Project Gutenberg's The Transformation of Job, by Frederick Vining Fisher

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: The Transformation of Job
A Tale of the High Sierras

Author: Frederick Vining Fisher

Release Date: June 3, 2008 [EBook #25688]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRANSFORMATION OF JOB ***

Produced by Mark C. Orton, Linda McKeown, Karen Dalrymple
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net

THE

TRANSFORMATION OF JOB

A TALE OF THE HIGH SIERRAS

[Illustration: (portrait of author)]

_BY FREDERICK VINING FISHER._

[Illustration: (decoration)]

DAVID C. COOK PUBLISHING COMPANY
ELGIN, ILL., AND
36 WASHINGTON ST., CHICAGO.

Copyright, 1900,
By David C. Cook Publishing Company.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

If one will take the trouble to tramp with staff in hand the high
Sierras, he will find not only the Yosemite, but Gold City and Pine
Tree Ranch, though perhaps they bear another name. Most of the quaint
characters of this tale still dwell among the vine-clad hills. To
introduce to you these friends that have interested the author, and to
tell anew the story of the human soul, this work is written.

Out of love of never-to-be-forgotten memories of Pine Tree Ranch, the
author dedicates this book to him who once welcomed him to its white
porch, but who now sleeps beneath the shadow of the mountains--Andrew
Malden.

FREDERICK VINING FISHER.

THE TRANSFORMATION OF JOB,

A TALE OF THE HIGH SIERRAS.

_By FREDERICK VINING FISHER._

CHAPTER I.

THE NEW ARRIVAL AT GOLD CITY.

The stage was late at Gold City. It always was. Everybody knew it, but
everybody pretended to expect it on time.

Just exactly as the old court-house bell up the hill struck six, the
postmistress hurriedly opened her door and stood anxiously peering up
the street, the loafers who had been dozing on the saloon benches
shuffled out and leaned up against the posts, the old piano in the
Miners' Home began to rattle and a squeaky violin to gasp for breath,
while the pompous landlord of the "Palace Hotel," sending a Chinaman
to drive away a dozen pigs that