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"pardners a term unknown save in the West, but one that signifies much; a tacit bond, unguarded by aught save friendship, but which is often stronger than all the oath-bound brotherhoods of secret societies. It was a new departure to see Dick advising caution to his pardner, Dick, the most reckless man of all the frontier, but as that worthy said, "It 'peared to him that Morry tried every way in the world to get killed; he did n't know nothin' and so he war n't afraid o' nothin'."

And it certainly did look very much that way. When, a year or so before, Maurice had at last come to the conclusion, forced upon him by circumstances, that a fortune, however great, must finally succumb to the demands made upon it by hundred per cent loans, he had asked the head of his house a great name, known throughout Europe what he must do.

"Marry an American girl," suggested that personage.

But marriage was not in the gay Parisian's line.

"Then go somewhere and get killed." Maurice had apparently chosen the latter alternative.

As the months merged into years and his life became not an experiment or caprice, but a settled fact, he almost ceased to have the ambitions or longings that had beset him at first. Here, away from civilization and refinement, apart from the society of of men and women of his own class, he often looked back with feelings of contempt upon the old life, that had passed as a dream. And yet, with all, he preserved his individuality, and an acquaintance of the times more prosperous would have recognized in the cow-boy, the same generous, courteous, pleasure-loving Maurice of the Saint Germain, the noblesse oblige was as strong in the heart that beat beneath the rough flannel shirt, as it had been under the broadcloth.

One spring it was said that the ranch was to change hands. The owner sent word to the foreman to round the cattle in from the great territory over which they had strayed and hold them in one vast herd, to be inspected by the prospective purchaser. For a month there was hard riding, and then one by one the different parties into which the outfit had separated came in, driving each their restless drove of semi-wild beasts.

It was a goodly herd, when all were together, stretching in loose array almost as far as the eye could see, and like some great winddriven cloud, ever changing shape as each restless beast strove to regain its accustomed range.

The three stalwart young Englishmen for whom all this show had been prepared, from a vantage point on a swell of the prairie, took the sight in at a glance and had their ranching fever received a check from the somewhat rough experiences of the past ten days, the scene before them was quite enough to rekindle their enthusiasm. Accompanied by the cow-man, they rode slowly around the vast herd. It was all that had been claimed, composed of sleek beasts, with great broad horns and fierce, wild eyes that gazed with wonder at the, then, rare sight on those prairies — man a herd of such animals as one only saw in the good old days of free range, when no aggravating wires fenced the limitless plains or stayed the wanderings of the restless herds. That time has now gone. The almost feudal rule of the cattle barons" as they were called is drawing to a close and the cowboys together with their wild charges will soon be things of the past. But it was a goodly time, the remembrance of which must ever quicken the pulses of those who saw it.

The trade was made, and he who at peril of life had wrested the lands from the hands of the Indians and nursed the insignificant bunch of cows through the thousand dangers, as little by little they increased to the present great band, signed with his almost unreadable signature the paper that turned the whole over to the new owners.

A few days later the branding began. In small bands the cattle were driven into the corral and branded with the mark that claimed them for the English syndicate. It was hard, rough, dangerous, yet exhilarating work; a fight of man against beast, brute force against human strength.

As usual, Morry threw himself into the pen with characteristic energy,— toiling, sweating, swearing, and yelling, as wildly as the wildest of the crew,- now circling his coiling lariat around the horns of some great steer and stopping a charge that threatened a comrade,-- then dodging an infuriated rush that meant destruction to himself.

The accident came at last

as it too often did, in those days. An unusually wild bunch of steers had been driven up, and in spite of desperate fighting had all been marked, except one great fellow, which stood in a corner, head down, pawing the ground and breathing his defiance in quick, short snorts from his distended nostrils until the dust rose in clouds. The men were all on foot and Dick with a warning shout threw his rope. The noose settled well over the two branching horns, and with a bellow of rage the sullen brute charged at Morry, who was standing on the other side of the corral, and depending on the rope which Dick had hitched to the snubbing post immediately after the cast, was careless of danger. There was a creaking sound as the tough raw-hide cut its way into the mesquite wood of the post and then, with a snap, it broke. A horrible sight followed. The unrestrained beast bore the cow-boy senseless to the dust and like a demon of vengeance gored and crushed the prostrate flesh, until shot after

shot from the six-shooters, forced life from a dozen bullet wounds, and stretched the brute, dead, across the body of its victim.

Carefully from beneath the great carcass we drew the poor, wounded body of our comrade and tenderly carried him, dying, to the ranch house.

Death came an hour later, not to a senseless body, but to one who consciously faced and silently met him as bravely as his ancestors had done on more glorious fields in the days of old:

After all was over, a little gold locket, bloodstained and battered, was taken from the crushed breast, and one of the new English ranch men, stepping to the one window of the gloomy room, read by the dying light the inscription it bore, and then with a gasp of surprise turned wonderingly to the body lying in its blood.

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resorts people go not to worship nature, but to see and be seen by their kind. They play tennis and golf, swim in warmed tanks, drive behind fine horses, dress for dinner, and do all these things in the conventional and polite way, and in them "they have their reward."

This article, however, is addressed to people of a different sort,-to those who desire when they go into the country to get close to nature, who love to break their way through thickets of manzanita brush for the sake of of finding some untrodden glade, where they may lie on a cushion of moss or fallen leaves, and watch the glisten of the sunlight on the madroño leaves or its varied play through the foliage of a great white oak, or hear the murmur of the breeze in the pine needles. They love to find the shy flowers of the fri

A GREETING AT THE FRONT GATE

tillaria, the columbine, and the mountain mariposa, and many more that it puzzles them to name. They delight to meet the woodland creatures, bird, beast, and reptile, and to study natural history at first hand. Perhaps the sportsman instinct is strong in them and they love to lure the wary trout from his hole beneath the little fall caused by the roots of a great tree or an obstructing bowlder, or to shoot squirrels, doves, quail, or rabbits. They may even have ambitions to bring in a deer, a "spike" or a "two pointer," from the chemise-covered hillside.

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For such people there are springing up in various parts of California little resorts, farmhouses, country hotels, places away from main lines of travel, away even from regular stage routes, where these things are to be found in perfection. Northern Mendocino has many of these scattered through the little valleys that separate the wooded mountains which corrugate its surface.

I do not propose to mention them all, or any except enough to give a local habitation to the incidents I shall relate. They may be distinguished from the fashionable resorts very easily, it is simply a question of price. When a resort charges ten dollars a week or over, shun it as you would a pestilence, that is, if you are of the nature-loving sort, for the rate is proof positive of an amount of vogue, and a sophistication destructive of the virgin charms of country hospitality and undefiled nature.

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At the real rural "hotel" there is more freedom, almost, than in camp; for all the care of cooking and making of beds are taken from your hands, and you are free to wander when and where you will. If you are one of a party, even of three or four, you can easily take up all the available space of the house, and so be the only guests, to whose desires all things are made to conform. You may set the time for meals as you will, day by day, and regulate all your uprisrisings and downsittings. Within liberal limits you may

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