on a neighboring boulder, evidently of the opinion that the judicial
nature of the question before him demanded a sitting posture.

"I dunno about that, M'lissy," he said, shutting one eye and squinting
across the valley sagaciously. "The _Soo_preme Court of the State of
Californy said he didn't, an' yer maw says he did,--with regards to the
canon, that is. The land,--well, she deeded him the land, but he sort o'
had the snap on her when she done it. You'll find, M'lissy," he added,
with a careful disavowal of prejudice, "that there's as much difference
of 'pinion about stealin' as there is about heaven."

There was a long, serene, comfortable silence. Even the mule seemed
dreamily retrospective. Bees reveled in the honeyed wealth of the
buckthorn, and chanted their content in drowsy monotony. The upland
lavished its spicy sweetness on the still, yellow air. A gopher peered
out of its freshly made burrow with quick, wary turns of its little
head, and dropped suddenly out of sight as Melissa spoke.

"How come mother to deed him the land, Sandy?"

The weight of decision being lifted from Lysander's shoulders, he got up
and resumed his work, evidently esteeming a mild form of activity
admissible in purely narrative discourse.

"Well, ye see, M'lissy, yer maw home-stidded the land and filed a claim
on the water in the canon eight or ten years back, when neither of 'em
was worth stealin'; an' she 'lowed she done the thing up in good shape,
and had everything solid an' reg'lar, till Colonel Forrester come and
bought the Santa Elena ranch and a lot o' dry land j'inin' it, and
commenced nosin' around the canon, an' hirin' men to overhaul the county
record; an' the fust thing you know, he filed a claim onto the water in
the canon. Then you can guess what kind of a racket there was on hand."

Lysander paused, and sat down on a pile of stones, shaking his head in
vague, reminiscent dismay. The young girl turned and looked at him, a
sudden gleam of recollection widening her eyes.

"I b'lieve I remember 'bout that, Sandy," she said, with a little thrill
of animation in her voice.

"Like enough. You was quite a chunk of a girl then. Minervy an' me was
bee-ranchin' over t' the Verdugo, that spring. The rains was late and
lodged yer maw's barley, so as 't she didn't have half a crop; an' you
know yer paw's kind o'--kind o'--easy,"--having chosen the adjective
after some hesitation, Lysander lingered over it approvingly,--"and