up there in the rock. I had to bring it down to the forge, an' I guess
I'll git you to take it back to 'em in the morning. I've got through
with the ditch, and I want to go to makin' basins; them orange-trees
west o' the road needs irrigatin'."

"Yes, they're awful dry; they're curlin' a little," said the girl, with
waning interest. "I thought mebbe Mr. Poindexter done the singin'?" she
added, after a little silence.

Her brother-in-law hesitated, and then found his way back.

"No, I guess not; I s'pose he joins in now and then, but it's the
Easterner that leads off."

"Jee-_ee_-rusa_lem_, my happy home!"

Lysander threw his head back against the casement of the door, and broke
into the evening stillness with his heavy, unmanageable bass. Mrs.
Sproul came to the door to "take the baby in out of the night air;" the
air indoors being presumably a remnant of midday which had been
carefully preserved for the evening use of infants.

The next morning Melissa carried the pick to the workmen at the tunnel.

A fog had drifted in during the night, and was still tangled in the tops
of the sycamores. The soft, humid air was sweet with the earthy scents
of the canon, and the curled fallen leaves of the live oaks along the
flume path were golden-brown with moisture. Beads of mist fringed the
silken fluffs of the clematis, dripping with gentle, rhythmical
insistence from the trees overhead.

Melissa had set out at the head of a straggling procession, for the
children had clamored to go with her.

"You can go 'long," she said, with placid good nature, "if you'll set
down when you give out, and not go taggin' on, makin' a fuss."

In consequence of this provision various major-generals had dropped out
of the ranks, and were stationed at different points in the rear, and
only Melissa and Ulysses S. Grant were left. Even that unconquerable
hero showed signs of weakening, lagging behind to "sick" his yellow cur
into the wild-grape thickets in search of mountain lion and other
equally ambitious game.

Melissa turned in the narrow path, and waited for him to overtake her.

"I b'lieve you'd better wait here, 'Lyss," she said gravely. "You can go
up the bank there and pick some tunas. Look out you don't get a cactus
spine in your foot, though, for I hain't got anything to take it out
with exceptin' the pick,"--she smiled in the limp depths of her
sunbonnet,--"an' I won't have that when I come back."

The dog, returned from the