with the small Winchester and revolver which her father brought
with him from the East. Perched like a bird upon her own Cap, as she
named him, she often dashed for a mile down the trail, wheeling like
a flash and returning at full speed.

"Have a care," said Parson Brush, more than once; "you ride like a
centaur and none knows better how to use firearms, but there are
Indians in these mountains and they sometimes approach nigh enough to
be seen from New Constantinople. Then, too, your father brought word
that other miners are working their way toward us. More than likely
there are bad men among them whom it is best you should not meet."

"But none would harm _me_," was the wondering reply of the miss; "are
not all of my own race my friends?"

"They ought to be, but alas! it is too much to expect."

She could not believe, however, that any danger of that nature
threatened her, but she deferred to the fears of her father,
Lieutenant Russell and the parson to that extent that she generally
had a companion with her on these dashes down the trail. Sometimes it
was Brush, sometimes Ruggles or her parent, and less frequently the
young officer. Timon always galloped or trotted behind her pony, and
she could not be made to believe that his protection was not
all-sufficient.

The winds of early autumn were moaning through the gorges and canyons
of the Sierras, bringing with them the breath of coming winter, which
was often felt with all its Arctic rigor in these depressions among
the towering peaks and ridges. The usual group was gathered in the
Heavenly Bower, though two of the most prominent citizens were absent.
They were Felix Brush and Wade Ruggles, who were seated in their
cabin, where a small fire had been kindled on the primitive hearth and
afforded the only light in the small apartment. They had eaten their
evening meal and as usual were smoking.

As neither cared to taste the Mountain Dew, so winsome to a majority
of the miners, the two often spent their evenings thus, especially
since the shadow caused by the coming of Lieutenant Russell had fallen
across their threshold.

"Things begin to look better than afore," remarked Ruggles, sitting
with one leg flung across the other and looking thoughtfully into the
fire.

"Yes, I always insisted that the soil about here is auriferous and we
had only to stick to it to obtain our reward."

Ruggles took his pipe from his mouth and looked at his partner with a
disgus