e now. I
believe I'll walk round there anyway, and if I see a light, I'll go in,
and if old _paterfamilias_--how I'd like to kick him--is there, I'll
tell him the news, and that I know now he did not strike Jerrie with the
table-leg, and perhaps I'll apologize for what I said when in the car.
Tom Tracy, you are a scoundrel, and no mistake,' he added, with energy,
as he arose, and struck into the field, through which he had dragged Ann
Eliza the night of the storm.

There were lights at Le Bateau, and Tom was soon shaking hands with old
_paterfamilias_, who was at home, and with Ann Eliza, who was now able
to come down stairs.

CHAPTER XLVII.

ARTHUR.

He had enjoyed himself immensely, from the moment he first caught sight
of grand old Pike's Peak on the distant plains until he entered the city
of the Golden Gate, and, standing on the terrace of the Cliff House,
looked out upon the blue Pacific, with the sea lions disporting on the
rocks below. For he went there first, and then to China-town, and
explored every nook and corner, and opium den in it, and drank tea at
twenty dollars a pound in a high-toned restaurant, and visited the
theatre and the Joss House, and patronized the push-cars, as he called
them, every day, and experienced a wonderful exhilaration of spirits, as
he sat upon the front seat, with the fresh air blowing in his face, and
only the broad, steep street, lined with palaces, before him.

'This is heaven! this clears the cobwebs!' he would say to Charles, who
sat beside him with chattering teeth and his coat-collar pulled high
about his ears, for the winds of San Francisco are cold even in the
summer.

Arthur's first trip was to the Yosemite, taking the Milton route, and
meeting with the adventure he so much desired; for in the early morning,
between Chinese Camp and Priest's, the stage was suddenly stopped by two
masked marauders, one of whom stood at the horses' heads, while the
other confronted the terrified passengers with the blood-curling words:

'Hands up, every soul of you!'

And the hands went up from timid women and strong men, until click-dick
came in rapid succession from the driver's box, where Arthur sat, and
shot after shot followed each other, one bullet grazing the ear of the
highwayman at the horses' head, and another cutting through the slouched
hat of his comrade near the stage.

'Leave, or I'll shoot you dead! I've five more shots in this one, and
two more revolver