mountains, mutely acknowledging the manifestations of a Presence and a
Power which are not of the earth--earthy. As the rose of dawn blushes on
each waving crest in the birth-hour of the day, or the purple splendour
invests them in regal robes when the sun goes down, they seem to reveal
to us a vision of the other world; those changing lights that fall upon
them are surely the passing gleams of wings of angels; those mystic
voices that linger among their echoes, what can they be but the divine
chords of that glorious harmony which for ever goes up around the "great
white throne"?

* * * * *

Let us now glance at one or two of the personal experiences of Miss
Bird, who, we need hardly say, carried in her bosom a man's heart, and
was never wanting in courage or resolution. Among the Rocky Mountains
one sometimes meets with strange companions; and on her ride from Hall's
Gulch to Deer Valley Miss Bird was joined by a horseman, who would have
made a fine hero of melodrama. A picturesque figure he looked on his
good horse, with his long fair curls drooping from under a big slouch
hat almost to his waist; a fine beard, good blue eyes, a ruddy
complexion, a frank expression of countenance, and a courteous,
respectful bearing. He wore a hunter's buckskin suit, ornamented with
beads, and a pair of very big brass spurs. His saddle was elaborately
ornamented. What chiefly drew attention in his equipment was the number
of weapons hung about him; he was a small arsenal in himself! Two
revolvers and a knife were thrust into his belt, and across his back was
slung a carbine; in addition, he had a rifle resting on his saddle, and
a pair of pistols in the holsters.

This martial rider was Comanche Bill, whom gossip described as one of
the most notorious desperadoes of the Rocky Mountains, and the greatest
Indian "exterminator" on the frontier. His father and family had been
massacred at Spirit Lake by the hands of Indians, who carried away his
sister, a child of eleven. Since then he had mainly devoted himself to
the double task of revenging the victims and searching for this missing
sister.

Riding from Golden City, a place which every day and every hour gave the
lie to its gorgeous name, Miss Bird lost her way on the prairie. A
teamster bade her go forward to a place where three tracks would be
seen, and then to take the best-travelled one, steering all the time by
the north star. Following his dire