ingering look, the look of one who would carry in his
heart the image of what he beholds all the rest of his life. Then she,
too, made her way through the doorway into the deepening dusk.

On the beach below, squatted within the opened flap of his tepee,
Torquam, mighty chief of the Mariposa, smoked his evening pipe. A
wonderful pipe it was, long and delicately fashioned, inlaid with
iridescent fragments of shell. Yet instantly he laid it aside as the
slender form of his daughter darkened the doorway.

"Ah, Wildenai, little wild rose, welcome art thou as sunshine after
rain!" His eyes lighted with the tenderness never seen there by any
other than this motherless girl. He stretched his hand to her and the
princess came silently and knelt before him.

"My father," she said firmly, though in so low a tone that Torquam bent
to hear. "Oh, father, thou art always wise! Thou only knowest best.
I come to thee to tell that I will wed Cabrillo. I will wed with him
whenever thou dost choose!"

Taking her face between his hands, Torquam gazed long and searchingly
into the sorrowful eyes of his daughter.

"And thou art wise to do so, my beloved one," he said at last. "He will
make to thee a good husband." In his voice was the keen understanding
of a father. "He will be kind to thee and heal thy wounded heart, my
daughter. Don Cabrillo is a good man," he repeated solemnly.

Part II. Miss Hastings Brings It to an End

Centuries passed, and again, with the same sweet suddenness as in the
days gone by, spring came to Catalina. Guests of the St. Catherine,
lounging on its wide verandahs, gazed across a sunlit sea to where
the faint cloud that was San Jacinto hovered, the merest ghost of a
mountain, above the misty mainland. Along the broad board-walk leading
down to Avalon benches, shaded by brightstriped awnings, flaunted an
invitation to every passing tourist. Strings of Japanese lanterns bobbed
merrily above the narrow village streets. Everywhere were laughter
and movement and color from the bathing beaches, dotted with gay
umbrellas--even to the last yacht anchored round the point.

To the man making slow progress down the crowded wharf from the
afternoon boat this holiday world into which he thus suddenly stepped,
presented an appearance so different from that he had pictured as almost
to bewilder him. At sight of the jaunty little motorbus waiting to haul
him up the winding grade to the hotel, he actually hesita