Kitty, loftily ; ' and 
 then, too, he has to settle something about his 
 share of the property ; for you know grandpa left 
 a share of it to him. Not that he's ever bothered 
 himself about it, for he's rich a kind of Monte 
 Cristo, you know with a gold mine and an island 
 off the coast, to say nothing of a whole county 
 that he owns, that is called after him, and millions 
 of wild cattle that he rides among and lassoes ! It's 
 dreadfully hard to do. You know you take a 
 long rope with a slip-knot, and you throw it around 
 your head so, and 
 
 1 Hark ! ' said Marie, with a dramatic start, 
 and her finger on her small mouth, * he comes ! ' 
 
 There was the clear roll of wheels along the 
 smooth, frozen carriage sweep towards the house, 
 the sharp crisp click of hoofs on stone, the open- 
 ing of heavy doors, the sudden sparkling invasion 
 of frigid air, the uplifting of voices in greeting 
 but all familiar ! There were Gabriel Lane's 
 
 S 2 
 
260 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 cheery, hopeful tones, the soprano of Cousin Jane 
 and Cousin Emma, the baritone of Mr, Gunn, and 
 the grave measured oratorical utterance of Parson 
 Dexter, who had joined the party at die station ; 
 but certainly the accents of no stranger. Had he 
 come ? Yes, for his name was just then called, and 
 the quick ear of Marie had detected a light, loung- 
 ing, alien footstep cross the cold strip of marble 
 vestibule. The two girls exchanged a rapid 
 glance ; each looked into the mirror, and then 
 interrogatively at the other, nodded their heads 
 affirmatively, and descended to the drawing-room. 
 A group had already drawn round the fire, and a 
 small central figure, who, with its back turned 
 towards them, was still enwrapped in an enormous 
 overcoat of rich fur, was engaged in presenting an 
 alternate small varnished leather boot to the 
 warmth of the grate. As they entered the room 
 the heavy fur was yielded up with apparent 
 reluctance, and revealed to the astonished girls a 
 man of ordinary stature with a slight and elegant 
 figure set off by a travelling suit of irreproachable 
 cut. His light reddish-yellow hair, moustache, 
 and sunburned cheek, which seemed all of one 
 colour and outline, made it impossible to detect 
 the grey of the one or the hollowness of the other, 
 and gave no indication of his age. Yet there was 
 clearly no mistake. Here was Gabriel Lane 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 261 
 
 A GROUP HAD ALREADY DRAWN ROUND THE FIRE 
 
 seizing their nervously cold fingers and presenting 
 them to their ' Uncle Sylvester.' 
 
262 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 Far from attempting to kiss Kitty, the stranger 
 for an instant seemed oblivious of the little hand 
 she offered him in the half-preoccupied bow he 
 gave her. But Marie was not so easily passed 
 over, and, with her audacious face challenging his, 
 he abstractedly imparted to the shake of her hand 
 something of the fervour that he should have 
 shown his relative. And, then, still warming his 
 feet on the fender, he seemed to have forgotten 
 them both. 
 
 ' Accustomed as you have been, sir,' said the 
 Reverend Mr. Dexter, seizing upon an awkward 
 silence, and accenting it laboriously, ' perhaps I 
 should say inured as you have been to the ex- 
 citing and stirring incidents of a lawless and 
 adventurous community, you doubtless find in a 
 pastoral, yet cultivated and refined, seclusion like 
 Lakeville a degree of 
 
 ' Oh, several degrees,' said Uncle Sylvester, 
 blandly flicking bits of buffalo hair from his well- 
 fitting trousers ; ' it's colder, you know much 
 colder.' 
 
 ' I was referring to a less material contrast,' 
 continued Mr. Dexter, with a resigned smile ; 
 4 yet, as to the mere question of cold, I am told, 
 sir, that in California there are certain severe 
 regions of altitude although the mean tempera- 
 ture ' 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 263 
 
 ' I suppose out in California you fellows would 
 say our temperature was a darned sight meaner, 
 eh?' broke in Amos Gunn, with a confidential 
 glance at the others, as if offering a humorous 
 diversion suited to the Californian taste. Uncle 
 Sylvester did not, however, smile. Gazing criti- 
 cally at Gunn, he said thoughtfully : ' I think not ; 
 I've even known men killed for saying less than 
 that,' and turned to the clergyman. * You are 
 quite right ; some of the higher passes are very 
 cold. I was lost in one of them in '56 with a 
 small party. We were seventy miles from any 
 settlement, we had had nothing to eat for thirty- 
 six hours ; our camp fire, melting the snow, sank 
 twelve feet below the surface.' The circle closed 
 eagerly around him, Marie, Kitty, and Cousin 
 Jane pressing forward with excited faces ; even 
 the clergyman assumed an expression of profound 
 interest. ' A man by the name of Thompson, I 
 think,' continued Uncle Sylvester, thoughtfully 
 gazing at the fire, ' was frozen a few yards away. 
 Towards morning, having been fifty-eight hours 
 without food, our last drop of whisky exhausted, 
 and the fire extinguished, we found 
 
 ' Yes, yes ! ' said half a dozen voices. 
 
 ' We found,' continued Uncle Sylvester, 
 rubbing his hands cheerfully, ' we found it 
 exceedingly cold. Yes exceedingly cold ! ' 
 
264 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 There was a dead silence. 
 
 ' But you escaped ! ' said Kitty, breath- 
 lessly. 
 
 4 I think so. I think we all escaped that is, 
 except Thompson, if his name was Thompson ; 
 it might have been Parker,' continued Uncle 
 Sylvester, gazing with a certain languid astonish- 
 ment on the eager faces around him. 
 
 ' But how did you escape ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, somehow ! I don't remember exactly. I 
 don't jthink,' he went on reflectively, ' that we had 
 to eat Thompson if it was him at least not then. 
 No' with a faint effort of recollection ' that 
 would have been another affair. Yes,' assuringly 
 to the eager, frightened eyes of Cousin Jane, ' you 
 are quite right, that was something altogether 
 different. Dear me ; one quite mixes up these 
 things. Eh ? ' 
 
 A servant had entered, and after a hurried 
 colloquy with Gabriel, the latter turned to Uncle 
 Sylvester 
 
 ' Excuse me, but I think there must be some 
 
 mistake ! We brought up your luggage with you 
 
 two trunks in the station waggon. A man has 
 
 just arrived with three more, which he says are 
 
 yours.' 
 
 1 There should be five in all, I think,' said 
 Uncle Sylvester, thoughtfully. 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 265 
 
 ' Maybe there are, sir, I didn't count exactly,' 
 said the servant. 
 
 'All right,' said Uncle Sylvester, cheerfully, 
 turning to his brother. ' You can put them in my 
 room or on the landing, except two marked ' L ' 
 in a triangle. They contain some things I picked 
 up for you and the girls. We'll look them over 
 in the morning. And, if you don't mind, I'll 
 excuse myself now and go to bed.' 
 
 ' But it's only half-past ten,' said Gabriel, re- 
 monstratingly. ' You don't, surely, go to bed at 
 half-past ten ? ' 
 
 ' I do when I travel. Travel is so exhausting. 
 Good-night ! Don't let anybody disturb them- 
 selves to come with me.' 
 
 He bowed languidly to the company, and dis- 
 appeared with a yawn gracefully disguised into a 
 parting smile. 
 
 'Well!' said Cousin Jane, drawing a long breath. 
 
 ' I don't believe it's your Uncle Sylvester at 
 all ! ' said Marie vivaciously. 'It's some trick that 
 Gabriel is playing upon us. And he's not even a 
 good actor he forgets his part.' 
 
 * And, then, five trunks for one single man ! 
 Heavens ! what can he have in them ? ' said Cousin 
 Emma. 
 
 * Perhaps his confederates, to spring out upon 
 us at night, after everybody's asleep.' 
 
266 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 ' Are you sure you remembered him, papa ? ' 
 said Kitty, satto voce. 
 
 ' Certainly. And, my dear child, he knows all 
 the family history as well as you do ; and ' con- 
 tinued her father with a slight laugh, that did not, 
 however, conceal a certain seriousness that was 
 new to him ' I only wish I understood as much 
 about the property as he does. By the way, 
 Amos,' he broke off, suddenly, turning to the 
 young man, * he seemed to know your people.' 
 
 ' Most men in the financial world do,' said 
 Gunn, a little superciliously. 
 
 * Yes ; but he asked me if you hadn't a 
 relative of some kind in Southern California or 
 Mexico.' 
 
 A slight flush so slight that only the keen, 
 vivaciously observant eyes of Marie noticed it 
 passed over the young man's face. 
 
 * I believe it is a known fact that our branch 
 of the family never emigrated from their native 
 town,' he said emphatically. ' The Gunns were 
 rather peculiar and particular in that respect.' 
 
 ' Then there were no offshoots from the old 
 stock ,' said Gabriel. 
 
 Nevertheless, this pet joke of Gabriel's did 
 not dissipate the constraint and disappointment left 
 upon the company by Uncle Sylvester's unsatisfy- 
 ing performance and early withdrawal, and they 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 267 
 
 separated soon after, Kitty and Marie being glad 
 to escape upstairs together. On the landing they 
 met two of the Irish housemaids in a state of 
 agitated exhaustion. It appeared that the 
 ' sthrange gintleman ' had requested that his bed 
 be remade from bedclothes and bedding always 
 carried with him in his trunks ! From their 
 apologetic tone it was evident that he had libe- 
 rally rewarded them. * Shure, Miss,' protested 
 Norah, in deprecation of Kitty's flashing eye, 
 ' there's thim that's lived among shnakes and 
 poysin riptiles and faverous disayses that's 
 particklar av the beds and sheets they He on. 
 Hisht! Howly Mother! it's something else he's 
 wanting now ! ' 
 
 The door of Uncle Sylvester's room had 
 slowly opened, and a blue pyjama'd sleeve 
 appeared, carefully depositing the sheaf of bows 
 and arrows outside the door. ' I say, Norah, or 
 Bridget there, some of you take those infernal 
 things away. And look out, will you, for the 
 arrow-heads are deadly poison. The fool who 
 got 'em didn't know they were African, and not 
 Indian at all ! And hold on ! ' The hand 
 vanished, and presently reappeared holding two 
 rifles. ' And take these away too ! They're 
 loaded, capped, and not on the half-cock ! A jar, a 
 fall, the slightest shock is enough to send them off!' 
 
268 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 1 I'm dreadfully sorry that you should find it so 
 uncomfortable in our house, Uncle Sylvester,' said 
 Kitty, with a flushed cheek and vibrating voice. 
 
 'Oh, it's you is it?' said Uncle Sylvester's 
 voice, cheerfully. ' I thought it was Bridget out 
 there. No, I don't intend to find it uncomfortable. 
 That's why I'm putting these things outside. But, 
 for Heaven's sake, don't you touch them. Leave 
 that to the ineffable ass who put them there. 
 Good-night ! ' 
 
 The door closed ; the whispering voices of the 
 girls faded from the corridor ; the lights were 
 lowered in the central hall, only the red Cyclopean 
 eye of an enormous columnar stove, like a light- 
 house, gleamed through the darkness. Outside, 
 the silent night sparkled, glistened, and finally 
 paled. Towards morning, having invested the 
 sturdy wooden outer walls of the house and filmed 
 with delicate tracery every available inch of 
 window pane, it seemed stealthily to invade the 
 house itself, stilling and chilling it as it drew 
 closer around its central heart of warmth and life. 
 Only once the frigid stillness was broken by the 
 opening of a door and steps along the corridor. 
 This was preceded by an acrid smell of burning 
 bark. 
 
 It was subtle enough to permeate the upper 
 floor and the bedroom of Marie du Page, who 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 269 
 
 was that night a light and nervous sleeper. Peering 
 from her door, she could see, on the lower corridor, 
 the extraordinary spectacle of Uncle Sylvester, 
 robed in a gorgeous Japanese dressing-gown of 
 quilted satin trimmed with the fur of the blue fox, 
 candle in hand, leisurely examining the wall of the 
 passage. Presently, drawing out a foot-rule from 
 his pocket, he actually began to measure it ! Miss 
 Du Page saw no more. Hurriedly closing her door, 
 she locked and bolted it, firmly convinced that 
 Gabriel Lane was harbouring in the guise of 
 Uncle Sylvester a somnambulist, a maniac, or an 
 impostor. 
 
 PART II 
 
 ' IT doesn't seem as if Uncle Sylvester was any 
 the more comfortable for having his own 
 private bedding with him,' said Kitty Lane, 
 entering Marie's room early the next morning. 
 1 Bridget found him curled up in his furs like a cat 
 asleep on the drawing-room sofa this morning.' 
 
 Marie started ; she remembered her last night's 
 vision. But some instinct she knew not what 
 kept her from revealing it at this moment. She 
 only said, a little ironically 
 
 1 Perhaps he missed the wild freedom of his 
 barbaric life in a small bed-room.' 
 
270 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 i No. Bridget says he said something about 
 being smoked out of his room by a ridiculous 
 wood fire. The idea ! As if a man brought up 
 in the woods couldn't stand a little smoke. No 
 that's his excuse ! Marie ! do you know what I 
 firmly believe ? ' 
 
 ' No,' said Marie, quickly. 
 
 1 1 firmly believe that poor man is ashamed of 
 his past rough life, and does everything he can 
 to forget it. That's why he affects those ultra- 
 civilised and effeminate ways, and goes to the 
 other extreme, as people always do.' 
 
 * Then you think he's really reformed, and 
 isn't likely to take an impulse to rob and murder 
 anybody again ? ' 
 
 ' Why, Marie, what nonsense ! ' 
 
 Nevertheless, Uncle Sylvester appeared quite 
 fresh and cheerful at breakfast. It seemed that 
 he had lit the fire before undressing, but the 
 green logs were piled so far into the room that 
 the smoke nearly suffocated him. Fearful of 
 alarming the house by letting the smoke escape 
 through the door, he opened the window, and 
 when it had partly dispersed, sought refuge him- 
 self from the arctic air of his bedroom in the 
 drawing-room. So far the act did not seem 
 inconsistent with his sanity, or even intelli- 
 gence and consideration for others. But Marie 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 271 
 
 fixed upon him a pair of black, audacious 
 eyes. 
 
 'Did you ever walk in your sleep, Mr. Lane?' 
 
 'No ; but' thoughtfully breaking an egg 'I 
 have ridden, I think.' 
 
 ' In your sleep ? Oh, do tell us all about it ?' 
 said Cousins Jane and Emma in chorus. 
 
 Uncle Sylvester cast a resigned glance out of 
 the window. ' Oh yes certainly ; it isn't much. 
 You see at one time I was in the habit of making 
 long monotonous journeys, and they were often 
 exhausting, and,' he added, becoming weaned as 
 if at the recollection, ' always dreadfully tiresome. 
 As the trail was sometimes very uncertain and 
 dangerous, I rode a very sure-footed mule that 
 could go anywhere where there was space big 
 enough to set her small hoofs upon. One night 
 I was coming down the slope of a mountain 
 towards a narrow valley and river that were 
 crossed by an old, abandoned flume, of which 
 nothing was now left but the upright trestle-work 
 and long horizontal string-piece. As the trail 
 was very difficult and the mule's pace was slow, I 
 found myself dozing at times, and at last I must 
 have fallen asleep. I think I must have been 
 awakened by a singular regularity in the movement 
 of the mule or else it was the monotony of step 
 that had put me to sleep and the cessation of it 
 
272 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 awakened me. You see, at first I was not cer- 
 tain that I wasn't really dreaming. For the trail 
 seemed to have disappeared ; the wall of rock on 
 one side had vanished also, and there appeared to 
 be nothing ahead of me but the opposite hillside.' 
 
 Uncle Sylvester stopped to look out of the 
 window at a passing carriage. Then he went on. 
 ' The moon came out, and I saw what had hap- 
 pened. The mule, either of her own free will, or 
 obeying some movement I had given the reins in 
 my sleep, had swerved from the trail, got on top 
 of the flume, and was actually walking across the 
 valley on the narrow string-piece, a foot wide, 
 half a mile long, and sixty feet from the ground. 
 I knew,' he continued, examining his napkin 
 thoughtfully, ' that she was perfectly surefooted, 
 and that if I kept quiet she could make the 
 passage, but I suddenly remembered that midway 
 there was a break and gap of twenty feet in the 
 continuous line, and that the string-piece was too 
 narrow to allow her to turn round and retrace her 
 steps.' 
 
 ' Good Heavens ! ' said Cousin Jane. 
 
 * I beg your pardon ? ' said Uncle Sylvester, 
 politely. 
 
 < I only said, " Good Heavens ! " Well ? ' she 
 added, impatiently. 
 
 ' Well ? ' repeated Uncle Sylvester vaguely. 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 273 
 
 ' Oh, that's all. I only wanted to explain what I 
 meant by saying I had ridden in my sleep.' 
 
 ' But,' said Cousin Jane, leaning across the 
 table with grim deliberation and emphasising each 
 word with the handle of her knife, ' how did 
 you and that mule get down ? ' 
 
 * Oh, with slings and ropes, you know so,' 
 demonstrating by placing his napkin-ring in a 
 sling made of his napkin. 
 
 ' And I suppose you carried the slings and 
 ropes with you in your five trunks ! ' gasped 
 Cousin Jane. 
 
 ' No. Fellows on the river brought 'em in 
 the morning, Mighty spry chaps, those river 
 miners.' 
 
 ' Very !' said Cousin Jane. 
 
 Breakfast over, they were not surprised that 
 their sybaritic guest excused himself from an 
 inspection of the town in the frigid morning air, 
 and declined joining a skating party to the lake 
 on the ground that he could keep warmer indoors 
 with half the exertion. An hour later found him 
 standing before the fire in Gabriel Lane's study, 
 looking languidly clown on his elder brother. 
 
 ' Then, as far as I can see,' he said quietly, 
 * you have made ducks and drakes of your share 
 of the property, and that virtually you are in the 
 hands of this man Gunn and his father.' 
 
274 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 ' You're putting it too strongly,' said Gabriel, 
 deprecatingly. * In the first place, my investments 
 with Gunn's firm are by no means failures, and 
 they only hold as security a mortgage on the forest 
 land below the hill. It's scarcely worth the 
 money. I would have sold it long ago, but it 
 had been a fancy of father's to keep it wild land 
 for the sake of old times and the healthiness of 
 the town.' 
 
 * There used to be a log cabin there, where 
 the old man had a habit of camping out whenever 
 he felt cramped by civilisation up here, wasn't 
 there ?' said Uncle Sylvester, meditatively. 
 
 * Yes,' said Gabriel, impatiently ; ' it's still 
 there but to return to Mr. Gunn. He has taken 
 a fancy to Kitty, and even if / could not lift the 
 mortgage, there's some possibility that the land 
 would still remain in the family.' 
 
 ' I think I'll drive over this afternoon and take 
 a look at the old shanty if this infernal weather 
 lets up.' 
 
 ' Yes ; but just now, my dear Sylvester, let 
 us attend to business. I want to show you those 
 investments.' 
 
 ' Oh, certainly ; trot 'em out,' said his brother, 
 plucking up a simulation of interest as he took a 
 seat at the table. 
 
 From a drawer of his desk Gabriel brought 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 275 
 
 out a bundle of prospectuses and laid them before 
 Uncle Sylvester. 
 
 A languid smile of recognition lit up the 
 latter's face. ' Ah ! yes,' he said, glancing at 
 them. ' The old lot : " Carmelita," " Santa Maria," 
 and "Preciosa!" Just as I imagined and yet 
 who'd have thought of seeing them here \ A good 
 deal rouged and powdered, Miss Carmelita, since. 
 I first knew you ! Considerably bolstered up by 
 miraculous testimony to your powers, my dear 
 Santa Maria, since the day I found you out, to my 
 cost ! And you too, Preciosa ! a precious lot of 
 money I dropped on you in the old days ! ' 
 
 * You are joking,' said Gabriel, with an uneasy 
 smile. * You don't mean to imply that this stock 
 is old and worthless ? ' 
 
 1 There isn't a capital in America or Europe 
 where for the last five years it hasn't been floated 
 with a new character each time. My dear 
 Gabriel, that stock isn't worth the paper it is 
 printed on.' 
 
 ' But it is impossible that an experienced 
 financier like Gunn could be deceived ! ' 
 
 'I'm sorry to hear that! 
 
 'Come, Sylvester! confess you've taken a 
 prejudice against Gunn from your sudden dislike 
 of his son ! And what have you against him ? ' 
 
 1 I couldn't say exactly,' said Uncle Sylvester 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 reflectively. ' It may be his eyes, or only his 
 cravat ! But,' rising cheerfully and placing his 
 hand lightly on his brother's shoulder, ' don't you 
 worry yourself about that stock, old man ; /'//see 
 that somebody else has the worry and you the 
 cash. And as to the land and Kitty well, you 
 hold on to them both until you find out which the 
 young man is really after.' 
 
 ' And then ? ' said Gabriel, with a smile. 
 
 ' Don't give him either ! But, I say, haven't 
 we had enough business this morning ? Let's 
 talk of something else. Who's the French girl ? ' 
 
 ' Marie ? She's the daughter of Jules du Page 
 don't you remember ? father's friend. When 
 Jules died, it was always thought that father, who 
 had half adopted her as a child, would leave her 
 some legacy. But you know that father died 
 without making a will, and that rich as he was 
 his actual assets were far less than we had reason 
 to expect. Kitty, who felt the disappointment as 
 keenly as her friend, I believe would have divided 
 her own share with her. It's odd, by the way, 
 that father could have been so deceived in the 
 amount of his capital, or how he got rid of 
 his money in a way that we knew nothing of. 
 Do you know, Sylvester, I've sometimes sus- 
 pected 
 
 'What ?' said Uncle Sylvester suddenly. 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 277 
 
 The bored languor of his face had abruptly 
 vanished. Every muscle was alert ; his grey eyes 
 glittered. 
 
 ' That he advanced money to Du Page, who 
 lost it; or that they speculated together/ returned 
 Gabriel, who, following Uncle Sylvester's voice 
 only, had not noticed the change of expression. 
 
 ' That would seem to be a weakness of the 
 Lane family,' said Uncle Sylvester, grimly, with 
 a return of his former carelessness. ( But that 
 is not your own opinion that's a suggestion of 
 someone else ? ' 
 
 ' Well,' said Gabriel, with a laugh and a slight 
 addition of colour, * it was Gunn's theory. As a 
 man of the world and a practical financier, you 
 know. ' 
 
 * And you've talked with him about it ? ' 
 
 ' Yes. It was a matter of general wonder 
 years ago. ' 
 
 ' Very likely but, just now, don't you think 
 we've had enough financial talk ? ' said Uncle 
 Sylvester, with a bored contraction of his eye- 
 brows. ' Come/ looking around the room, 
 ' you've changed the interior of the old house/ 
 
 * Yes. Unfortunately, just after father's death 
 it was put in the hands of a local architect or 
 builder, one of father's old friends, but not a very 
 skilful workman, who made changes while the 
 
278 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 family were away. That's why your present 
 bedroom, which was father's old study, had a slice 
 taken off it to make the corridor larger, and why 
 the big chimney and hearthstone are still there, 
 although the fireplace is modernised. That was 
 Flint's stupidity.' 
 
 ( Whose stupidity? ' asked Uncle Sylvester, 
 trimming his nails. 
 
 ' Flint's the old architect.' 
 
 ' Why didn't you make him change it back 
 again ? ' 
 
 ' He left Lakeville shortly after, and I brought 
 an architect from St. Louis after I returned from 
 Europe. But nothing could be done to your 
 room without taking down the chimney, so it 
 remained as Flint left it.' 
 
 1 That reminds me, Gabriel, I'm afraid I spoke 
 rather cavalierly to Kitty, last night, about the 
 arrangements of the room. The fact is, I've 
 taken a fancy to it, and should like to fit it up 
 myself. Have I your permission ?' 
 
 4 Certainly, my dear Sylvester.' 
 
 ' I've some knick-knacks in my trunks, and I'll 
 do it at once.' 
 
 ' As you like.' 
 
 ' And you'll see that I am not disturbed ; and 
 you'll explain it to Kitty, with my apologies.' 
 
 1 Yes/ 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 279 
 
 ' Then I'm off.' 
 
 Gabriel glanced at his brother with a per- 
 plexed smile. Here was the bored traveller, 
 explorer, gold-seeker, soldier of fortune, actually 
 as pleased as a girl over the prospect of arranging 
 his room ! He called after him : * Sylvester ! ' 
 
 'Yes.' 
 
 ' I say, if you could, you know, just try to 
 interest these people to-night with some of your 
 adventures something told seriously, you know, 
 as if you really were in earnest I'd be awfully 
 obliged to you. The fact is you'll excuse me 
 but they think you don't come up to your repu- 
 tation.' 
 
 * They want a story ? ' 
 
 'Yes one of your experiences.' 
 
 ' I'll give them one. Ta-ta ! ' 
 
 For the rest of the day Uncle Sylvester was 
 invisible, although his active presence in his room 
 was betrayed by the sound of hammering and 
 moving of furniture. As the remainder of the 
 party were skating on the lake, this eccentricity 
 was not remarked except by one Marie du Page 
 who on pretence of a slight cold had stayed at 
 home. But with her suspicions of the former 
 night, she had determined to watch the singular 
 relative of her friend. Added to a natural loyalty 
 to the Lanes, she was moved by a certain curiosity 
 
28o THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 and fascination towards this incomprehensible 
 man. 
 
 The house was very quiet when she stole out 
 of her room and passed softly along the corridor ; 
 she examined the wall carefully to discover any- 
 thing that might have excited the visitor's attention. 
 There were a few large engravings hanging there ; 
 could he have designed to replace them by some 
 others ? Suddenly she was struck with the dis- 
 tinct conviction that the wall of the corridor did 
 not coincide with the wall of his room as re- 
 presented by the line of the door. There was 
 certainly a space between the two walls unac- 
 counted for. This was undoubtedly what had 
 attracted his attention ; but what business was it of 
 his? 
 
 She reflected that she had seen in the wall of 
 the conservatory an old closed staircase, now used 
 as shelves for dried herbs and seeds, which she 
 had been told was the old-time communication 
 between the garden and Grandfather Lane's 
 study the room now occupied by the stranger. 
 Perhaps it led still further, and thus accounted for 
 the space. Determined to satisfy herself, she 
 noiselessly descended to the conservatory. There, 
 surely, was the staircase a narrow flight of 
 wooden steps encumbered with packages of herbs 
 losing itself in upper darkness. By the aid of 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 281 
 
 a candle she managed to grope and pick her way 
 up step by step. Then she paused. The stair- 
 case had abruptly ended on the level of the study, 
 now cut off from it by the new partition. She 
 was in a stifling enclosure, formed by the walls, 
 scarcely eighteen inches wide. It was made 
 narrower by a singular excrescence on the old 
 wall, which seemed to have been a bricked closet, 
 now half destroyed and in ruins. She turned to 
 descend, when a strange sound from Uncle Syl- 
 vester's room struck her ear. It was the sound 
 of tapping on the floor close to the partition, with- 
 in a foot of where she was standing. At the 
 same moment there was a decided movement of 
 the plank of the flooring beneath the partition : it 
 began to slide slowly, and then was gradually 
 withdrawn into the room. With prompt presence 
 of mind, she instantly extinguished her candle and 
 drew herself breathlessly against the partition. 
 
 When the plank was entirely withdrawn, a ray 
 of light slipped through the opening, revealing 
 the bare rafters of the floor, and a hand and 
 arm inserted under the partition, groping as if 
 towards the bricked closet. As the fingers of 
 the exploring hand were widely extended, Marie 
 had no difficulty in recognising on one of them a 
 peculiar signet ring which Uncle Sylvester wore. 
 A swift impulse seized her. To the audacious 
 
282 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 Marie impulse and action were the same thing. 
 Bending stealthily over the aperture, she suddenly 
 snatched the ring from the extended finger. The 
 hand was quickly withdrawn with a start and un- 
 controlled exclamation, and she availed herself of 
 that instant to glide rapidly down the stairs. 
 
 She regained her room stealthily, having the 
 satisfaction a moment later of hearing Uncle 
 Sylvester's door open and the sound of his foot- 
 steps in the corridor. But he was evidently un- 
 able to discover any outer ingress to the enclosure, 
 or believed the loss of his ring an accident, for he 
 presently returned. Meantime, what was she to 
 do ? Tell Kitty of her discovery, and show the 
 ring ? No not yet ! Oddly enough, now that 
 she had the ring, taken from his wicked finger in 
 the very act, she found it as difficult as ever to 
 believe in his burglarious design. She must wait. 
 The mischief if there had been mischief was 
 done ; the breaking in of the bricked closet was, 
 from the appearance of the ruins, a bygone act. 
 Could it have been some youthful escapade of 
 Uncle Sylvester's, the scene of which he was re- 
 visiting as criminals are compelled to do ? And 
 had there been anything taken from the closet 
 or was its destruction a part of the changes in 
 the old house ? How could she find out with- 
 out asking Kitty ? There was one way. She 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 283 
 
 remembered that Mr. Gunn had once shown a 
 great deal of interest to Kitty about the old 
 homestead, and even of old Mr. Lane's woodland 
 cabin. She would ask him. It was a friendly 
 act, for Kitty had not of late been very kind to him. 
 
 The opportunity presented itself at dusk, as 
 Mr. Gunn, somewhat abstracted, stood apart 
 at the drawing-room window. Marie hoped he 
 had enjoyed himself while skating ; her stupid 
 cold had kept her indoors. She had amused her- 
 self rambling about the old homestead ; it was 
 such a queer place, so full of old nooks and 
 corners and unaccountable spaces. Just the place, 
 she would think, where old treasures might have 
 been stored. Eh ? 
 
 Mr. Gunn had not spoken he had only 
 coughed. But in the darkness his eyes were 
 fixed angrily on her face. Without observing it, 
 she went on. She knew he was interested in the 
 old house ; she had heard him talk to Kitty about 
 it : had Kitty ever said anything about some old 
 secret hoarding place ? 
 
 No, certainly not ! And she was mistaken, he 
 never was interested in the house ! He could not 
 understand what had put that idea in her head ! 
 Unless it was this ridiculous, shady stranger in 
 the guise of an uncle whom they had got there. 
 It was like his affectation ! 
 
284 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 ' Oh, dear, no,' said Marie, with unmistakable 
 truthfulness, ' he did not say anything. But,' 
 with sudden inconsistent aggression, ' is that the 
 way you speak to Kitty of her uncle ? ' 
 
 Really he didn't know he was joking only, 
 and he was afraid he must just now ask her to 
 excuse him. He had received letters that made 
 it possible that he might be called suddenly to 
 New York at any moment. Marie stared. It 
 was evident that he had proposed to Kitty and 
 been rejected ! But she was no nearer her dis- 
 covery. 
 
 Nor was there the least revelation in the calm, 
 half-bored, yet good-humoured presence of the 
 wicked uncle at dinner. So indifferent did he 
 seem, not only to his own villainy but even to the 
 loss it had entailed, that she had a wild impulse 
 to take the ring from her pocket and display it on 
 her own finger before him then and there. But 
 the conviction that he would in some way be equal 
 to the occasion prevented her. The dinner passed 
 off with some constraint, no doubt emanating 
 from the conscious Kitty and Gunn. Neverthe- 
 less, when they had returned to the drawing-room, 
 Gabriel rubbed his hands expectantly. 
 
 '.I prevailed on Sylvester this morning to 
 promise to tell us some of his experiences some- 
 thing complete and satisfactory this time. Eh ? ' 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 285 
 
 Uncle Sylvester, warming his* cold blood 
 before the fire, looked momentarily forgetful and 
 disappointing. Cousins Jane and Emma 
 shrugged their shoulders. 
 
 ' Eh,' said Uncle Sylvester, absently, ' er er 
 Oh yes! Well' (more cheerfully), ' about what, 
 eh?' ' 
 
 1 Let it be,' said Marie, pointedly, fixing her 
 black magnetic eyes on the wicked stranger, ' let 
 it be something about the discovery of gold, or a 
 buried treasure hoard, or a robbery.' 
 
 To her intense disgust Uncle Sylvester, far 
 from being discomfited or confused, actually looked 
 pleased, and his grey eyes thawed slightly. 
 
 'Certainly,' he said. 'Well, then! Down on 
 the San Joaquin River there was an old chap 
 one of the earliest settlers in fact he'd come on 
 from Oregon before the gold discovery. His 
 name, dear me ! ' continued Uncle Sylvester, 
 with an effort of memory and apparently be- 
 ginning already to lose his interest in the story 
 ' was er Flint.' 
 
 As Uncle Sylvester paused here, Cousin Jane 
 broke in impatiently. ' Well, that's not an 
 uncommon name. There was an old carpenter 
 here in your father's time who was called Flint. 
 
 ' Yes,' said Uncle Sylvester, languidly. ' But 
 there is, or was, something uncommon about it 
 
286 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 and that's the point of the story, for in the old time 
 Flint and Gunn were of the same stock.' 
 
 ' Is this a Californian joke ? ' said Gunn, with a 
 forced smile on his flushed face. ' If so, spare me, 
 for it's an old one.' 
 
 * It's much older history, Mr. Gunn,' said 
 Uncle Sylvester blandly, 'which I remember 
 from a boy. When the first Flint traded near 
 Sault Sainte Marie, the Canadian voyageurs lite- 
 rally translated his name into Pierre a Fusil, and 
 he went by that name always. But when the 
 English superseded the French in numbers and lan- 
 guage the name was literally translated back again 
 into " Peter Gunn," which his descendants bear.' 
 
 * A laboured form of the old joke,' said Gunn, 
 turning contemptuously away. 
 
 ' But the story,' said Cousins Jane and Emma. 
 ' The story of the gold discovery never mind the 
 names.' 
 
 ' Excuse me,' said Uncle Sylvester, placing 
 his hand in the breast of his coat with a delightful 
 exaggeration of offended dignity. ' But, doubts 
 having been cast upon my preliminary statement, I 
 fear I must decline proceeding further.' Never- 
 theless, he smiled unblushingly at Miss Du Page 
 as he followed Gunn from the room. 
 
 The next morning those who had noticed the 
 strained relations of Miss Kitty and Mr. Gunn 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 287 
 
 were not suprised that the latter was recalled on 
 pressing business to New York by the first train ; 
 but it was a matter of some astonishment to 
 Gabriel Lane and Marie du Page that Uncle 
 Sylvester should have' been up early, and actually 
 accompanied that gentleman as far as the station ! 
 Indeed, the languid explorer and gold-seeker ex- 
 hibited remarkable activity, and, clad in a rough 
 tourist suit, announced, over the breakfast-table, 
 his intention of taking a long tramp through the 
 woods, which he had not revisited since a boy. 
 To this end he had even provided himself with a 
 small knapsack, and for once realised Kitty's ideal 
 of his character. 
 
 ' Don't go too far,' said Gabriel, ' for, although 
 the cold has moderated, the barometer is falling 
 fast, and there is every appearance of snow. Take 
 care you are not caught in one of our blizzards.' 
 
 ' But you are all going on the lake to skate ! ' 
 protested Uncle Sylvester. 
 
 ' Yes ; for the very reason that it may be our 
 last chance ; but should it snow we shall be nearer 
 home than you may be.' 
 
 Nevertheless, when it came on to snow, as 
 Gabriel had predicted, the skating party was by 
 no means so near home as he had imagined. A 
 shrewd keenness and some stimulating electric con- 
 dition of the atmosphere had tempted the young 
 
288 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 people far out on the lake, and they had ignored the 
 first fall of fine greyish granulations that swept along 
 the icy surface like little puffs of dust or smoke. 
 Then the fall grew thicker, the grey sky contracted, 
 the hurrying flakes, dashed against them by a fierce 
 north-wester, were larger, heavier, and seemed an 
 almost palpable force that held them back. Their 
 skates, already clogged with drift, were beginning 
 to be useless. The bare wind-swept spaces were 
 becoming rarer ; they could only stumble on blindly 
 towards the nearest shore. Nor when they reached 
 it were they yet safe ; they could scarcely stand 
 against the still increasing storm that w r as fast 
 obliterating the banks and stretch of meadow be- 
 yond. Their only hope of shelter was the range 
 of woods that joined the hill. Holding hands in 
 single file, the little party, consisting of Kitty, 
 Marie, and Cousins Jane and Emma stout- 
 hearted Gabriel leading and Cousin John bring- 
 ing up the rear at last succeeded in reaching it, 
 and were rejoiced to find themselves near old 
 Lane's half-ruined cabin. To their added joy and 
 astonishment, whiffs of whirling smoke were issuing 
 from the crumbling chimney. They ran to the 
 crazy door, pushed aside its weak fastening, and 
 found Uncle Sylvester calmly enjoying a pipe 
 before a blazing fire. A small pickaxe and crow- 
 bar were lying upon a mound of freshly-turned 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 289 
 
 earth beside the chimney, where the rotten floor- 
 ing had been torn up. 
 
 The tumultuous entrance of the skating party 
 required no explanation ; but when congratulations 
 had been exchanged, the wet snow shaken off, and 
 they had drawn round the fire, curious eyes were 
 cast upon the solitary occupant and the pile of earth 
 and ddbris before him. 
 
 1 1 believe,' said Gabriel, laughingly, ' that you 
 have been so bored here that you have actually 
 played at gold-hunting for amusement.' 
 
 Uncle Sylvester took the pipe from his mouth 
 and nodded. 
 
 4 It's a common diversion of yours,' said Marie 
 audaciously. 
 
 Uncle Sylvester smiled sweetly. 
 
 * And have you been successful this time ? ' 
 asked Marie. 
 
 ' I got the colour.' 
 
 ' Eh?' 
 
 Uncle Sylvester rose and placed himself with 
 his back to the fire, gently surveying the assembled 
 group. 
 
 ' I was interrupted in a story of gold-digging 
 last evening,' he said blandly. ' How far had I 
 
 g ot ? ' Bancroft Libmty 
 
 ' You were down on the San Joaquin 
 River in the spring of '50, with a chap named 
 
 u 
 
290 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 UNCLE SYLVESTER TOOK THE PIPE FROM HIS MOUTH 
 
 Flint,' chorused Cousins Jane and Emma, 
 promptly. 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 291 
 
 * Ah ! yes,' said Uncle Sylvester. Well, in 
 those days there was a scarcity of money in the 
 diggings. Gold dust there was in plenty, but no 
 coin. You can fancy it was a bother to weigh out 
 a pinch of dust every time you wanted a drink of 
 whisky or a pound of flour ; but there was no 
 other legal tender. Pretty soon, however, a lot of 
 gold and silver pieces found their way into circula- 
 tion in our camp and the camps around us. They 
 were foreign old French and English coins. 
 Here's one of them that I kept.' He took from 
 his pocket a gold coin and handed it to Gabriel. 
 
 Lane rose to his feet with an exclamation : 
 ' Why, this is like the louis-d'or that grandfather 
 saved through the war and gave to father.' 
 
 Uncle Sylvester took the coin back, placed it 
 in his left eye, like a monocle, and winked gravely 
 at the company. 
 
 1 It is the same \ ' he went on quietly. * I 
 was interested, for I had a good memory, and I 
 remembered that, as a boy, grandfather had shown 
 me one of those coins and told me he was keeping 
 them for old Jules du Page, whc didn't believe 
 in banks and bank-notes. Well, I traced them 
 to a trader called Flint, who was shipping gold 
 dust from Stockton to Peter Gunn & Sons, in 
 New York.' 
 
 * To whom ? ' asked Gabriel, quickly. 
 
292 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 1 Old Gunn the father of your friend ! ' said 
 Uncle Sylvester, blandly. ' We talked the matter 
 over on our way to the station this morning. 
 Well, to return. Flint only said that he had got 
 them from a man called Thompson, who had got 
 them from somebody else in exchange for goods. 
 A year or two afterwards this same Thompson 
 happened to be frozen up with me in Starvation 
 Camp. When he thought he was dying he con- 
 fessed that he had been bribed by Flint to say 
 what he had said, but that he believed the coins 
 were stolen. Meantime, Flint had disappeared. 
 Other things claimed my attention. I had quite 
 forgotten him, until one night, five years after- 
 wards, I blundered into a deserted mining camp, 
 by falling asleep on my mule, who carried me across 
 a broken flume, but I think I told you that story 
 already.' 
 
 ' You never finished it,' said Cousin Jane 
 sharply. 
 
 1 Let me do so now, then. I was really saved 
 by some Indians, who took me for a spirit up 
 aloft there in the moonlight and spread the alarm. 
 The first white man they brought me was a 
 wretched drunkard known to the boys as " Old 
 Fusil," or " Fusel Oil," who went into delirium 
 tremens at the sight of me. Well, who do you 
 suppose he turned out to be ? Flint ! Flint 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 293 
 
 played out and ruined ! Cast off and discarded by 
 his relations in New York the foundation of 
 whose fortunes he had laid by the villainy they 
 had accepted and condoned. For Flint, as the 
 carpenter of the old homestead, had discovered 
 the existence of a bricked closet in the wall of 
 father's study, partitioned it off so that he could 
 break into -it without detection and rifle it at his 
 leisure, and who had thus carried off that part of 
 grandfather's hoard which father had concealed 
 there. He knew it could never be missed by the 
 descendants. But, through haste or ignorance, 
 he did not to^lch the papers and documents also 
 hidden there. And they told of the existence of 
 grandfather's second cache, or hiding-place, beneath 
 this hearth, and were left for me to discover.' 
 
 He coolly relit his pipe, fixed his eyes on 
 Marie without apparently paying attention to the 
 breathless scrutiny of the others, and went on : 
 ' Flint, alias Pierre a Fusil, alias Gunn, died a 
 maniac. I resolved to test the truth of his story. 
 I came here. I knew the old homestead, as a 
 boy who had wandered over every part of it, far 
 better than you, Gabriel, or anyone. The elder 
 Gunn had only heard of it through the criminal 
 disclosure of his relative, and only wished to 
 absorb it through his son in time, and thus 
 obliterate all trace of Flint's outrage. I recognised 
 
294 THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 
 
 the room perfectly thanks to our dear Kitty, 
 who had taken up the carpet which thus disclosed 
 the loose plank before the closet that was hidden 
 by the partition. Under pretext of re-arranging 
 the room for which Kitty will forgive me I 
 spent the day behind a locked door, making my 
 way through the partition. There I found the 
 rifled closet, but the papers intact. They con- 
 tained a full description of the sum taken by Flint, 
 but also of a larger sum buried in a cask beside this 
 chimney. I had just finished unearthing it a few 
 moments before you came. I had at first hoped 
 to offer it to the family as a Christmas gift to- 
 morrow, but He stopped and sucked slowly 
 at his pipe. 
 
 ' We anticipated you,' said Gabriel laughing. 
 
 ' No,' said Uncle Sylvester .coolly. ' But 
 because it don't happen to belong to you at all I 
 According to the paper I have in my pocket, 
 which is about as legal a document as I ever saw, 
 it is father's free gift to Miss Marie du Page.' 
 
 Kitty threw her arms around her white and 
 breathless friend with a joyful cry, and honest 
 Gabriel's face shone with unselfish gratification. 
 
 ' For yourself, my dear Gabriel, you must be 
 satisfied with the fact that Messrs. Peter Gunn 
 & Sons will take back your wild-cat stock at 
 the price you paid for it. It is the price they pay 
 
THEIR UNCLE FROM CALIFORNIA 295 
 
 for their share in this little transaction, as I had 
 the honour of pointing out to Mr. Gunn on our 
 way to the station this morning.' 
 
 * Then you think that young Mr. Gunn knew 
 that Flint was his relation, and that he had stolen 
 father's money,' said Kitty, ' and that Mr. Gunn 
 
 only wanted to ' She stopped, with flashing 
 
 eyes. 
 
 ' I think he would have liked to have made 
 an arrangement, my dear, that would keep the 
 secret and the property in the family,' said Uncle 
 Sylvester. ' But I don't think he suspected the 
 existence of the second treasure here.' 
 
 'And then, sir,' said Cousin Jane, 'it appears 
 that all these wretched, unsatisfactory scraps of 
 stories you were telling us were nothing after all 
 but- 
 
 ' My way of telling this one,' said Uncle 
 Sylvester. 
 
 As the others were eagerly gathering around 
 the unearthed treasure, Marie approached him 
 timidly, all her audacity gone, tears in her eyes, 
 and his ring held hesitatingly between her fingers. 
 ' How can I thank you and how can you ever 
 forgive me ? ' 
 
 'Well,' said Uncle Sylvester, gazing at her 
 critically, ' you might keep the ring to think over it.' 
 
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 "My Love!" I Sowing the Wind. 
 
 The Atonement of Learn Dundas. 
 The World Well Lost. 
 
 By HENRY W. LUCY. 
 Gideon Fleyce. 
 
 By JUSTIN MCCARTHY. 
 
 A Fair Saxon. I Donna Quixote. 
 Linley Rochford. Maid of Athens. 
 Miss Misanthrope. I Camiola. 
 The Waterdale Neighbours. 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 
 By AGNES MACDONELL. 
 Quaker Cousins. 
 
 By D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 Life's Atonement. Val Strange. 
 Joseph's Coat. Hearts. 
 
 Coals of Fire. A Model Father. 
 
 Old Blazer's Hero. 
 By the Gate of the Sea. 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 First Person Singular. I Cynic Fortune. 
 The Way of the World. 
 
 By MURRAY & HERMAN. 
 The Bishops' Bible. 
 Paul Jones's Alias. 
 
 By HUME NISBET. 
 "Bail Up!" 
 
 By GEORGES OHNET. 
 A Weird Gift. 
 
 By Mrs. OLIP1IANT. 
 Uniteladies, 
 
 THE PICCADILLY (3/6) NOVELS continued. 
 
 By OUIDA. 
 
 Held in Bondage. \ Two Little Wooden 
 Strathmore. Shoes. 
 
 Chandos. In a Winter City. 
 
 Under Two Flags, j Ariadne. 
 
 Idalia. 
 CecilCastlemaine's 
 Gage. 
 
 Friendship. 
 Moths. | Ruffino. 
 Pipistrello. 
 
 Tricotrin. 1 Puck. ! AYillage Commune 
 Folle Farine. j Bimbi. | Wanda. 
 
 A Dog of Flanders, i Frescoes.! Othmar. 
 Pascarel. | Signa. j In Maremma. 
 
 aprax- ) Syrlin.l Guilderoy. 
 Santa Barbara. 
 
 Princess 
 ine. 
 By MARGARET A. PAUL. 
 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 By JAMES PAYN. 
 
 Lost Sir Massingberd. 
 
 Less Black than We're Painted. 
 
 A Confidential Agent. 
 
 A Grape from a Thorn. 
 
 In Peril and Privation. 
 
 The Mystery of Mirbridge. 
 
 The Canon's Ward. 
 
 Walter's Word. Talk of the Town 
 
 By Proxy. Holiday Tasks. 
 
 High Spirits. The Burnt Million. 
 
 Under One Roof. The Word and the 
 
 From Exile. Will. 
 
 Glow-worm Tales. Sunny Stories. 
 
 By E. C. PRICE. 
 Yalentina. | The Foreigners. 
 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. 
 
 By RICHARD PRYCE. 
 Miss Maxwell's Affections. 
 
 By CHARLES READE. 
 It is Never Too Late to Mend. 
 The Double Marriage. 
 Love Me Little, Love Me Long. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 The Course of True Love. 
 The Autobiography of a Thief. 
 Put Yourself in his Place. 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 Singleheart and Doubleface. 
 Good Storiesof Men and other Animals. 
 Hard Cash. I Wandering Heir. 
 
 Peg Woffington. | A Woman-Hater. 
 
 Christie Johnstdne. 
 
 A Simpleton. 
 
 Griffith Gaunt. Readiana. 
 Foul Play. The Jilt. 
 
 A Perilous Secret. 
 
 By Mrs. J. II. RIDDEL L. 
 The Prince of Wales's Garden P&rty. 
 Weird Stories. 
 
 By F. W. ROBINSON. 
 Women are Strange. 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
 By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 An Ocean Tragedy. 
 My Shipmate Louise. 
 Alone on a Wide Wide Sea. 
 
 By JOHN SAUNDERS. 
 Guy Waterman. I Two Dreamers. 
 Bound to the Wheel. 
 The Lion in the Path. 
 By KATHARINE SAUNDERS 
 Margaret and Elizabeth. 
 Gideon's Rock. [ Heart Salvage. 
 The High Mills, I Sebastian. 
 
CHATTO & WINDUS, 214, PICCADILLY. 
 
 29 
 
 THE PICCADILLY (3/6) NOVELS continued. 
 
 By LUKE SHARP. 
 In a Steamer Chair. 
 
 By HAWLEY SMART. 
 Without Love or Licence. 
 
 By R. A. STB: 15 A DALE. 
 The Afghan Knife. 
 
 By BERTHA THOMAS. 
 Proud Maisie. j The Violin-player. 
 
 By FRANCES E. TROLLOPE. 
 
 Like Ships upon the Sea. 
 Anne Furness. I Mabel's Progress. 
 By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c. 
 
 Stories from Foreign Novelists. 
 
 THE PICCADILLY (3/6) NOVELS continued. 
 
 By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. 
 Frau Frohmann. I Kept in the Dark. 
 Marion Fay. Land-Leaguers. 
 
 The Way We Live Now. 
 Mr. Scarborough's Family. 
 
 By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER. 
 Mistress Judith. 
 
 By SARAH TYTLER. 
 The Bride's Pass. | Lady Bell/ 
 Buried Diamonds. 
 The Blackball Ghosts. 
 
 By MARK TWAIN. 
 The American Claimant. 
 
 By J. S. WINTER. 
 A Soldier's Children. 
 
 CHEAP EDITIONS OF POPULAR NOVELS. 
 
 Post 8vo, illustrated boards, 2s. each. 
 
 By ARTEMUS WARD. 
 
 Artemus Ward Complete. 
 
 By EDMOND ABOUT. 
 
 The Fellah. 
 
 By HAMILTON AIDE. 
 
 Carr of Carrlyon. | Confidences. 
 By MARY ALBERT. 
 
 Brooke Finchley's Daughter. 
 
 By Mix. ALEXANDER. 
 Maid, Wife, or Widow? | Valerie' Fate. 
 
 By GRANT ALLEN. 
 Strange Stories. I The Devil's Die. 
 Philistia. This Mortal Coil. 
 
 Babylon. I In all Shades. 
 
 The Beckoning Hand. 
 For Maimie's Sake, j Tents of Shem. 
 Great Taboo. I Dumaresq's Daughter. 
 
 By E. LESTER ARNOLD. 
 Phra the Phoenician. 
 
 By ALAN ST. AUBYN. 
 A Fellow of Trinity. | The Junior Dean. 
 By Rev. S. BARING GOULD. 
 Red Spider. | Eve. 
 
 By FRANK BARRETT. 
 Fettered for Life. 
 Between Life and Death. 
 The Sin of Olga Zassoulich. 
 Folly Morrison. Honest Davie. 
 Lieut. Barnabas. A Prodigal's Progress. 
 Found Guilty. I A Recoiling Vengeance. 
 For Love and Honour. 
 John Ford ; and His Helpmate. 
 Little Lady Linton. 
 
 By W. BESANT & .1. RICE. 
 This Son of Vulcan. By Celia's Arbour. 
 My Little Girl. Monks of Thelema. 
 
 CassofMr.Lucraft. The Seamy Side. 
 Golden Butterfly. Ten Years' Tenant. 
 Ready-Money Mortiboy. 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay. 
 The Chaplain of the Fleet, 
 BySIIELSLE Y BEAUCHAMP. 
 Grantley Grange. 
 
 By AMBROSE BIERCE. 
 In the Midst of Life. 
 
 By FREDERICK BOYLE. 
 Camp Notes. | Savage Life, 
 
 Chronicles of No-man's Land, 
 
 By WALTER BESANT. 
 
 Dorothy Forster. I Uncle Jack. 
 
 Children of Gibeon. | Herr Paulus. 
 
 All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
 
 The Captains' Room. 
 
 All in a Garden Fair. 
 
 The World Went Very Well Then. 
 
 For Faith and Freedom. 
 
 To Call Her Mine. 
 
 The Bell of St. Paul's. | The Holy Rose. 
 
 Armorel of Lyonesse. 
 
 St. Katherine's by the Tower. 
 
 By BRET HARTE. 
 Californian Stories. | Gabriel Conroy. 
 An Heiress of Red Dog. I Flip. 
 
 I Dh n c k R arin g Camp. Maruja. 
 A Phyllis of the Sierras. 
 
 BRYDGES. 
 
 Uncle Sam at Home. 
 
 By ROBERT BUCHANAN. 
 
 The Shadow of the The Martyrdom of 
 
 Sword. Madeline. 
 
 A Child of Nature. Annan Water. 
 God and the Man. The New Abelard. 
 Love Me for Ever. Matt. 
 Foxglove Manor. The Heir of Linne. 
 The Master of the Mine. 
 
 By HALL CAINE. 
 The Shadow of a Crime. 
 A Son of Hagar. | The Deemster. 
 
 By Commander CAMERON. 
 The Cruise of the "Black Prince." 
 By Mrs. LOVETT CAMERON. 
 Deceivers Ever. | Juliet's Guardian. 
 
 By AUSTIN CLARE. 
 For the Love of a Lass. 
 
 By Mrs. ARCHER CLIVE. 
 Paul Ferroll. 
 Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife. 
 
 By MACLAREN COBBAN. 
 The Cure of Souls. 
 
 By C. ALLSTON COLLINS. 
 The Bar Sinister. 
 
 MORT. & FRANCES COLLINS. 
 Sweet Anne Page. I Transmigration. 
 From Midnight to Midnight. 
 Fight with Fortune. | Village Comedy. 
 Sweet and Twenty. | You Play me False. 
 Blacksmith and Scholar. | Frances, 
 
BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 TWO-SHILLING NOVELS continued. 
 By WILK.IH COLLINS. 
 
 Armadale. 
 After Dark. 
 No Name. 
 Antonina. I Basil. 
 Hide and Seek. 
 The Dead Secret. 
 Queen cf Hearts. 
 Miss or Mrs ? 
 New Magdalen. 
 The Frozen Deep. 
 Law and the Lady. 
 
 My Miscellanies. 
 Woman in White. 
 The Moonstone. 
 Man and Wife. 
 Poor Miss Finch. 
 The Fallen Leaves. 
 Jezebel's Daughter 
 The Black Robe. 
 Heart and Science. 
 "I Say No." 
 The Evil Genius. 
 
 The Two Destinies. I Little Novels. 
 
 Haunted Hotel. 
 A Rogue's Life. 
 
 Legacy of Cain. 
 Blind Love. 
 
 By Iff. J. COLO.UHOUN. 
 
 Every Inch a Soldier. 
 
 JBy DUTTON COOK. 
 Leo. I Paul Foster's Daughter. 
 
 By C.EGBERT CRADO1'Bi. 
 
 Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains. 
 
 By MATT CUft 151. 
 Adventures of a Fair Rebel. 
 
 By B. M. CROKER. 
 Pretty Miss Neville. I Bird of Passage. 
 Diana Barrington. | Proper Pride. 
 By WILLIAM CYPLES. 
 Hearts of Gold. 
 
 By ALPHONSE DAUDET. 
 The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation. 
 By ERASMUS DAWSON. 
 The Fountain of Youth. 
 
 By .1 A. TIES DE MILLE. 
 A Castle in Spain. 
 
 By .9. LEITH DERWENT. 
 Our Lady of Tears. | Circe's Lovers. 
 
 By CHARLES DICKENS. 
 Sketches by Boz. I Oliver Twist. 
 Pickwick Papers. | Nicholas Nickleby. 
 
 By WICK DONOVAN. 
 The Han-Hunter. | Caught at Lastt 
 Tracked and Taken. | Wanted ! 
 Who Poisoned Hetty Duncan? 
 The Man from Manchester. 
 A Detective's Triumphs. 
 In the Grip of the Law. 
 From Information Received. 
 Tracked to Doom. 
 
 By ITlrs. ANNIE EDWARDES. 
 A Point of Honour. | Archie Lovcll. 
 By 1TI. BETH A M-ED WARDS. 
 Felicia. I Kitty. 
 
 By EDWARD EGGLESTON. 
 
 IJy G. MANVILLE FENN. 
 The New Mistress. 
 
 By PERCY FITZGERALD. 
 
 Bella Donna. I Polly. 
 
 Never Forgotten. I Fatal Zero. 
 The Second Mrs. Tillotson. 
 Seventy-five Brooke Street. 
 The Lady of Brantome. 
 By PERCY FITZGERALD 
 
 mid otlnrs. 
 Strange Secrets. 
 
 ALBANY DE FONBLANCJUE. 
 Filthy Lucre. 
 
 By R. E. FRANCILLON. 
 
 Two- SHILLING NOVELS continued. 
 
 By HAROLD FREDEISI fit. 
 
 Seth's Brother's Wife. 
 
 The Lawton Gir!. 
 
 Pref.by Sir BARTLE FRERE. 
 
 Pandurang Harl. 
 
 By IIA1N FRISWELL. 
 One of Two. 
 
 By EDWARD GARRETT. 
 The Capel Girls. 
 
 By CHARLES GIBBON. 
 Robin Gray. In Honour Bound. 
 
 Fancy Free. Flower of Forest. 
 
 For Lack of Gold. Braes of Yarrow. 
 What will the The Golden Shaft. 
 
 World Say? Of High Degree. 
 
 In Love and Y/ar. Mead and Stream. 
 For the King. Loving a Dream. 
 
 In Pastures Grean. A Hard Knot. 
 Queen of Meadow. Heart's Delight. 
 A Heart's Problem. Blood-Money. 
 The Dead Heart. 
 
 By WILLIAM GILBERT. 
 Dr. Austin's Guests. I James Duke. 
 The Wizard of the Mountain. 
 
 By ERNEST GLANVflLLE. 
 The Lost Heiress. I The Fossicker 
 By HENRY GKEVILLE. 
 A Noble Woman. | Nikanor. 
 
 By JOHN IIABBERTON. 
 Brueton's Bayou. | Country Luck. 
 
 By ANDREW HALLIDAV. 
 Every-Day Papers. 
 
 By Lady DUFFUS HARDY. 
 Paul Y/ynter's Sacrifice. 
 
 By THOMAS HARDY. 
 Under the Greenwood Tree. 
 By .1. BERWICK. HARWOOD. 
 The Tenth Earl. 
 
 By JULIAN HAWTHORNE. 
 
 Sebastian Strome. 
 
 Dust. 
 
 Beatrix Randolph. 
 
 Love or a Namo. 
 
 Olympia. 
 One by One. 
 A Real Queen. 
 
 Queen Cophetua. 
 King or Knave? 
 Romances of Law. 
 
 Garth. 
 
 Ellice Quentin. 
 
 Fortune's Fool. 
 
 Miss Cadogna. 
 
 David Poindexter's Disappearance. 
 
 The Spectre of the Camera. 
 
 By Sir ARTHUR HELPS. 
 Ivan de Biron. 
 
 By B4EJVRY HEKiTIAN. 
 A Leading Lady. 
 
 By Mr*. CASIIEL HOEY. 
 The Lover's Creed. 
 
 By Mrs. GEORGE HOOPER. 
 The House of Raby. 
 
 By TIGHE HOPKINS. 
 'Twixt Love and Duty. 
 
 Bv Mrs. HUNGERFOSS!>. 
 A Maiden all Forlorn. 
 In Durance Yile. I A Mental Stru "!e 
 Marvel. | A Modern CircV. 
 
 By Mrs. ALFRED HUNT. 
 Thornicroft's Model. I Self-Condemned. 
 That Other Person. | Leaden Casket. 
 
 By JEAN INGE LOW. 
 Fated to be Free. 
 
 By HARRIETT JAY 
 The Dark Colleen. 
 The Queen of Connaught. 
 
 By MARK KEKSggAW. 
 Colonial Facts and Fictions. 
 
CHATTO & WINDUS, 214, PICCADILLY. 
 
 TWO-SHILLING NOVELS continued. 
 By R. A SHE KINO. 
 A Drawn Game. | Passion's Slave. 
 " The Wearing of the Green." 
 Bell Barry. 
 
 By JOHN IjE Yri. 
 The Lindsays. 
 
 By E. J,YNN I..INTON. 
 Patricia Kemball. Paston Carew. 
 World Well Lost. "My Love!" 
 Under which Lord? lone. 
 The Atonement of Learn Dundas. 
 With a Silken Thread. 
 The Rebel of the Family. 
 Sowing the Wind. 
 
 By HENRY W. 1,UCY. 
 Gideon Fleyce. 
 
 If y JUSTIN MCCARTHY. 
 A Fair Saxon. I Donna Quixote. 
 Linley Rochford. Maid of Athens. 
 Miss Misanthrope. | Gamiola. 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 The Waterdale Neighbours. 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 
 By HUGH MACCOLT,. 
 Mr. Stranger's Sealed Packet. 
 
 By AGNES III AC DONE 1,1 J( 
 Quaker Cousins. 
 
 KATHARINE s. MACQUOID. 
 
 The Evil Eye. | Lost Rose. 
 
 By W. Iff. ITIAJLS.OC'IC. 
 
 The New Republic. 
 By FLORENCE MARRY AT. 
 
 Open! Sesame! | Fighting the Air. 
 A Harvest of Wild Oats. 
 Written in Fire. 
 
 By JT. MASTERMAN. 
 Half-a-dozen Daughters. 
 By RRANUKR MATTHEWS. 
 A Secret of the Sea. 
 
 Bv L.bONARfi> MEKKICTC. 
 The Man who was Good. 
 
 By .SEAN 911 DIM, EOT ABB. 
 Touch and Go. | Mr. Dorillion. 
 
 By Mr*. MOI,ESWORTH. 
 Hathercourt Rectory. 
 
 By .fl. E. JTIUDDOCK. 
 Stories Weird and Wonderful. 
 The Dead Man's Secret. 
 From the Bosom of the Deep. 
 Bv I>. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 A Model Father. Old Blazer's Hero. 
 Joseph's Coat. Hearts. 
 
 Coals of Fire. Way of the World. 
 
 Val Strange. Cynic Fortune. 
 
 A Life's Atonement. 
 Fy the Gate of the Sea. 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 First Person Singular. 
 
 y MURBAV and HERMAN. 
 One Traveller Returns. 
 Paul Jones's Alias. 
 The Bishops' Bible. 
 
 By HENRY MURRAY. 
 A Game of Bluff. 
 
 By HUME NISBET. 
 "Bail Up!" 
 Dr. Bernard St. Vincent. 
 
 By ALICE O'HAN,N. 
 The Unforeseen. | Chance ? or Fate? 
 
 TWO-SHILLING NOVELS continued. 
 
 By GEORGES OHNET. 
 Doctor Rameau. I A Last Love. 
 A Weird Gift. 
 
 By Mrs. OI.IPHANT. 
 Whiteladies. | The Primrose Path. 
 
 The Greatest Heiress in England. 
 By Mrs. ROBERT O REIJLI,Y. 
 Phoaba's Fortunes. 
 
 By OUII>A. 
 
 Held In Bondage. Two Little Wooden 
 Strathmore. Shoes. 
 
 Chandos. | Friendship. 
 
 Under Two Flags. " * 
 Idalia. 
 CecilCastlemaine's 
 
 Gage. 
 Tricotrin. 
 Puck. 
 
 Folle Farine. 
 A Dog of Flanders, j 
 Pascarel. 
 
 Signa, 
 
 Princess Naprax- 
 
 ine. 
 
 In a Winter City. 
 Ariadne. 
 
 Moths. 
 
 Pipistrello. 
 
 A Village Com- 
 
 mune. 
 Binibi. 
 Wanda. 
 Fre.scoes. 
 In Maremma. 
 Othmar. 
 Guilderoy. 
 Ruffino. 
 Syrlin. 
 Ouida's Wisdom, 
 
 Wit, and Pathos. 
 
 MARGARET AGNES PA UL. 
 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 By JAMES PAYN. 
 
 Bentinck's Tutor. 
 
 Murphy's Master. 
 
 A County Family. 
 
 At Her Mercy. 
 , Cecil's Tryst. 
 I Clyffards of Clyffe. 
 
 200 Reward. 
 Marine Residence. 
 Mirk Abbey. 
 By Proxy. 
 Under One Roof. 
 High Spirits. 
 
 Foster Brothers. Carlyon's Year. 
 
 Found Dead. From Exile. 
 
 Best of Husbands. For Cash Only 
 
 Walter's Word. Kit. 
 
 Halves. The Canon's Ward 
 
 Fallen Fortunes. Talk of the Town. 
 
 Humorous Stories. ! Holiday Tasks. 
 
 Lost Sir Massingberd. 
 
 A Perfect Treasure. 
 
 A Woman's Vengeance. 
 
 The Family Scapegrace. 
 
 What He Cost Her. 
 
 Gwendoline's Harvest. 
 
 Like Father, Like Son. 
 
 Married Beneath Him. 
 
 Not Wooed, but Won. 
 
 Less Black than We're Painted. 
 
 A Confidential Agent. 
 
 Some Private Views. 
 
 A Grape from a Thorn. 
 
 Glow-worm Tales. 
 
 The Mystery of Mirbridga. 
 
 The Burnt Million. 
 
 The Word and the Will. 
 
 A Prince of the Blood. 
 
 Sunny Stories. 
 
 By C. I,. PIRIfcSS. 
 Lady Lovelace. 
 
 By EDGAR A. POE. 
 The Mystery of Marie Roget. 
 
 By Mrs. CAMPBEI.B, PRAKW. 
 Tha Romance of a Station. 
 The Soul of Countess Adrian. 
 Ry E. C. PRICE. 
 Yalentina. I Tha Foreigners. 
 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. I Gerald. 
 
. 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY CHATTO & WINDUS. 
 
 TWO-SHILLING NOVELS continued, 
 By Ifclt'l&AatB* PftftYC'E. 
 
 Miss Maxwell's Affections. 
 
 By CIIAKI.ES REAVE. 
 
 It Is Never Too Late to Mend. 
 
 Christie Johnstone. 
 
 Put Yourself in His Place. 
 
 The Double Marriage. 
 
 Love Me Little, Love Me Long. 
 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 
 The Course of True Love. 
 
 Autobiography of a Thief. 
 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 
 Tha Wandering Heir. 
 
 Singleheart and Doublefaca. 
 
 Good Stories of Men and other Animals. 
 
 Hard Cash. A Simpleton. 
 
 Pe Woffington. Readiana. 
 
 Griffith Gaunt. A Woman-Hater. 
 
 Foul Play. The Jilt. 
 
 A Perilous Secret. 
 
 By Mrs. J. H. RIDDELL. 
 Weird Stories. | Fairy Water. 
 Her Mother's Darling. 
 Prince of Wales's Garden Party. 
 The Uninhabited House. 
 The Mystery in Palace Gardens. 
 The Nun's Curse. | Idle Tales. 
 By F. W. ROBINSON. 
 Women are Strange. 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
 By JAMES RUNCIMAN. 
 Skippers and Shellbacks. 
 Grace Balmaign's Sweetheart. 
 Schools and Scholars. 
 
 By W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 Round the Galley Fire. 
 On the Fo'k'sle Head. 
 In the Middle Watch. 
 A Voyage to the Cape. 
 A Book for the Hammock. 
 The Mystery of the "Ocean Star c " 
 The Romance of Jenny Harlowe. 
 An Ocean Tragedy. 
 My Shipmate Louise. 
 Alone on a Wide Wide Sea. 
 GEORGE AUGUSTUS SAT A. 
 Gaslight and Daylight. 
 
 By JOHN SAUNWERS. 
 Guy Waterman. | Two Dreamers. 
 The Lion in the Path. 
 By KATHARINE SAUNIVERS. 
 Joan Merry weather. I Heart Salvage. 
 The High Mills. | Sebastian. 
 Margaret and Elizabeth. 
 
 By GEOK;JE R. SIMS. 
 Rogues and Vagabonds. 
 The Ring o' Bells. 
 Mary Jane's Memoirs. 
 Mary Jane Married. 
 Tales of To-day. | Dramas of Life. 
 Tinkletop's Crime. 
 Zeph: A Circus Story. 
 
 By ARTHUR SKETCHLEY. 
 A Match in the Dark. 
 
 By HAWLEY SMART. 
 Without Love or Licence. 
 
 By T. W. SPEIGHT. 
 The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. 
 The Golden Hoop. I By Devious Ways. 
 Hoodwinked, &c. | Back to Life. 
 
 TWO-SHILLING NOVELS continued. 
 
 By R. A. STERNDALE. 
 The Afghan Knife. 
 
 By R. LOUIS STEVENSON. 
 New Arabian Nights. | Prince Otto. 
 BY BERTHA THOMAS. 
 Cressida. | Proud Maisie. 
 
 The Violin-player. 
 
 By WALTER THORNBURV. 
 Tales for the Marines. 
 Old Stories Re-told. 
 
 T. AUOLPHUS TROLLOPE. 
 
 Diamond Cut Diamond. 
 
 By F. ELEANOR TROLLOPE. 
 
 Like Ships upon the Sea. 
 Anne Furness. | Mabel's Progress. 
 By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. 
 
 Frau Frohmann. I Kept in the Dark. 
 
 Marion Fay. John Caldigate. 
 
 The Way We Live Slow. 
 
 The American Senator. 
 
 Mr. Scarborough's Family. 
 
 The Land-Leaguers. 
 
 The Golden Lion of Granpere. 
 
 By J. T. TROWBRIDGE. 
 
 Farnell's Folly. 
 By IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c. 
 
 Stories from Foreign Novelists. 
 By MARK TWAIN. 
 
 A Pleasure Trip on the Continent. 
 The Gilded Age. 
 Mark Twain's Sketches. 
 Tom Sawyer. | A Tramp Abroad. 
 
 The Stolen White Elephant. 
 Huckleberry Finn. 
 Life on the Mississippi. 
 The Prince and the Pauper. 
 A Yankee at the Court of King Arthur. 
 By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER. 
 Mistress Judith. 
 
 By SARAH TYTLER. 
 The Bride's Pass. I Noblesse Oblige. 
 Buried Diamonds. | Disappeared. 
 Saint Mungo'sCity. I Huguenot Family. 
 Lady Bell. | Blackball Ghosts. 
 
 What She Came Through. */V 
 
 Beauty and the Beast. 
 Gitoyenne Jaqueline. 
 By Mrs. F. II. WILLIAMSON. 
 A Child Widow. 
 
 By J. S. WINTER. 
 Cavalry Life. | Regimental Legends. 
 
 By II. F. WOOD. 
 The Passenger from Scotland Yard. 
 The Englishman of the Rue Cain. 
 
 By Lntly WOOI>. 
 Sabina. 
 
 CEL1A PARKER WOOL LEY. 
 Rachel Armstrong; or, Love & Theology. 
 
 By EDMUND YATES. 
 The Forlorn Hope. ] Land at Last. 
 Castaway. 
 
 OGDEN, SMALE AND CO, LIMITED, PRINTERS, GREAT SAFFRON HILL,, E.G. 
 
m