ridiculous scrap as Garfias. Her flirtations were more
calmly audacious than ever, her dancing more spirited; in every frolic
she was the leader.

Suddenly Dona Pomposa was smitten with rheumatism. She groaned by night
and shouted by day. Eulogia, whose patience was not great, organized
a camping party to the sulphur springs of the great rancho, Paso des
Robles. The young people went on horseback; Dona Pomposa and Aunt
Anastacia in the wagon with the tents and other camping necessities.
Groans and shrieks mingled with the careless laughter of girls and
caballeros, who looked upon rheumatism as the inevitable sister of old
age; but when they entered the park-like valley after the ride over the
beautiful chrome mountains, Dona Pomposa declared that the keen dry air
had already benefited her.

That evening, when the girls left their tents, hearts fluttered, and
gay muslin frocks waved like agitated banners. Several Americans were
pitching their tents by the spring. They proved to be a party of mining
engineers from San Francisco, and although there was only one young
man among them, the greater was the excitement. Many of the girls were
beautiful, with their long braids and soft eyes, but Eulogia, in
her yellow gown, flashed about like a succession of meteors, as the
Americans drew near and proffered their services to Dona Pomposa.

The young man introduced himself as Charles Rogers. He was a
good-looking little fellow, in the lighter American style. His
well-attired figure was slim and active, his mouse-coloured hair short
and very straight, his shrewd eyes were blue. After a few moments'
critical survey of the charming faces behind Dona Pomposa, he went off
among the trees, and returning with a bunch of wild flowers walked
straight over to Eulogia and handed them to her.

She gave him a roguish little courtesy. "Much thanks, senor. You must
scuse my English; I no spik often. The Americanos no care for the
flores?"

"I like them well enough, but I hope you will accept these."

"Si, senor." She put them in her belt. "You like California?"

"Very much. It is full of gold, and, I should say, excellent for
agriculture."

"But it no is beautiful country?"

"Oh, yes, it does very well, and the climate is pretty fair in some
parts."

"You living in San Francisco?"

"I am a mining engineer, and we have got hold of a good thing near
here."

"The mine--it is yours?"

"Only a part of it."

"The Americanos make al