g them down in his book, the dude was yawning and
hoping there would be a dance at the hotel, while the Bishop got out
and, walking away from the rest, stood and looked and looked and
looked, till Job heard him intoning in a voice in keeping with the
grandeur of the scene, "I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker
of heaven and earth."

Job stayed behind as the stage rattled down the side of the mountain,
tethered Bess by a big cedar, lay in a grassy nook and looked down,
down, where the Merced abutted the base of El Capitan and tumbled down
the narrow canyon that leads from the valley far below to the plains.
All the reverence of his soul, all that was noble and lofty in him,
rose as he gazed upon the scene. The littlenesses, the meannesses of
the world, were left far behind. Like Moses of old, he was in the
cleft of the mountains and the glory of Jehovah lay stretched out
before him.

It was toward sunset when he reached the floor of the valley and
walked Bess across the three bridges that span the branches of the
Bridal Veil Creek, saw the bow of promise in the misty spray that
seemed to ever hang in mid-air against the cliffs, galloped down the
Long Meadow, past the Valley Chapel, and pulled up at the Sentinel
House for the night.

That night the silver gleam of the Yosemite itself looked in at his
window, as the new moon shone on its waters falling from the endless
heights above, and the ripple of those waters soothed him to sleep as
they rolled past his door, under the bridge and away down the valley.

* * * * *

In a most romantic little spot just across the bridge near the Falls
of the Yosemite, and where the icy creek hides itself in bushes and
reappears under the bridge, stood an abandoned Indian wick-i-up, half
hid among the saplings. Here, throwing flap-jacks into the air with a
toss over a crackling camp-fire, singing merrily, Job found Jane the
next morning as he was roaming the valley in the early hours on Bess'
back. It was a genuine surprise. She was not expecting him, even if
she had dreamed of him all night. Her first impulse was to express
with childish glee her real delight, but her very joy made her
reserved. She restrained herself lest she should display her real
feelings. She was glad to see him, of course; her father was better,
and was off getting wood for the fire. Were the folks all well? Had he
seen Dan lately? (Which question cut Job deeper that he l