This was not so great Mrs. Trent's eyes would wander to the unhappy pair—for they were once more gloomy and unsubdued—and old Ephraim cast many glances thither, entreating by silent signals that they should repent of whatever sin they had committed and be restored to favor.

The meal past the family rose and, from her pocket, Mrs. Benton produced two long strips of cloth, one of which she fastened about each child's wrist, leaving its other end to tie to her own apron belt.

Then she turned to the mother, whose tears were beginning to fall, and said, severely:

"Gabriella, if I didn't love you as well as I love myself and better, I'd let these children go and no more said. But they've done that no punishin' won't reach, though maybe they'll give in after a spell. I shan't hurt 'em nor touch to; but I shall keep 'em tied to me till they tell me what I'm bound to know. So that's all. You've got enough on your hands, with this funeral business and all that'll come, and however we're goin' to feed another lot of visitors so soon after them others, I declare I don't see. And me with these tackers tied to my apron strings, the way they be!"

Mrs. Trent rose and left the room and Jessica slowly followed. Neither of them could quite understand Aunt Sally's present behavior, nor why she should wish to bother herself with two such hindrances to the labor which must be accomplished.

But Ephraim lingered. He simply could not endure the sight of the little ones' unhappiness, and quietly slipping a knife from his pocket he coolly cut their leading strings, caught them up in his strong arms and limped away before their captor had discovered her loss.

But he put his head back inside the doorway to call out, reassuringly:

"Begging pardon, Mrs. Benton, I'll 'spell' you on the 'worming out' business and promise they shan't leave my care till I hand 'em back to you thoroughly 'pumped.' Come along, laddies. I've a mind to visit every spot on this blessed ranch and—upon one condition—I've a mind to take you with me. Want to hear?"

"Yes. What is it?" demanded Ned, already very happy at the exchange of jailers.

"Only that you must explain what all this row and rumpus is about with Aunt Sally."

Standing at the top of the steps, with one foot outstretched, old "Forty-niner" paused and steadily regarded the small face above his shoulder.

Ned returned the gaze with equal steadfastness, as if he were pondering in his troubled mind the best course to pursue. Then, because he might think more clearly so, he lifted his serious gaze to the distance; and, at once, there burst from his quivering lips a cry of fear:

"Oh, I see him! I see him! He's coming, like he said—to kill me—to kill me! I dassent—I dassent!"



CHAPTER XIII.

NED'S STORY

"Eels couldn't have done that slicker!" commented Ephraim, in surprise. For, behold! his arms were empty and the flash of twinkling legs along the garden path pointed whither his charges had fled. "Here they were and here they aren't, and whatever scared them that way is more than I can see."

Indeed, though he shaded his eyes with his hand and made a prolonged examination of the outlook, nothing different from ordinary was visible; and, after a moment's reflection, he sought Aunt Sally and reported:

"Well, Mrs. Benton, I 'low I'm doomed to that dose of picra, for I—I—— You see——"

"Ephraim Ma'sh, where's them children?"

"That's just exactly what I'd like to know myself, neighbor."

"Huh! You needn't go 'neighborin'' me, if that's all you're worth. Tryin' fool capers like a boy, ain't you? Think it was terr'ble clever to cut strings that I'd took the trouble to tie and then settin' them youngsters free. Well, all I have to say is that you've done more harm than you can undo in a hurry, and that's the true word," retorted the indignant matron, beating a bowlful of eggs as she would have enjoyed beating him just then.

Ephraim crossed the kitchen and laid one hand on her shoulder, saying:

"Come, Sally, let's quit chasing about the bush. There's something more in this nonsense than appears, and if you're a true and loyal friend to this family I'm another as good. Two heads are better than one, you know——"

"Even if one belongs to a silly old feller like you? H'm Ephraim, you're right! There is somethin' more'n shows outside. That candy was a bait, a trap, a lure, a—anything you choose; and I do hope the little fellers are safer'n I fear they be. If I catch 'em again, for their good——My suz! Here they're comin' back of their own free will and wonder ain't ceased!"

Indeed, as swiftly as they had scampered away, the lads were returning and burst into the kitchen, crying with what little breath they had left:

"Aunt Sally, lock me up! Lock us up tight! Quick—quick! I seen him! He'll do it! My mother says Antonio always does do things, he does! Quick, quick!"

"Lock up, quick!"

Ned and the echo swung round behind the matron's capacious person and rolled themselves in the folds of her full skirt, which performance hid them from the view of anyone outside and as effectually interfered with her movements.

But she had now caught something of their excitement, and their appeal to her protection had promptly banished her last trace of anger against them.

"So I will, lambies, so I will. You just keep on a steppin' backwards and I'll do it, too, and first we know we'll get to that nice pantry where we stayed last night. I've got the key to that, even if 'tis rusty from not bein' often used, and I'll defy anybody to get it away from me."

Still beating her eggs as if nothing uncommon were happening, the housewife retreated toward the door in question, and slipping one hand behind her opened it without turning her head. She was instantly relieved of the drag upon her skirts, and quietly shut the door again upon her self-imprisoned charges. Then she drew a long breath, and exclaimed:

"Well, sharpshooter, what do you think of that?"

"Looks as if you couldn't have been so very hard on them, else they'd never come back."

"I ain't a-flatterin' myself. That was a 'Hobson's choice.' But——"

"But they must have been badly frightened to have done it."

"Yes, Ephraim, they are, and I am. I'm so stirred up I don't know whether I've beat these eggs all one way, like I ought, or forty-'leven different ones, like I ought not. I'm flustered. I'm completely flustered, and that ain't often my case."

"Picra!" sympathetically suggested the old man.

Aunt Sally's eyes snapped, and she smiled grimly, as she retorted:

"Picra's good for them 'at need it. That's you, not me. It ain't a medicine for in'ards so much as 'tis for out'ards. I mean, it's better for the body than 'tis for the mind, and it's my mind that's ailin' me! Besides, doctors never take their own doses."

"You know it yourself! I thought your mind was failing you, but——"

"No such thing. I said, or I meant to say, I was troubled in it. That's all; and if you're a mite of a man you'll try and help me unravel this tangle and quit foolin'. Just step into that closet with me and maybe the tackers'll tell you themselves. I'd rather you heard it first hand, anyway."

Wun Lung, sifting flour in one part of the kitchen, and Pasqual scrubbing a kneading board at the sink, both paused and eyed the strange proceedings with curiosity if not displeasure; for not only had the children been bestowed within the "cold closet," but Aunt Sally and Ephraim had, also, followed and locked themselves out of sight and hearing.

The pantry was absolutely dark, until Mrs. Benton found a candle and lighted it; then she pointed to the chair she had occupied during the night, mutely inviting "Forty-niner" to be seated. He declined the proffered courtesy, so she sat down herself, and it amused him that she had not once stopped that monotonous whisking of the eggs, though by this time the dish was heaped with their frothy substance.

"The cake you make of them should be light enough," he remarked, with a smile.

"You're right. There's such a thing as overbeatin'—everything. Well, laddies, we're all back in here together again, and auntie wants you to tell Mr. Ma'sh where you got that candy; who give it to you; what for; where you saw that sneaky snake, Antonio Bernal; what you've done with the staff wand; and all the rest of it? 'Forty-niner' is a man and a gentleman——"

"Here the sharpshooter bowed profoundly, acknowledging the compliment with a humorous expression; but the matron continued as if she had not observed him:

"You see, I know all about it, even if you wouldn't tell. I'm one has eyes on the back of my head and on its top, too, I tell you, so you needn't try to think I don't see what's going on, for I do."

The faces of her small listeners showed utter amazement; then with one of his flashlike movements Ned sprang to the back of her chair and passed his hand rapidly all over her gray curls.

"Where are they, Aunt Sally? I can't find 'em. I never saw 'em in all my life, and do—do, please, show them to me!" he implored.

Luis scrambled up the other side, and echoed:

"Never show 'em in m'life!"

"That's all right. I don't keep 'em in exhibition, but they're there all the same."

"Sally Benton!" expostulated Ephraim. "Don't tell them wrong stories."

"But it isn't a wrong story; it's a right one. If they're not real, actual eyes, there's something in my head takes their place. Might as well say 'eyes' as 'brains,' I judge. But, be you going to answer, Edward Trent? I've got a prime lot of cookin' to do again, and no time to waste. 'Cause if you ain't I'll just take Mr. Ma'sh with me and lock you shavers in here alone, where you'll be safe, but sort of homesick. I shan't leave no candle burnin', for you to set the house afire with. So you best tell, right away, and then be let out to have a good time."

Luis began to whisper, and beg:

"Tell her, Ned. Tell her. I hate the dark—I do, I do!"

Ned hesitated but a moment longer. He loved his playmate as his own soul, and it altered nothing of this childish David-and-Jonathan friendship that it was as full of fight as of affection. Patting Luis' shoulder, he cried:

"'Course I'll tell, though if she knows it all a'ready——"

"But I don't know it, Ned. She wants you to tell me. I'm one of us, you see—just we four," interposed the sharpshooter, hastily.

"Well—well—well, 'tisn't anyhow. Only I saw—I—saw——"

Here the child paused and peered cautiously about.

Mr. Marsh promptly sat down upon the boards and motioned the lads to come to him, and when they had done so, closed his arms around them, with a comforting pressure, saying:

"There now! We're as snug as bugs in a rug, and nobody in the wide world dare harm you. Hurry up and talk fast, or you and I will never get a taste of that fine poundcake Aunt Sally wants to make."

Another moment of hesitation, and then came Ned's triumphant statement:

"'Twasn't no ghost, anyhow."

"Of course it wasn't," answered "Forty-niner," promptly agreeing, but considerably puzzled. He had not, as yet, heard from any of the others about the "vision" which Mrs. Benton had seen beside the window.

"'Twasn't nobody but 'Tonio himself."

"That's exactly what I thought," he again agreed, and encouragingly patted the boy's hand.

"And he come—and he come—and he gave us one—two boxes of that nice, nice candy; and all we gave him was Pedro's old stick!"

Aunt Sally's egg beater fell to the floor unheeded, this time she really put her spectacles in their proper place and stared through them at the narrator.

Ned warmed to his task and Luis cuddled beside him, complacently adding his affirmative "Yep," at fitting intervals.

"And so he said it wasn't nothin'. And so—and so—I fell offen the bookcase and made a noise; and my mother didn't hear it 'cause she was asleep. Me and Luis was asleep, wasn't we, Luis?"

"Yep. Sleep."

"And he waked us up through the window——"

"Waked froo winder, yep."

"And said: 'Go get that pointed stick, Ned Trent, and I'll give you a dollar.' Didn't he?"

"Gimme dollar. Didn't gimme dollar. What's a dollar?" asked the echo.

Ned went on, unheeding:

"And I said no. 'Twasn't my stick; 'twas my mother's."

"Oh! Neddy, Neddy! if you'd only stuck to that!" groaned Mrs. Benton, wiping her face with her apron.

But being now fairly launched upon his narrative, and also feeling wholly secure within the shelter of "Forty-niner's" arms, Ned paused no more till he had completed it:

"And then he gave us the candy, 'cause I didn't want dollars. You can't eat dollars, can you? And the candy was like the kind my mother never gives, and just for an old stick was older than Pedro. Huh! And then he—he—he made me put my hand on the top of my head——"

"Hands on tops of heads!" cried the echo, dramatically.

"And swore a swore I'd never, never, honest Injun, tell a single tell, else he'd—he'd kill me! Kill me right straight down dead! And now I have and he will, and I forgot and you made me! I hate you, I hate you! And won't you feel bad when I'm all deaded and you you done it, 'stead of him—and—and——"

The sense of security had fled instantly, and completely. The memory of Antonio's dark face as he had stood threateningly before the little fellow, at midnight by the window, returned with all its vivid, terrorizing power. Springing to the farthest reach of the room Ned crouched there, wide-eyed and trembling, and, of course, Luis followed his example.

To "Forty-niner's" reassuring words, and to Mrs. Benton's cajoling ones, neither child paid any further heed. They had been trained to believe that their promised word was the most sacred of all things, and now they had not only been induced to break that, but to break it in the face of Antonio Bernal's terrible threat.

The elders left them to themselves and regarded one another with regretful eyes. Then Aunt Sally repeated in detail all that there was to tell concerning the curious wand which had pointed the way to wealth; and now Ephraim listened in vast respect. On the first recital, so hurriedly given by Jessica, and when she had run to get the staff, he had thought of the matter as one of the shepherd's "pious mummeries." It now assumed a graver aspect. The lost staff might possess some magnetic quality which was invaluable, as Old Century believed; but beyond all that was the uncomfortable reflection that Antonio Bernal was somewhere in hiding about Sobrante, and that doubtless it had been he, or his emissary, who had tampered with the mail pouch and caused Marty's disaster.

"Well, a man that hides must have somethin' to be ashamed of. And I believe every single word that child has told," said Aunt Sally, in conclusion of her long harangue.

"H'm! I thought that 'snake' had had his fang extracted down there at Los Angeles; but it seems he's the sort can grow a new one, when needed. Well, I'm powerful glad I'm home again. It takes a lot of honest men to keep watch of one thief, and I'll prove handy. I'm off. I leave the lads with you. I'm going to find out three things: How Ferd, the dwarf, managed to break jail that night and leave no sign; who robbed that mail pouch; and where Antonio Bernal is at this precious minute."

"Here, at your service, amigo!" cried a mocking voice, outside the shuttered window. A voice that all recognized at once as belonging to the late manager; yet, when Ephraim had hastily run out and around to that side of the house, there was nobody within sight; and nothing to be heard save the series of terrified shrieks which issued from the room he had left.



CHAPTER XIV.

TAKING THE DOCTOR'S ADVICE

For almost the first time in his life Ninian Sharp was under the doctor's hands; and that gentleman's verdict upon his patient's case was simple and plain:

"Nothing the matter with you but breakdown. The result of doing two men's work instead of one. What you need, and all you need, is a complete change of thought and scene. Go off on some ranch and take a vacation. That's your medicine."

"Thank you, doctor, but a prescription upon the nearest drug store would be easier to fill. In the first place I should worry all the time if I were idle, for 'hustling' has become my second nature. In the second—where shall I go?"

The physician shrugged his shoulders. He, also, was a busy man and having finished his visit to his patient did not prolong it. He picked up his hat, remarked that he "didn't doubt so clever a young man could find a fitting place, if he gave what was left of his mind to it," and bowed himself out, leaving the leaven of his sensible advice to accomplish its legitimate result.

As the doctor left the room the nurse entered, bearing with her a telegram which had been delayed en route, and a letter. It was with some reluctance that she delivered these to the man on the lounge, yet realizing, at the same time, how much worse for him was absolute cessation of all his ordinary interests. With a solicitous smile, she inquired:

"Would you not better let me read these first? They are probably unimportant."

"Thank you, no. I'm not yet reduced to imbecility and prefer to examine my own correspondence," returned the invalid, fretfully. Then as if ashamed of his petulance, and with a return to his ordinary manner, added: "This telegram might as well have walked. Would have saved time, judging by the date of it; and as for this letter—that, certainly, has seen better days."

The nurse smiled again, indulgently, and busied herself in tidying the apartment; an occupation which would have incensed Ninian, since her idea of neatness seemed to him to be but the "disarrangement" of the heaps of papers and manuscript sheets scattered everywhere about, had he not been otherwise interested. A hasty examination of the messages he had received evoked his exultant exclamation:

"Hurrah! The very thing!"

"Good news?" asked the attendant.

"The best in the world. The doctor's prescription, filled to the letter. A ranch and new business. Say, would you mind going out for a bit? I'd like to get into some other togs and in a hurry. If I can, I'll make the one o'clock train."

"The—one o'clock train!" gasped the bewildered nurse, believing that her charge's brain had given away, even as the physician had suggested it might do.

"Exactly. Please don't be alarmed. Some country friends of mine have invited me to visit them, and I judge they would be glad if I accepted at once. Their invitation fits in excellently with my own needs and, after I've dressed for the trip, I'd be grateful to you for packing a few things, while I write to the bank and telephone to some other places. Just touch that messenger call, will you, please?"

Certainly, he did not now look very like a sick man, as he sprang up and looked about him; save that he put his hand to his head because of a momentary dizziness and seemed somewhat unsteady on his feet. However, his eyes had lost their dullness and a faint color had come into his cheeks; and the attendant saw no reason for opposing his sudden determination.

The letter was Jessica's, and its envelope had been mended by the postmaster after he had taken it, torn, from the mail pouch. The telegram was from Ephraim Marsh, and had been sent by the first messenger to Marion after that scene in the pantry with Aunt Sally and the little boys. It had been delayed by the curiosity of the operator, but had reached Mr. Sharp at last; and its import was that:

"If you're willing to use your brains for Sobrante folks, as you used them once before, now's the time. There'll be a led horse at Marion till you come, and the sooner the better. 'Forty-niner.'"

"A led horse. Why, he must have forgotten, if he ever knew, that I've my own Nimrod here, that Mrs. Trent insisted upon my accepting, when I left Sobrante before. The horse must go with me, of course, and I flatter myself I can pick up a bit of instruction on riding among those fine 'boys' of the little captain's. I'll send a return message—no, I won't, either. I'll trust to luck and surprise them. Now to get ready."

A feeling that he was going "home" possessed the young man, and all his simple preparations strengthened rather than weakened him. Activity was his habit, and an hour before the train left the city he had completed his personal arrangements with his office, his bank and his landlord. He had paid his nurse the same salary she would have received had he required her services for the fortnight, as expected, and was ready for what came next.

"I feel as if I were entering upon a new life, instead of taking a rest cure," he remarked to Mr. Hale, when that gentleman met him at the station, and explained that a Christmas invitation had come for himself, also. "And I say we'll make it the jolliest holiday those people down there ever knew. I sent a letter to your address, after I 'phoned, and made out a list of things I'd like you to see to. Presents and so on; and I'll write as soon as I get there and let you know what's up with the sharpshooter. Some trouble, of course, but reckon it can't be much. Ha! we're off. Good-by. Forget nothing, add as much as you please to my list and send the bills to me. Good-by."

The train rolled noiselessly away from the long platform, and the reporter for the Lancet stowed himself comfortably away on his cushions and slept as he had not slept before since this nervous illness attacked him. Not once did he awake, till the conductor touched him on the shoulder, and stated:

"End of the line, sir. Time to leave."

Ninian sat up and shook himself, still feeling a bit dazed from his heavy slumber, and had scarcely realized the fact of his arrival before a man limped into the car and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Well done, lad. Welcome to Sobrante!"

"Hello, Mr. Marsh! You here? Sobrante? I thought——"

"Same thing. This is Marion; as near as we can get to our place on the rails. Remember, don't you? Been sick, eh? You look rather peaked and I 'low I'd ought——"

"No apologies. Here I am, and am not ill now. Only been a little overworked; and your telegram, as well as Miss Jessica's letter, came in the nick of time. Not an hour after the doctor had ordered this very medicine of change and recreation."

Ephraim looked sharply at his guest and reflected:

"What our business needs is a clear head and a strong body, not an overtaxed man, as this 'pears to be. Well, sick or well, I hope he can see through some of our muddles, if not all; and half a loaf is better than no bread." Then he gathered the traveler's belongings, and remarked: "I told Aleck to have a good supper ready. It's a fine night and I thought we'd ride home afterwards. Unless——"

They left the car and Ninian answered the other's unspoken suggestion:

"No, I don't want to stay all night, good as Janet's beds are. I've had a delicious sleep and feel like another man from this morning. Hello! they've taken Nimrod out already, and evidently are waiting for orders. I declare, the handsome beast looks as if he recognized this place and was as glad to get back to it as I am."

Old "Forty-niner" left his guest's side and hurried to the spot where a trainman held the spirited animal, stroking its neck and speaking soothingly to it, to calm its excitement; and no sooner had the ranchman's hand supplanted the trainman's than Nimrod ceased to prance, and with a little final shiver, stood stock-still, uttering a low whinny of delight.

"That's the talk, you beauty! Welcome home, old boy! Well, well, well! if you ain't a sight to cure the headache! Yes, yes; it's all right. This is Marion. We've got to stop at Aleck's first. Remember Aleck? Remember Janet and her sugar? Well, well, well!"

Ninian approached, amazed and incredulous, inquiring:

"Think that creature knows what you're saying?"

"Forty-niner" turned upon the questioner indignantly.

"That's a fool sort of question for a smart man to ask! 'Think' he knows? No. There isn't any 'thinking' in this. I know he knows, and I know he's just as glad to set foot on his mother earth, here in Marion, as I was t'other day when I stepped off this same train—or its mate of the morning. I wish all the men in the world were half as brainy as he is. And I tell you what, stranger, you couldn't have done a thing would make your own welcome so sure as fetching Nimrod with you. If you'd left him behind some of us would have had our own opinion. Though I, for one, didn't know he was yours till this very morning."

"And the led horse you spoke about?"

Ephraim looked up, surprised, answering, rather crisply:

"At home. Why not? When I heard about Nimrod I wasn't silly enough to bring another."

"So if I hadn't brought him we'd been short a mount?" insisted the reporter, teasingly.

"One of us would had to foot it to the ranch, and that one wouldn't have been me. Huh! Does me good to hear your nonsense gabble again. I declare it does. When did you get my telegraph?"

"This morning."

"This—morning! Why, I sent it day before yesterday, no, the day before that. Let me see; to-day's one, yesterday—the funeral, two—the one—yes, three days ago. John Benton himself gave it into the telegraph man's hands. Himself."

They mounted and started toward McLeod's Inn, Ninian doing very well, considering the impatience of his steed and his own limited experience of the saddle, and the sharpshooter sitting as composedly upon the back of as restless an animal as could readily be found. It was a bay, and pranced and curveted to the extent that Nimrod seemed a door-mouse beside it, and Ninian finally observed:

"That's an undecided sort of beast you have, yourself. Seems to be as much inclined to go backward as forward."

"Hale's. Name Prince. Was on the mesa with Pedro till he died."

"Pedro dead? I'm sorry. Was it his 'funeral' you meant?"

"Yes. Terrible pity he couldn't have held on till Christmas, his Navidad, that always meant so much to him. But he couldn't. Things have changed at Sobrante since you was here. I'm glad you've come. I'm powerful glad you've come."

"Any new trouble, Ephraim?"

"H'm! I should say. Ghosts, the women think, and scamps for certain. But it's a long story, and here we are at Aleck's. We mustn't spoil that good supper of his and talk will keep. We've thirty miles 'twixt us and bed, 'less you change your mind and stop here, and that should give time enough to turn a man's mind inside out."

"Were you so certain of my coming that you ordered a special supper, without hearing?"

"Sure. I took you to be a man and I put myself in your place. In your place I should have come if I could; and if I couldn't I should have sent word. Light."

Aleck came out to meet them, and Janet followed, of course. Where one of that worthy couple was the other was sure to be; and both extended to the city man such welcome as made him more impressed than ever by that "home feeling" which had possessed him all day. He returned their good wishes with heartiness and did full justice to his supper, adding as a thankful tribute to Janet's fine cookery:

"That's the first thing has passed my lips that hadn't the flavor of ashes, since many a day. The doctor was right."

"Glad to hear any doctor ever could be right," returned the innkeeper, who had never been ill, and attributed his health to his distrust of physicians. "Fresh air, wholesome food and a clear conscience—them's to long life what the three R's are to 'rithmetic. Powerful sorry you can't pass the night. I'd admire to talk over the political situation with an intelligent man."

The side glance toward himself with which the Scotchman said this sent Ephraim off into a mighty guffaw, in which presently they all joined; and in the midst of the merriment a stable boy led up the horses, and the Sobrante-bound riders loped away. Yet, just before they were out of hearing, Aleck's stentorian voice sent after them the warning advice:

"Keep a sharp lookout, by, and your hands on your guns. That spook's hit the trail again! Watch out!"

Ninian laughed, and "Forty-niner" tried to do so, but the most he could accomplish was a feeble cackle, which, his companion fancied, betrayed his age as nothing heretofore had done. It was a nervous, irritated laugh, and was matched by the altered voice in which its owner presently remarked:

"If I can't stop this fool business any other way, I've a notion to ride round the country and shoot right and left, everybody I see, promiscuous. That's the sure and certain way to hit the spook, too."

"Heigho! This grows exciting! Spooks? Mysteries? Mail robberies! What next?"

There was no answer from the sharpshooter, who had gotten his horse into a steady trot and was putting the road behind him in a manner that needed all Ninian's efforts to match. If Nimrod had been as little used to the trail as his rider was to him the space between the two animals would have widened irretrievably; but he was the better bred of the two, and though he didn't waste his strength in a first spurt, as Prince did, he fell into a steady, easy gait, that soon told to his advantage.

It was one of the perfect moonlight nights which come in that cloudless region, when one can easily "read fine print," if so inclined, or see across country almost as well as in the day. The swift motion, the exhilarating air, the sense of freedom from city walls and cramped spaces, started the reporter into singing, and later into the silence of wonder over the astonishing power of his own voice.

"Hurrah! If that's my warble I never heard it before! It's a marvelous atmosphere that makes a rag time tune sound like a nightingale's music. If 'Forty-niner' would join it——Hello! what's up? What in—the name—of—all things!"



CHAPTER XV.

NINIAN'S GREETING

Suddenly, out of the moonlit distance before them, appeared a strange vision. A horse and his rider, as spotlessly white and gleaming as the snow on the distant mountaintops, moving toward them as swift as the wind and in supernatural silence. The eyes of the steed and its master glowed with a wicked light that startled both the old frontiersman and the modern scribe, and set Prince and Nimrod into paroxysms of terror.

Rearing, plunging and backing, Ninian's mount had him soon on the ground; and though Ephraim stuck to his saddle like a burr; he could not hold his horse and get at his revolver in that one instant of the appearance and disappearance of this strange "specter." It was coming—it was upon them—it was gone; and the blast of cold air with which it passed them set the horses shivering in an ague of fear, and tied the men's tongues.

It seemed an age that they halted there in the open solitude, silently stroking and soothing their frightened beasts, before either could speak. Then "Forty-niner" found his voice and burst forth, absurdly:

"Drat—that—pocket!"

Ninian laughed; nervously, almost hysterically at first; then with honest merriment, exclaiming:

"Oh, what a chance was lost there, comrade!"

"Whoa, boy, whoa, I tell you! There, there, steady now. Well, you needn't throw it in my teeth if it was!" retorted the sharpshooter, furiously. "Hang new pants!"

Ninian rolled on the ground and laughed afresh; then feebly observed: "That's what I generally do with mine. But pockets! What of them?"

"Huh! it's all very well for you to lie there and snicker. I lost the chance of my life that time. What's the use of a repertation for hittin' a pin at the distance I have if you can't hit a fool when he's close alongside?"

"Referring to me?" asked the reporter, sweetly.

"Yes, if the coat fits. Drat that pocket!"

"Poor pocket! Who made it?"

"That pesky Sally Benton. The one was in burst right through, and she sewed this one so tight at the top——Huh! I believe she done it a-purpose."

"To be sure she did. If I remember correctly that estimable woman was opposed to bloodshed and preferred corporal punishment. I suppose she feared you might do what you attempted to do and——"

"Shut up your shallow talk, young man!" ordered Ephraim, with so much venom that the other realized his mirth was ill-timed and grew serious.

"What was the thing, anyway, Marsh?"

"That's more than I know, but just what I would have known if I'd hit it with a bullet. That's the 'spook' Aleck warned us of. It's been kitin' round the country ever since that first night after Pedro died. Some say it's the ghost. It 'pears to be wrapped in a white blanket and wears it same as he did. He had a white horse once that had outlived all the horses ever was, I reckon; and the Simple Simons all about us claim that it's the Indian's spirit on the Indian's horse, a-ridin' round 'count of some trouble why he can't rest. There was a letter thrown into our settin' room night before last, in poor printing enough, too; and it said that Pedro had been banished from the happy hunting grounds on account of a secret he'd told; and a warning everybody not to touch to try and find the place the secret told about. It scared the mistress pretty bad, though she didn't let on much. The captain laughed, of course. She always laughs at everything; and Mrs. Benton—well, she just pinned the paper in her bosom, and says she: 'I'll know where that is when it's needed.' She's some sense, Sally has, though nothing to boast of, and she's a mighty good sewer of patchwork, though she's no good at pistol pockets. Well, shall we go on?"

Ninian had remounted his horse, which still was restless and ill to manage, and Prince was capering about in a fantastic fashion that, however, was not greatly different from his behavior earlier in the evening; and the reporter had satisfied himself that there was nothing now to be seen of the apparition which had flashed upon them and disappeared on the road back to Marion.

"Yes, let's go on. And I hope the least that will happen will be the arrival of that 'spook' at Aleck McLeod's cheerful inn. I'd give much to see his face if it did appear."

"Oh! it's been there already; last night. The kitchen window was raised so softly none but Janet could have heard it, and before she could get to it, a white, skinny hand came through and snatched up a quail pie she'd baked for breakfast and off sooner'n she could catch it. She was so mad about the pie that, for a minute, she forgot to be scared; then it came over her that she'd been cookin' ghost's victuals, and she shivered all the rest the night. She wouldn't ever let Aleck far out of sight, she's so fond of him, but now he can't stir three foot away. Every man I met has something fresh to tell of how his women folks have been worried by the thing; and if somebody doesn't settle his spookship mighty sudden, we'll have all the females in hysterics; and something we've never needed in this valley yet, and that's a doctor. There won't be a nerve left anywhere."

Ninian laughed again; adding, a moment later: "Not just the sort of place to send a nervous-prostration patient, is it, after all? But what's your own speculation concerning the nuisance?"

"Let me tell you the whole business, so far forth as I've heerd it since I came home. Then you can form your own mind on it and see how best to help my folks out their troubles; 'cause I ain't trying to hide that was my reason for wanting you to come. You'd helped us so much with the title affair I knew you'd unravel this skein. But I'm powerful glad to see you, all the same, and I do hope you'll get as much good for yourself out the visit as I want the mistress to get."

The horses were now somewhat quieted by a long stretch of the level road, over which they had been allowed to travel at their own pace, and talking was easier. Ephraim gave in detail the story of Pedro's visit and gift of the wand; of the many strange incidents of the last few days; of Ned's serious illness, caused by fright, Aunt Sally declared, but, as his mother thought, by too much rich food and an overdose of candy; and how, though he had repeatedly been heard about the premises, nobody had as yet actually seen Antonio Bernal. However, at present, little was thought of but the suffering children; for Luis had remained true to his character of "echo" and had himself, that very day, been put to bed with the same high fever which was tormenting Ned.

"You see, though it's getting Christmas time and everything ought to be lovely, we're about as badly off as a family can be. All the same, if anybody in this world can cheer the mistress it'll be yourself, Mr. Sharp, and I'm powerful glad you've come."

For the rest of the ride they were mostly silent; each man revolving in his mind the most plausible explanation of Antonio's behavior, in his would-be mysterious hiding, and his terrorizing of the little lads.

Finally, Ninian expressed his own opinion:

"It's perfectly natural he should drift back to Sobrante, even with all the opprobrium that would attach to him there. It is his home. He believed or pretended to believe, that it was also his birthright. He knows nothing that would bring him a livelihood in the city——"

"Except gambling," interrupted Ephraim, contemptuously.

"If he tried his hand at that even, he'd fail. He hasn't the head to plot deeply. His maneuvers are all childishly transparent, and this last one—h'm! Have you connected his 'highness' with this spook business?"

"No, sir; and you needn't. That Antonio Bernal is the biggest coward above ground. Why, bless me! even if he'd had gumption enough to concoct such a scheme he wouldn't have the nerve to carry it out. He'd be afraid of himself! Fact! No, siree. Top-lofty never had a hand in this," answered the elder man.

Ninian said no more but kept his suspicions revolving in his own mind; yet was far more absorbed in the possibility that "Forty-niner" had suggested, of the copper vein in the canyon, than by anything else he had heard. They had ridden on again, each silent, till the lights of Sobrante came into view; then Ephraim remarked:

"Reckon the little tackers ain't much better. The mistress don't gen'ally keep lamps lit as late as this, 'less something's wrong. Oh! I hope there's no more death and disappointment on our road. 'Twould break Mrs. Trent's heart, indeed, if she lost Ned."

Ninian roused himself from his reverie, and answered, lightly:

"For such a cheerful fellow as I remember you, even when you were first laid up in hospital, you're degenerated sadly. What in the name of common sense is the use of prognosticating evil, when good is just as likely to come?"

"Huh! I'm consid'able older than you, young man," retorted the sharpshooter, perversely.

"All the more reason you should be more hopeful. What's happened to you besides these external troubles? Something on your own account, eh? If so, believe me you have my hearty sympathy and my right hand to help you, if you need it."

Ephraim checked Prince so shortly that the animal reared on his haunches, and pushing his hat from his brow regarded the visitor with a sad but grateful countenance. Then he spoke, and his tones were husky with subdued emotion:

"Thanks, friend. I took to you the first time my old eyes lit on you and I've leaned on you, in my mind, ever since. There is something 'at worries me, but it's so slight I shan't put it into words—yet. I've got work to do still for them I love and that love me. Which I might maybe sum up in one small person—my precious Lady Jess. God bless her! Ay, God bless her! From the crown of her sunny head to the tips of her dainty feet, she's the truest, squarest, tenderest creature the Lord ever sent to lighten this dark world. They all love her, every one of them rough, hard-handed sons of toil whom she calls her 'boys'; but there isn't one, not one, can begin to love her as I do. Not one. It is she that makes me still keep a little faith——There, there! what an old fool I am! But, thanks, all the same, and don't you forget I'm your own to command if need comes. Shake, neighbor, and may your age be——Giddap there, Prince! Let'son, lad; let's get on."

Ninian did get on, but again silently pondering that here again was something mysterious in this honest octogenarian's mood. There was an undercurrent of sorrow which, he was sure, was wholly distinct from the anxieties of his mistress and her household, and he wondered what it might be. Surely, for an old man, though wifeless and childless he had much to make him happy. The devotion of the family in which he had lived for so long, his comfortable home, his freedom from care concerning his future—to the young man struggling amidst a crowd of competitors to make a place for himself in the world, it seemed as if the venerable sharpshooter had cause for nothing but rejoicing. However, these might be mere imaginations, and best banished for the present.

Ephraim made straight for the house, and the sound of the horses' footfalls brought figures flying to the open doors; most welcome of these in the eyes of the two men, the small one of Jessica herself, her head stretched forth as she peered into the night, and the lamplight behind her making a radiance about her golden head and slender gracefulness. But she poised there on the threshold only for an instant, till she was sure what animals these were, then darted toward them with uplifted hands and a cry of delight:

"They've come! Oh, mother, they've come!—they've come!"

Another moment and the reporter had slipped from his saddle and had caught up the little girl, more glad on his own part than he would have once thought possible to have her once more beside him.

"Yes, captain, here we are! But did you expect us—or me? And how could you tell that we were not strangers?"

"Why, don't you suppose I'd know the step of any horse for ours? And though Nimrod is yours now I know him like—like a brother. Don't I, dear fellow?" and from Ninian's clasp she ran to embrace the down-bent head of the thoroughbred.

On his side, Nimrod was equally rejoiced. His velvet nostrils caressed the little girl's cheeks and flowing hair, while his dainty forefoot gently pawed the ground in expression of delight and not impatience. Prince stood looking on, unmoved. He was not Sobrante raised and seemed to feel it; or so Jessica fancied, as she left off petting Nimrod and passed to Prince's side, to stroke his head also, and to murmur words of praise for good behavior in bringing Ephraim safely home.

Then "Forty-niner" led the beast away, while Jessica sped after Ninian, who had been greeted—almost grasped—by Aunt Sally. She had drawn him indoors, laughing, crying, whispering, entreating, all in a breath:

"Oh, oh, oh, land of Goshen! My suz! If you ain't the gladdest sight I've seen this dog's age! How are you, how are you? Slim? You certainly do look slim," she declared, as she led him into the radiance of the lamp and critically peered into his face, both through and above her spectacles.

"Well, my good friend, I never was anything but slim, as I remember. And I have been just a bit ailing, if that's your meaning. However, I'm all right now, most delighted to be here, and wholly at your service or that of anybody else who needs me. How are the children? Ephraim said that they were ill. And Mrs. Trent?"

As if in answer to his questions, there was a patter of bare feet on the stairs and in came Luis, his great dark eyes looking twice their normal size and his voice shrill with excitement, as he tried to say:

"Ned—Ned's gone and got—and got—Ned's gone got gone roof. Oh, oh!"

Mrs. Benton dropped Ninian's hand which she had continued to hold and shake up and down, much in the manner of one pumping water, and caught up the child to also shake him vigorously:

"Hi! What's that you say? Don't you dare to tell auntie a story. What's Neddy——Oh, my land! all the catnip's gone out of my life, seems if!"

The reporter and Jessica looked at each other and burst into laughter. It was impossible to help it, Aunt Sally's manner had been so droll and yet so dramatic; and, oddly enough, over Ninian there stole again the feeling that he had come home, and that the griefs and perplexities of this household had become his own. With that his merriment was over, for the fear Mrs. Benton's face had betrayed was sincere.

Jessica, also, had sobered instantly, and catching her guest's hand hurried him impulsively upward, crying:

"He's done it again! Oh, if mother sees him it will frighten her to death!"

They reached the upper floor and the end of the hall which divided it into two sections, and from whence a ladder ran upright to a trapdoor opening on the sloping roof. The scuttle had been left open for ventilation, and up this steep stairway Luis was pointing with wild gestures.

Again Aunt Sally caught and shook the little fellow, but he could make no better business of talking than before. Jessica had not waited for more than one glance into the empty chamber where the sick children had been cared for, since it was more quiet than the customary bed-room below; and that glance, added to Luis' gesticulations, told her story.

"Oh, he's walking in his sleep again! He's gone on the roof!"

The next the reporter realized she had climbed the ladder and disappeared through the scuttle. He forgot that he was, or had been, ill, and followed her, only to pause at the sight which met him as his head protruded through the opening. It was a house of many gables, and upon the peak of the farthest one poised Ned in his night-clothes, slowly swinging his arms in the circular fashion children adopt preparatory to a leap or spring.

"One!" counted the childish voice. "Two!"

Ninian closed his eyes, as if by so doing he might shut his ears to the final "Three!" which would mark the fatal leap.



CHAPTER XVI.

JESSICA GETS HER WISH

Ninian Sharp had closed his eyes against a catastrophe which, seemingly, nothing less than a miracle could prevent. When he opened them again the miracle had been performed.

Love had lent to Jessica a strength and swiftness almost incredible even to her active body, and she had crossed the steep, slated roof just in time to clasp Ned's feet and to drag him backward with her as she rolled down upon the broader portion. Yet even here was imminent danger, for the lad was struggling, in his sudden awakening, and the pair were slipping hopelessly toward the eaves.

But now was the reporter's chance and the test of his athletic training. He threw himself prone upon the slippery slates, worming his lean person over them till he caught the girl's frock, and bidding her "hold fast!" drew both the children slowly toward the scuttle. When his feet had found the edge of this the danger was past; and they were presently down upon the hall floor, laughing and sobbing together in one excited group. That is, the sister was sobbing and Ninian was laughing in a nervous way that had grown upon him with his illness, and that told to Aunt Sally's keen ear how really frail he still was.

But Master Ned, the cause of all this emotion, looked calmly upon the stranger, and demanded:

"Where's that printing press you promised, hey? I can say five, ten letters now, and I can spell cat backwards!"

"Is it possible? Before such erudition I bow my humble head!" laughed the visitor, grateful for any, even nonsensical, words that would relieve the tension of the moment.

But here Aunt Sally caught up the boy and looked him over anxiously; then joyfully declared:

"He's got his senses back. Oh! Gabriella, where are you? Neddy's all right!"

"Oh, auntie, hush! There's no need to tell mother anything of this last danger, and if you'll only please put Ned back to bed she won't have to know."

"Ain't goin' to bed. Been a-bed 'nough," protested the supposed invalid. "Want my clothes. Want to go downstairs and get my supper."

"Get my supper," assented Luis, creeping forward from the corner where he had hidden in fear of he knew not what.

"Hello, echo! You on hand again? How's business?" demanded Ninian, drawing the child towards him.

"First rate," answered Ned, for his comrade, who promptly echoed: "'Strate."

But now came the mother, hurrying up the stairs, with a bowl of gruel she had gone to prepare, and interest in which had opportunely prevented her knowing either of the reporter's arrival or her son's peril. And the visitor sprang to his feet again, while she welcomed him as cordially and gracefully as if she had been sitting in state, expectant, within her own pretty parlor.

One flash of her eyes toward her boy, safe in Mrs. Benton's arms again and carefully wrapped about in her capacious apron, relieved any anxiety she might have felt in coming upon this unexpected group, and she asked, with a little burst of laughter:

"Is it possible that Ned was so quick to welcome you? Well, son, it might have been more courteous to have gone downstairs; but I'm sure our friend will pardon a little lad who's been ill. He's really better, isn't he, Aunt Sally? He looks quite natural."

"Yes, honey, he's better. I reckon he's passed the turnin' point now, if nothin' new sets in. You take Mr. Sharp down into the settin'-room, 'cause he's seen the children and I'll set with them a spell. Wun Lung can get the supper well's I can, if he'll put his heatheny mind to it. Eh? What is it, sonny?"

Fortunately, Ned, like most sleepwalkers, was wholly unconscious of his actions while in that abnormal state, and made no comments on anything save his own reluctance to go to bed while so interesting a gentleman was in the house; but was finally coaxed to do so by the promise of Luis sharing his cot as well as his porridge; whereupon Mrs. Trent kissed him good-night and invited the guest below.

His protestations against another supper, after the excellent one he had taken at Aleck McLeod's, met with nothing but the hospitable rejoinder:

"Oh! but you can surely manage a light refreshment, since you've ridden thirty miles from Marion."

To which the little captain added her entreaties, saying:

"I'm hungry, anyway. I'm always so, I guess, but I couldn't think of breaking bread before you unless you share it."

Therefore sleepy Wun Lung came with the tray, and was gratified by the friendly notice of the stranger; and Mrs. Trent made tea in the little swinging kettle over her alcohol lamp, her daughter declaring that it always tasted better served in that way. Ninian found that, in spite of his protestations, the simple refreshments were very acceptable, and the trio were quietly enjoying their reunion when Jessica suddenly remembered Ephraim and sprang up to go in search of him, exclaiming:

"Even if Mr. Sharp isn't hungry, dear old 'Forty-niner' is sure to be. He'll be here soon, maybe, but I won't wait till the kettle is cold. He's been sleeping at the 'house' ever since he got back and might go straight to his room, if I don't prevent."

When she had gone Ninian observed upon the remarkable devotion between the old sharpshooter and his small pupil, and the mother assented; yet added, as an after-thought:

"I sometimes regret it. Jessica is a child of impulsive, yet absorbing affections. She can see no flaw in the character of anybody she loves; and—well, none of us are perfect, and Ephraim grows old."

Still, when he entered, the lady greeted him with cordiality, and served him promptly; and presently they were all talking eagerly of the recent events at Sobrante. Of course, Pedro came in for a brief but loving mention; and to the guest's inquiry as to what had been done with the fine flock of sheep which the old man had herded, the mistress replied:

"I have sent them up into the mountains, with the herds of a neighbor, for the present. Ephraim, here, petitioned for the post of shepherd, but I dared not give it to him," and she looked deprecatingly toward the sharpshooter.

"No, she didn't," assented he. "She could trust that Old Century, but she couldn't trust me."

There was greater bitterness in the tone than he had ever manifested before his small captain, and she was quick to notice and resent it.

"Look here, you blessed old grumbler, you stop that, please. If not 'please,' stop it anyway, because I'm your commander. You know why, and only why, my mother said 'no' to that bright scheme of yours." Then she explained to Ninian, who was listening closely: "You must understand that shepherding is the very loneliest thing that has to be done on a ranch. The shepherd is alone from week to week; on some ranches from month to month. He hasn't a soul to speak to save when somebody chances to cross his field, which isn't often. A lot of men go crazy, living that way, and mother has always been afraid for even Pedro. I never was for him, though, 'cause he always liked it and had lived so—well, forever. But naughty old 'Forty-niner' felt it would be his 'duty' to go up there away from all of us, and mother wouldn't let him, and so——"

"And so, my honored captain, you'll force me to be a mere hanger-on and idler."

Jessica held up her forefinger, warningly. "That's enough, Ephraim. I am 'She that must be obeyed,' Samson says, sometimes. And one of the times is now. If you and mother aren't ashamed to disagree before my dear Mr. Sharp, I'm ashamed to have you!"

All laughed and none took offense at this plain talk which, jesting though it seemed, covered a serious meaning, and soon "Forty-niner" remarked, as if to close the subject:

"Well, all's said and done; yet, still, I know if I'd been let to have my way in this I'd have stopped a deal of mischief. It would be better, seems to me, to have an old frontiersman living in Pedro's cabin than a spook."

Mrs. Trent started, and, the guest fancied, shivered slightly. But she rejoined, impatiently:

"Oh, Mr. Marsh! that nonsense again, and from you!"

"So they say, ma'am."

Cried Jessica gayly:

"The only thing Sobrante needed to make it as lovely as those old English places one reads about in the story books was a 'ghost', and now we've got it! Honest, and I do hope you'll see it for yourself. I want to so much, and one night Samson and I chased it, but—it got away. The 'boys' say now that it has even taken to horseback. Don't you wish you might be luckier than I, Mr. Ninian?"

A glance flashed between the reporter and the sharpshooter, but not quite swiftly enough to escape the girl's observation; and, after a moment's pause, she exclaimed:

"Why, I believe you have already seen it!"

There was an awkward silence, which Mrs. Trent broke by the stern reproof she managed to throw into one word: "Jessica!"

"Yes, mother, I know. It's silly, and I will be careful not to mention the delightful subject before the children."

"What are you but a child yourself, my mature little woman?" demanded the visitor, playfully.

"Why, I'm a little girl, of course; but one who always wanted to see a fairy, till somebody told me there was none. Now I'm longing for this 'spook'—that really is, 'cause so many, many have seen it—and I'm not even let to talk about him."

Mrs. Trent shook her head regretfully.

"I'm afraid we've spoiled you among us, my darling. But, leaving these unexplained things to explain themselves at their proper time, suppose you go and see that all is ready in Mr. Sharp's room? Wun Lung is still mooning by himself on the kitchen stoop and will do what you ask him."

"They all do that, I infer," commented Ninian, as the child hastened away, eager to serve all whom she loved.

"Yes, they do. It's a delightful, but not, maybe, the wisest life for any girl to live. No playmates except her two small brothers, and no schooling that is at all regular or effective. I can't imagine what Sobrante would be without her, and yet——"

She paused and "Forty-niner" took up her sentence:

"It wouldn't be Sobrante, mistress. That's all. I, for one, couldn't stay here and serve under any other body now except my captain;" and so saying, as if a shadow of the future fell upon him, the old man rose and went out, quite forgetting to say good-night.

Meanwhile, Jessica had found Wun Lung and also found him more than willing to go with her and perform even additional tasks, since by so doing he might have the comfort and safety of human presence. Fragments of talk had come to him in his kitchen concerning the apparitions which had startled the whole countryside, during these past few days, and had received the strongest confirmation from his housemate, Pasqual. The latter believed, indeed, all that he himself heard and invented much more. He had grown to be afraid of his own shadow and now resorted to the men's quarters on each and every occasion that presented, feeling a safety among them he could not feel at the "house" among a lot of women. Of course, his defection from duty entailed endless conflicts between himself and Aunt Sally, but since this resulted in nothing worse to the delinquent than a loss of some dainty food, he could put up with it. He was away now, bunking in Marty's room, and Wun Lung sat alone, too afraid to go to bed, yet too uneasy to enjoy the beauty of the night. His sharp, black eyes peered here and there and everywhere, about the place; and when Jessica came running to him, in her noiseless moccasins, he jumped so high that his queue flew out at a right angle from his head, and he screeched:

"Oh, mly flathe's, mly flathe's!"

Lady Jess laughed aloud.

"No, good Wun Lung. Not your fathers, nor even any of your relatives, but only me. Having had supper, the next thing for our dear Mr. Sharp is a bed and sleep. Come help me make it ready."

The Chinaman rose with alacrity, and soon had collected the bed linen, towels and bucket of water, suggesting that Jessica should bring a lighted candle.

"Oh! we don't need a light, Wun Lung. It's as bright as day with the shutters open, and we must be quick, anyway, for the dear man has been ill and is tired."

The room was the same that Mr. Hale had found so delightful during his own visit to the ranch, and the girl threw the shutters wide, to let in the fresh air and moonlight while they arranged the place for occupancy. She left the bed making to the longer and stronger arms of her assistant, but herself attended to the pitchers and toilet things; and while so engaged, with her back toward the open windows, was suddenly startled by an ear-piercing shriek from the Chinaman.

Shriek? Not one, but many; prolonged, reiterated, till the whole house seemed in an uproar; and facing swiftly about, to learn the cause and still the clamor, Jessica found her lately expressed desire completely gratified. For there, clearly distinct in the moonlight, not ten paces from the window whence she gazed, was the phantom horse and rider!



CHAPTER XVII.

THE CACTUS HEDGE

The shrieks ended by Wun Lung's throwing himself face downward on the floor, but they had roused the whole household, even the sleeping children. Those in the room below had rushed to the stairs, wondering what could possibly have happened to the Chinaman, whose outcries these certainly were. The little lads had sprang from their cot, screaming on their own account, and Mrs. Benton had awaked from the "fortywinks" she was taking in her chair.

As a natural result of her sudden awakening she grasped the two children who were clinging to her skirts and shook them soundly, ordering them to "shut up to once 'fore you scare folks to death."

They were not easily pacified and she thus, fortunately, had her hands full, for the moment, else the fear-paralyzed Wun Lung might have fared hardly. As it was, none but Jessica had a full, clear view of the strange visitant, since the Chinaman had closed his eyes against it and the others had not thought to look out of doors; but she saw it, and with critical distinctness.

For an instant, indeed, her own nerves had thrilled and her heart seemed to stand still; the next her overpowering desire to see the "spook" for herself had conquered her terror and she gazed with all her might.

"It certainly looks like Pedro, with his clothes all white. And the horse—it may be his that died—but—but——"

The ghostly steed and its rider remained utterly motionless, as if scrutinizing the house on their own part or waiting for somebody to appear; then, as the little girl bounded to the open window the better to gratify her curiosity, the animal—if such it was—slowly wheeled about and loped away. There was a sound of muffled footfalls on the hard drive, and the vision had vanished.

Jessica still leaned from the casement watching and thinking more rapidly than she had ever done before; but when convinced that the apparition was really gone, she slowly retreated below stairs, passing her mother and Ninian on the way, yet not pausing till she had gained the side of the sharpshooter. Him she seized, exultantly exclaiming:

"Well, Ephraim, I've seen your spectre!"

"You—have!"

"And it's no more a 'ghost' than I am."

"What do you mean?" he demanded, hastily; ashamed of himself for half regretting that the supernatural view of the matter might not be the right one. "It isn't? Well, what is it, then?"

"It's Antonio Bernal and his horse, Nero."

"Huh! How do you fetch that? When both of them are black as my hat."

Her last, lingering uneasiness banished by his presence and the sound of her own words, with firmer conviction she declared to him and the others who had now gathered about her:

"I 'fetch it' fast enough. This was the way dear old Pedro used to ride; and this is the way your 'spook' sat his horse," she announced, so vividly mimicking both men that all who had known them recognized the likeness, and Ephraim exclaimed:

"That's them to a t-i-o-n-tion! Can seem to see 'em right here before me. Well—what next?"

"Pedro wore his blanket like a king. Antonio has covered his head with that white thing, and even so wasn't half Pedro's height. I shall not soon forget that splendid Old Century, the last time I saw him ride away, that night. A hundred years old, yet as straight in his saddle as a rod."

"Antonio Bernal was a magnificent horseman, darling," suggested Mrs. Trent, from the chair into which she had sunk, as if weakened by the series of startling events which had befallen her home.

"Even so, mother, dear, he couldn't match old Pedro. Antonio sat forward, so, with a careless sort of slouch—just like the 'spook' had."

"What could possibly be his motive for such foolishness, daughter, granting you are right?"

The captain laughed.

"Upon my word, mother, even you, as well as Ephraim, seem sorry it isn't a truly ghost, after all."

"No, no, indeed. I'm sorry, rather, to think it may be Antonio, as you fancy, and that he still persists in troubling us, even by so silly a disguise."

"It hasn't been so silly, Mrs. Trent, if it has hoodwinked a lot of sensible people, and you are right—there must be a motive for it in the actor's mind. I hope Jessica's judgment in the case is correct, for back there in Los Angeles, we didn't find the manager a difficult person to deal with," remarked Mr. Sharp.

The girl went on:

"Then that horse. Don't you remember, mother, and you, Ephraim, the curious little switch Nero used to give his tail whenever he was turned around? Well, this 'spook' horse did just the same thing. Oh, I know, I know I'm right!"

"But how could he turn a black horse snow white, even if you are? As I remember Nero he wouldn't stand much nonsense, even from his own master," said "Forty-niner."

"Pooh! If lack-wit Ferd could paint Prince, as he did—another spirited horse, if you please—Antonio could do what he liked with Nero. It's paint, of course, or something like it."

"But the eyes? The eyes as we saw them on the road, a few hours back, were all on fire. You could see them almost before you could make out that it was a man on horseback was coming. Isn't that so, Sharp?" demanded Ephraim, persistent to the last.

Jessica turned upon him, triumphantly:

"There! I knew from the way you two looked when we were talking a little while ago that you'd seen something out of common! Do tell me about it, please. Do, do!"

Ninian laughed, glanced at his hostess' face, and replied:

"That's a story will keep, and you should be in bed. I don't want to have my coming harm you when I meant it to do you good. Even such a courageous child as you ought to sleep a great deal."

She had been courageous, indeed, and had astonished him by a coolness and readiness of observation which would have done credit to a much older person. He began to realize how different she was from other children of her age, and how the hardihood of her rearing had developed qualities that were quite unchildlike. He wondered how she would adapt herself to the habits and thoughts of other girls of her own age, and was not surprised that Mrs. Trent craved such society for her. He wished that he might see her placed in some good school, yet was doubtful if just the right one could be selected for a pupil so different from ordinary. However, that was not his affair, and to relieve the family of his further presence at that late hour undoubtedly was. So he bade them all good-night and went to his room, and very shortly afterward everybody under that roof was sound asleep.

"Oh, what a dreamless, delicious rest I've had!" was the visitor's waking thought. His next, that it must be very late and that he had put his hostess to unnecessary trouble. Then he turned over "for just one more wink" and slumbered on for another couple of hours. This time he had dreams in plenty; and finally roused from one, of beautiful gardens peopled by harmless "spooks," to a sound of sweet music. By his watch he saw that it was eleven o'clock and remembered that it was Sunday. Also, the music was that of a familiar hymn, played upon a fine piano, which was taken up and sung by a choir of mixed voices, from the childish treble of the two little lads to the stentorian bass of Samson, the mighty.

Hastily dressing, Ninian slipped quietly down the stairs and entered the sunny parlor; where Jessica motioned to a chair which had evidently been reserved for him, and softly approached him with an open hymn book.

It was Mrs. Trent at the piano and her rich soprano voice faultlessly led her straggling chorus, filled for the most part by the men grouped outside on the wide porch. He could see them through the long, French windows, sitting or standing as each felt inclined, but all with that earnest seriousness of demeanor which befitted the day and the task. For task it evidently was to some of them; John Benton, for example. He stood alone, at the most upright post attainable, his book at arm's length, and his head moving from side to side, following the lines, with a little upward toss of it as he reached the end of each, while from his throat issued most startling tones.

Afterwards, Aunt Sally explained, for she had seen Ninian's amused survey of her "boy," that:

"John can no more carry a tune than he can fly, and I'd rather hear him sawin' his boards than tryin' to sing. But he feels it's his duty to help the others along by singing at it and sort of keepin' Gabriell' in countenance, seems if. Sweet, ain't it?"

It had been "sweet" in the guest's opinion—the whole of the short service; conducted with such simple dignity and reverence by the Madonna-like ranch mistress; the music so well chosen, the few prayers so feelingly offered, and the brief exhortation read from the words of a famous divine who had the rare gift of touching men's hearts. And he so expressed himself, as well as his surprise, over the belated breakfast which Mrs. Benton served him when the service was over and the household dispersed.

"Yes, I think it's the nicest thing there is about this dear Sobrante. There's always been the best sort of inflooence here and that's why I like my boy, John, to belong. Cass'us, he used to hold the meeting, and after he died I feared Gabriella wouldn't be equal to it. But bless your soul! if down she didn't come that first Sunday 'at ever was, and her not havin' left her bed sence it happened, and sent Wun Lungy out to have the old mission bell rung, a signal. I'll ever forget it to my dyin' day, I shan't. Her like a spirit all in white and a face was both the saddest and the upliftedest ever I see; and them rough men all crowdin' up to their places, so soft you'd thought they was barefoot 'stead of heavy shod; and Jessie with her arms round the two little ones, and her mother pitchin' the tune, same as usual, and—and—I declare I can't keep the tears back yet, rememberin'. Before she was done the whole kerboodle of us was sobbin' and cryin' like a passel of young ones, and there was she, with her broken heart, as calm and serene as an angel. Angel is what she is, mostly; with just enough old human natur' in her to keep her from soarin' right away. Gabriell's one them scurce kind makes you glad every time she does a wrong or thoughtless thing, 'cause then you know she ain't quite perfected yet, and you're surer of keepin' her 'on earth. My! the good that woman does beats all. This very day, when she'd lots rather stay to home and visit with you, she's give orders for Ephraim to have the buck-board got ready to take her twenty miles to see a neighbor who's sick. She's fixing a basket of things now, and is in a hurry. So that's the reason she didn't come to keep you company herself. Have another piece of chicken—do."

"Thank you, no. I've enjoyed my breakfast hugely, and feel as if I'd never known a moment's illness."

There was the sound of wheels just then and Ninian strolled out to offer his service as escort to the ranch mistress in case she might desire it. But the offer was not made, though the lady greeted him with evident pleasure, and even herself glanced toward the vehicle, as if wishing he might ride with her. But there was Ephraim Marsh, in the glory of a white shirt and brilliant necktie, brushed and speckless, and beaming benevolently upon all less favored mortals. It was only upon such errands of mercy that the mistress ever left her home, and there was not a ranchman in her employ but esteemed it an honor to drive for her whither she would.

Ninian saw the state of affairs plainly enough, and, possibly, so did "Forty-niner" himself; who might, under some circumstances, have sacrificed his pleasure for that of the young man. But not now. Ever since he had returned from his long stay in the city, the sensitive old fellow had felt a difference in his surroundings. There was nobody mean enough to tell him of the base suspicions that his fellow workmen had harbored about him, and they fancied that by treating him with more than former friendliness they could offset the unknown injury they had done him. It was this very effusiveness that had roused his suspicions that something was wrong, and he saw in this solitary drive with his beloved mistress a chance to unburden his mind and get her wise opinion on the matter.

So he merely "passed the time of day" with the guest, helped the lady to her place, and stepped up beside her; then chirruped to his horse and was off.

But Ninian was not allowed much disappointment, for there was Lady Jess, clasping his hand and looking up into his face with the brightest of smiles, as she exclaimed: "Just think of it, dear Mr. Sharp! We are to have a long, delightful day together. Mother will not be home before nightfall and I am to do everything I can to make you happy. As if I wouldn't, even without being bidden! But what shall it be first? Where would you like to walk or ride? Or would you rather rest and read?"

"First, I would like to walk around to that curious hedge yonder, that you told me before had been planted by the old padres. Everything about these ancient missions interests me."

"Oh! I love them, too, and I'm so glad we live on one, or the place where one used to be. That hedge is prickly-pear and was meant to keep the Indians out of the inclosure, if they were ugly. But it's a hundred years old, and Pedro could remember when it was ever so much smaller than now."

It was a weird stretch of the repellent cactus, whose great gnarled branches locked and intertwined themselves in a verdureless mass of thorns and spikes which well might have daunted even an Indian. The hedge was many feet in width and higher than Ninian's shoulder, still green on top, but too unlovely to have been preserved for any reason save its antiquity and history. One end of it was close to the kitchen part of the house, and the other reached beyond the fall of the farthest old adobe.

"A formidable barrier, indeed! It reminds me of some of Dore's fantastic pictures," said the reporter.

"Doesn't it? My mother has books with his drawings in, and I have thought that, too. It is a trouble sometimes, because anybody coming across the field from yonder must go either way around the quarters or all along the back of the house, before he can get in here; when if it weren't there at all, it wouldn't be two steps. But we will never have it cut down because my father said so. He wouldn't have anybody break a single leaf, if he could help it, and—oh, oh!"

Mr. Sharp lifted his head from his close examination of a branch that had particularly interested him and saw Jessica pointing in astonishment at the very heart of the great hedge.

"What is it? Something especially curious?"

"Curious! It's—it's—dreadful! You can see right through it! Somebody has ruined it!"

The reporter stooped and followed the direction of her guiding finger and saw that a strange thing had indeed been done. For a considerable length the terrible barrier had been literally tunneled, though the fact was not easily discernible. Walls of the bare and twisted branches were still left unbroken on either side, but a sufficient space had been scooped out to admit the passage of a human being should such desire a hiding place.

"Oh! isn't that dreadful? Who could have done it, and why?" cried the captain, in distress; and her companion could only think of Aunt Sally's declaration, made to him at breakfast, that Sobrante was "bewitched."



CHAPTER XVIII.

WHAT THE SABBATH BROUGHT

"Now I know how it was that Antonio disappeared that time when Aunt Sally and Ephraim heard him outside the pantry window!" cried Jessica, exultingly; and seeing the gentleman's puzzled expression, told of the scene within the cold closet and of the mocking answer "Forty-niner" had received, when he said he was determined to find out Antonio's retreat. Then she bade her friend stoop again and see for himself how easy it was for one at the rear of the house, where the pantry was, to slip into this cactus tunnel and be utterly hidden from anybody who would search from that side.

They saw, also, that the broken branches had been thrown under the open foundation of the kitchen, leaving no sign of the ruin that had been done.

"A clever scamp, indeed! And any other sort of plant would have withered at the top and led to discovery. But not this; for the verdure has evidently long been gone from this part of the hedge," observed Ninian.

"Oh, yes! This end has been dead for a great while, yet my mother would not have it removed. It would have lasted maybe forever in just that way; and Antonio knew how we prized it. Oh, dear! I do believe he is as wicked as the 'boys' say, though I hate to think that of anybody." "Surely, you have had proof enough of his evil doings, even without these later fantastic developments. You must never trust that man, little girl, should he again try to make you."

"I think he won't bother me. Why should he?" asked she, in some surprise, for her friend's tone had been most impressive. "Why should you imagine that?"

"I don't know myself, exactly why. It just 'happened' into my head. By the way, captain, did you send me all of the specimen of copper that you had?"

"Oh, no, indeed! My mother thought best not. We sent you only a little bit, cut from the larger one Pedro dug. Let's go into the office and I'll open the safe and show you the rest. Do you know anything about such mines and stuff?"

"I do know something about ores and minerals, my dear, for before I was a newspaper man I was a clerk in the office of an expert in such matters. I should greatly like to see your sample," he answered, readily.

So she led the way at once and took the key from a desk drawer, which anybody might have opened, and Ninian remarked:

"What an insecure place for a safe key! Yours is certainly a most confiding household."

"Oh, it's not a very safe safe, anyway," she answered, laughing; "and who would want to open it? It's Ephraim's really, though I don't think he's ever been near it since he came home. Isn't it a great, clumsy key? But my father told me that there are safes much, much larger and stronger than this which are opened by very small keys. Odd, isn't it?" As she spoke she was down upon her knees in front of the strong box and trying with all her small strength to turn the lock; and after watching her for a moment the reporter laughed, and suggested:

"Suppose you just merely pull at the knob. It looks to me as if the thing were already opened, for the door isn't tight; or is that protruding edge of it a part of the general crudeness?"

Jessica obeyed, pulling with such unnecessary force that the safe flew open and he fell backward, laughing.

But Mr. Sharp did not laugh. In view of what had been told him he was afraid the thing had been tampered with, and watched in silence while the little girl thrust her hand into the safe and felt all about, her face lengthening as she did so; but again, suddenly brightening, when she exclaimed:

"Oh, my mother must have done that! There was all the money in here that was left after Elsa got her own share. The first nights two of the 'boys' slept in the house to watch, 'cause mother was afraid we might lose it again. Then, since 'Forty-niner' got home only he has slept here, and he generally 'bunks' on the lounge in this very office. That's what it is, what it must be. My mother has worried about Antonio, and has taken the money and the piece of copper away and put them somewhere else. Well, never mind. She'll show it to you as soon as she comes back; and now, what shall we do next? Would you like to ride?"

Ninian passed his hand across his brow in mild perplexity. An instant conviction had seized him that here was another feature of the mysteries pervading this peaceful ranch; and though he as instantly frowned upon his own suspicion, it would remain to torment him. However, he said nothing further to disturb Jessica's composure, and readily agreed that a ride would be delightful, though he added, grimly:

"I'm so lame and stiff already from yesterday's horseback exercise that I feel older than Ephraim. I expect a 'hair of the same dog' is the best cure, and wish now I had made time, back there in town, to get used to a saddle. I never found it convenient, though, and poor Nimrod missed his outings even more than I did, I fancy. It certainly is a glorious day for a canter, as almost all our days are."

"It's nice, too, when the rains come. We do things indoors then that we never do all the rest of the year. My mother plays and sings half the time, 'cause then she can't go poking around all over the ranch, like she does now. In the evenings the 'boys' all come in and tell stories or do their best to amuse us. We were always happiest, too, when Pedro came, and when my father was here he coaxed him and he came often. Now—he'll never come again!" she finished, with an irrepressible burst of grief, which she as quickly suppressed, for she saw that it saddened her guest as well; and she had been reared in the spirit of hospitality that makes the stranger glad even at the cost of one's own impulses.

So she added, with a smile that seemed all the brighter because of the tears still glistening on her long lashes:

"I'll bring you some books out here and you can rest in the hammock while I run and have the horses saddled. Buster isn't as fast as Nimrod, but he'll go now and then as if he were a colt. I hope this will be one of his fast times, don't you? I love to ride fast!" Ninian smiled rather grimly, answering:

"Just at present, from the state of my poor muscles, I fancy I'd prefer a gait as slow as Buster's ordinary one. But if I stay the week out, I mean to learn a thing or two about that fine beast of mine."

"A week or two! Why, you're to be here till after Christmas, anyway, and that's a fortnight off. I wish—oh, I wish you would live here always!"

From his delightful resting place in a hammock that was "stretched just right," and which commanded one of the loveliest views in the world, he looked afield and wished so too. Fond as he was of his own active city life, this broad outlook appealed to him most strongly; yet he shook off the longing that assailed him to pass his days in the country and opened the book Jessica had brought. He was soon absorbed in its pages and forgot the errand upon which the child had gone, till, after a long time, as it proved, Ned stole bashfully up and pushed a scrap of paper into his down-hanging hand.

"Hello, youngster!" cried the gentleman, sitting up. "What's this?"

The child's timidity banished at the first sound of the visitor's voice. Mr. Sharp reading, with his spectacles on, and Mr. Sharp speaking in that hail-fellow-well-met manner were two different people. Besides that, Ned's shyness was not his strongest feature, though it cropped out now and then to the astonishment of his family. Also, he was fresh from the hands of Aunt Sally and his catechism lesson, into which she had adroitly forced a hint of the conduct due toward a "wise man, that can write printin'." Supposing it to be a production of the little fellow's own, Mr. Sharp delayed the reading of the crumpled epistle he had received and continued his talk with its bearer; who presently forgot his Sunday manners, and reproachfully demanded that "printing press you promised."

"'Cause if I had it I'd be just as smart as you, you know."

"Smartersyou!" cried the echo, clasping Ned's neck with that choking affection of his.

Ned turned upon his other self and pummeled him well, declaring:

"No, you wouldn't neither, Luis Garcia! 'Twouldn't be your printing press, and you can't spell cat backwards! So, there!"

"Cat backwards, dogboycat," gurgled Luis, in a rapture of mere existence.

Ninian laughed at the comical pair, finding them infinitely diverting; and was only brought back to his immediate duty by the insistence of the small messenger, who demanded:

"Why don't you read your letter? I should think anybody what makes newspapers could read a little girl's letter."

"That's a fact; I'll see if I can;" and accordingly spread out the scrap of wrapping paper, which had not been very smooth to start with and had suffered further ill treatment at Ned's hand. The note required a second reading before he could fully comprehend its meaning, which he then found sufficiently startling to send him stableward in hot haste. The message was from the little captain, and was worded thus:

"dear mister sharp please excuse me i must go to a Dyeing man and i Mustnt Tell Who cause if my mother was Home I Wood and she wood say yes. She always helps dyeing folks and sick ones one the boys will go and he can ride Moses or prince Which he likes. I guess marty so i Cant right any more the paper is so littul and i cant Stay."

"JESSICA."

This had been written with a coarse blue pencil, evidently picked up in the stable or workroom; and to the reporter's inquiries, put to the first ranchman he met, there seemed no satisfactory answer. The man in question had not seen Jessica since service, and the men's quarters to which Ninian hurried, were almost deserted. Sunday was their own, so the "boys" spent much of it afield, hunting or visiting on neighboring ranches. Yet a further search revealed John Benton, in his own room, reading; and to him the visitor again put the question of Jessica's probable whereabouts, and showed the letter.

The carpenter was on his feet instantly, a look of apprehension deepening the lines of his earnest face; and running to the door he shouted to a stable boy who was crossing the space before the old adobes:

"Natan! Natan!"

The youth paused, hesitated, yet came no nearer; and John repeated his summons, with an imperative "Here!" Then muttered an explanation to the reporter: "Another of those no-account Greasers; same kind as the Bernals and hired by top-lofty when, he was in charge. Works well enough but——"