ed beneath tons of earth.

At the mouth of the cave Foster Fairfax caused a cross to be erected,
bearing the name of the unfortunate man, the date of his birth and of
his death.

Frank remained in the park till he succeeded in photographing some "real
wild buffalo," and then he was well satisfied to move on to other fields
of adventure.

Half Hand was shot while trying to get away with a stolen horse about a
year later.

When the time came to part from Frank, little Fay was almost
heart-broken. She clung to him, sobbing:

"Is you doin' to leave me? I don't want you to! You know I is your
Fairy."

"You will ever be my Fairy," said the boy, with deep feeling. "Your
mamma has promised me your picture, and I shall keep it with me ever.
Some time by and by, dear, I will come back to you again."

And he kissed her farewell.

CHAPTER XXXV.

A PECULIAR GIRL.

The remainder of the stop in Yellowstone Park proved a delightful time.

"I wish I could sthay wid ye, Frankie, me b'y," said Barney, one day.

"Stay with me? What do you mean?" asked Frank.

"Oi have news from home. Oi must go back to Fardale to rasume me
studies."

"I'll be sorry to lose you Barney." And Frank spoke the truth, for he
loved his Irish chum a good deal.

Just then Professor Scotch burst in on the pair, telegram in hand.

"I must return East at once," he cried. "A relative of mine has died and
I must settle up his affairs."

"Two at once!" ejaculated Frank. "Then I'll be left to continue my
travels alone."

"Not for long, my boy," answered the professor. "I will soon return to
see that you fall into no more danger."

Two days later found Frank alone, the professor and Barney have taken
the eastbound train the evening before. Frank proceeded to Ogden, Utah,
where he spent three days in sight-seeing.

But he was anxious to go farther West, and one fine day found him a
passenger on the Pacific Express, bound for San Francisco.

Every seat in the parlor cars was taken, as Frank discovered, on
endeavoring to obtain one. Then he decided that any kind of a seat would
do, but nearly every one was occupied.

As he passed through the train, he noticed a girl of seventeen or
eighteen who seemed to be sitting alone. She was reading, and, as Frank
came along, she dropped the book in her lap, looked up, and smiled.

Frank touched his hat, paused, and asked:

"Is this seat taken, miss?"

"No, sir."

"Would you object----"

He p