e hands of a busy housewife, have presented a very
different appearance. But Jessie was not a good housewife. She hated
the care of her little home. She was not a bad woman, but she had no
sympathy with the harshnesses of life. She yearned for the amplitude
to which she had been brought up, and detested bitterly the pass to
which her husband's incapacity had brought her.

When she had married Scipio he had money--money that had been left to
him for the purpose of embarking in business, a purpose he had
faithfully carried out. But his knowledge of business was limited to
the signing of checks in favor of anyone who wanted one, and, as a
consequence, by the time their twins were three years old he had
received an intimation from the bank that he must forthwith put them
in credit for the last check he had drawn.

Thus it was that, six months later, the thirty or forty inhabitants of
Job's Flat on Suffering Creek--a little mining camp stowed away in the
southwest corner of Montana, almost hidden amongst the broken
foothills of the Rocky Mountains--basking in the sunshine of a Sunday
afternoon haze, were suddenly startled by the apparition of a small
wagon, driven by a smaller man with yellow hair, bearing down upon
them. But that which stirred them most surely was the additional sight
of a handsome girl, sitting at his side, and, crowded between them on
the seat, a pair of small children.

Scipio, in a desperate effort to restore his fortunes, and set his
precious family once more on a sound financial basis, had come in
search of the gold which report said was to be had on Suffering Creek
for the trouble of picking it up.

This vision startled Suffering Creek, which, metaphorically, sat up
and rubbed its eyes. Here was something quite unaccustomed. The
yellow-haired fragment of humanity at the end of the reins was like
nothing they had ever seen; the children were a source of wondering
astonishment; but the woman--ah! There was one woman, and one woman
only, on Suffering Creek until Jessie's arrival, and she was only the
"hash-slinger" at Minky's store.

The newcomer's face pleased them. Her eyes were fine, and full of
coquetry. Her figure was all that a woman's should be. Yes, the camp
liked the look of her, and so it set out to give Scipio a hearty
welcome.

Now a mining camp can be very cordial in its rough way. It can be
otherwise, too. But in this case we have only to do with its
cordiality. The men of Sufferin