nd contempt. The masks which the poor wear in
the presence of the rich were off.

"I mean," Ajax replied, savagely--so savagely that the old man
recoiled and nearly fell off the barrel--"I mean, Mr. Spooner, that
the diphtheria has come to Paradise, and is likely to stay here so
long as there is flesh for it to feed on."

"The diptheery?" exclaimed Pap.

Into his eyes--those dull grey eyes--flitted terror and horror. But
Ajax saw nothing but what had festered so long in his own mind.

"Aye--the diphtheria! You are rich, Mr. Spooner; you can follow your
cattle into a healthier country than this. My advice to you is--Get!"

The old man stared; then he slid off the barrel and shambled out of
the store as little Sissy Leadham entered it. The child looked
curiously at Andrew Spooner.

"What's the matter with Pap?" she asked, shrilly.

She was a pretty, tow-headed, rosy-cheeked creature, the daughter of
George Leadham, a widower, who adored her. He was looking at her now
with a strange light in his eyes. Not a man in the store but
interpreted aright the father's glance.

"What's the matter with pore old Pap?" she demanded.

The blacksmith caught her up, kissing her face, smoothing her curls.

"Just that, my pet," said he. "He's old, and he's poor--the poorest
man, ain't he, boys?--the very poorest man in Paradise."

The child looked puzzled. It would have taken a wiser head than hers
to understand the minds of the men about her.

"I thought old Pap was rich," she faltered.

"He ain't," said the blacksmith, hugging her tight. "He's poorer than
all of us poor folks put together."

"Oh, my!" said Sissy, opening her blue eyes. "No wonder he looks as if
someone'd hit him with a fence rail. Pore old Pap!" Then she whispered
some message, and father and child went out of the store.

We looked at each other. The storekeeper, who had children, blew his
nose with unnecessary violence. Ajax said, abruptly: "Boys, I've been
a fool. I've driven away the one man who might help us."

"That's all right," the storekeeper growled. "You done first-rate,
young man. You tole the ole cuss in plain words what we've bin a-
thinkin' fer a coon's age. Help us? Not he!"

Outside, our saddle-horses were hitched to the rail. We had managed to
save our horses. Ajax and I rode down the valley, golden with the
glory of the setting sun. Beyond, the bleak, brown hills were clothed
in an imperial livery of purple. The sky was amber and rose