that particular
gorge in the mountain where _el tesoro_ was supposed to be located. John
Edwards stood in the house door watching him ambling over the waste,
yellow plain, until Jim and his horse together appeared a mere speck in
the distance, when he went to talk over with his sister the late
transaction, and make some jesting remarks on the probability of the
desired discovery.

The days sped by, and there remained but two before Christmas. John and
his sister were consulting together over the arrangement of some
evergreen arches and wreaths of bay-leaves. Miss Edwards was explaining
where the floral ornaments should come in, where she would have this
picture, and where that, and how it would be best to light the rooms.

"I confess, John," she said, sitting down to braid the scarlet berries
of the native _arbutus_ into a wreath with the leaves of the California
nutmeg, "that I can not make it seem like winter or like Christmas, with
these open doors, these flowers, and this warm sunlight streaming in at
the windows. I do wish we could have a flurry of snow, to make it seem
like the holidays."

"Snow is out of the question; but I should be thankful for a good
rain-storm. If it does not rain soon, there will be another failure of
crops next year in all this part of the country."

"And then we should have to 'go down into Egypt for corn,' as the
Israelites used to. Do you feel very apprehensive, John?"

Before John could reply, his attention was diverted by a strange
arrival. Dismounting from Jim's horse was a man whom he did not at once
recognize, so shabby were his clothes, so worn and haggard his
appearance. With a feeling of vague uneasiness and curiosity, he
sauntered toward the gate, to give such greeting as seemed fit to the
stranger who came in this guise, yet riding a well-conditioned horse
belonging to one of his own men.

Miss Edwards, who had also recognized the animal, ran, impulsively, to
the door. She saw her brother advance to within a few feet of the
stranger, then turn abruptly on his heel and return toward the house.
The man thus contemptuously received, reeled, as if he would have
fallen, but caught at the gate-post, where he remained, leaning, as if
unable to walk.

"Who is it, John?" asked Miss Edwards, anxiously regarding her brother's
stern countenance; but he passed her, without a word.

A sudden pallor swept over her face, and she looked, for one moment, as
if she might have fainted;