of many countries. However widely separated by social conditions, all met here with one common interest. Robert had invested all his savings in the Golden Ledge, the largest mine of this district and the one in which his father was chief owner. One of the great inducements in coming to this far away place was to be near their combined interests, which he could th better 100k after. For they had great hopes that this promising mine would eventually make gold a drug in the market. And earlier it had "panned out" surprisingly.

Every one was enthusiastic, and welcomed the new manager with a heartiness which sent the blood bounding through his veins.

"The right man in the right place," they said, as they nearly wrung his hand from his arm.

The quaint, old-fashioned place which they had taken for their home was on a slight bluff, a little apart from the business center, with wide verandahs shaded by mighty oaks, all bent in the one direction of the prevailing wind, which seemed to have stopped forever after bending them in this attitude of adoration.

Their small family was distinguished by a most valuable and sensible member, which they had brought with them from their former home. It was "Joy" a huge dog, only a little smaller than a goodsized calf, and who had undertaken the heavy responsibility of this little woman, since his babyhood. His origin was always a matter of uncertainty. Doubtless a relic of some idler, who had loved and ridden away. In some points he resembled a mastiff, brindled in color, with a head large in proportion to his body, but in the black muzzle cut squarely off he had decidedly the wicked look of a bulldog. Full of kindliness and an unmistakable appreciation of fun up a certain point, still his calm dignity and active watchfulness boded ill to the evilly inIclined. Of whatever breed, or cross of blood he evidently came of an iron race, and as a dog was without a peer, for his fidelity and courage never wavered while life abode with him.

When Robert assumed charge of the

bank it was considered by the outside world to be perfectly safe, but he had inward misgivings as to the pervious management, knowing well the incompetency of the cashier who had wielded its resources. The ignorant class of the miners had been very slow in trusting their gold to other hands than their own, having greater confidence in the conventional stocking. But after Robert's arrival, he seeming to have gained the hearty respect of these people, they came and laid their precious gold dust pompously on the counter in great confidence, gradually coming to look on the pile of shining dollars behind the glass bars as their very own, in charge of some one whom they trusted.

The Board of Directors had great confidence in this new man, whom they had put in charge, and felt that they were not only incompetent but very pigmies to deal with the errors which their negligence or mismanagement had caused, and were perfectly willing to shield themselves behind this man as their representative. Not only had the bank been grossly misrepresented, but before six months had passed, Robert saw that the affairs were nopelessly involved, and inevitable ruin staring them in the face. As he discovered the alarming and monstrous frauds, which had been perpetrated from time to time, his astonishment changed to sickening dread.

By this time he had come to know the excitable, suspicious medley of humanity which made up the census returns of this district, and shrank from the bare thought of what their frenzy and acts of violence might be when the true state of affairs was made known to them, holding him, as he knew, individually, in their trusting ignorance, as alone responsible for the safety of their treasures.

For seven months he had striven with these financial difficulties, and at last, near the end of October, this man of business knew for a dismal certainty that the time had come for a decision. Unless prompt measures were adopted all would be lost. The black clouds which had been threatening for so long were ready to burst.

Before leaving home on this fatal morn

ing he confided to his wife the dread that had been growing on him all these long months, and of the blow that was likely soon to fall.

She, in this threatened disaster, with true natural womanliness, thought only of the peril of the man whom she loved. When alone in the necessity of some confidant, she took her heart-sickness to Joy, her wise and trusted counselor. He raised his great eyes to her in sympathy, and the swaggering of his great body spoke a world of comfort.

"We must be brave, dear old boy, and everything will come out all right." Was it her tone or manner, or shall we say that he understood? For he rose with deliberation evidently impressed that all could not be well that his mistress should be so troubled; and was alert on the instant in every muscle for her defense, and the full tones of a low growl gave warning to any trespasser on the peacefullness of that quiet home.

When Robert set out for the bank that morning, he knew that he was about to engage in a hard battle. The Board of Directors were to meet in the little office adjoining, at nine, an hour before the usual opening. And what would they decide upon? He knew that there was but one hopeless chance to continue, and that was to make them all feel, shareholders and depositors, that each individually had an equal share in success or failure in order to avoid a panic, and consequent run on the bank. But he had doubts of being able to persuade these "giants of importance" to face the risk of informing the miners of this situation. He knew what ought to be done, and had the courage and confidence to do it promptly, but his power was defined by the Board, and in this great calamity, he could only hope that they would confess their guilt of the past and bravely stand by the simple truth until the storm was passed. But they, in their cowardly weakness and incompetency, thought to put off the evil day, and decided to do the very worst thing imaginable, and that was to close the doors, until such a time as they could call in their resources. "Temporary embarrassment" was the official term entered on the minutes. How

it came to be known at the Golden Ledge that the bank was not to open no one was ever able to tell. But like the muttering of thunder, which grows louder as it nears, it reached the distant mines and fell with a crash. The excitement was intense. Pick and shovel were unceremoniously dropped, and one by one, and in little crowds, they hurried to the town to see if it were a fact. They found it only too true. The doors were closed and barred, and they were met by a card hung on the inside of the glass bearing the word "suspended." This seemed at first to strike the clamorous crowd like an electrical shock, but soon they began to realize what it meant to them, which turned the tide of their panic into a struggling, infuriated mob. Only to get hold of the man whom they had trusted with their hard-earned gold, and who had so grossly deceived them! In their malicious minds, thirsting for revenge, he alone was the one personally responsible.

Even to the little home on the outskirts did a vague murmur of voices penetrate and the little wife waited, in sickening suspense for news. She rose from the window where she had been watching, she knew not how long, and went to the mantle and pulled the pendulum.

"Oh, Joy, anything but this awful suspense!" Her lips trembled as she spoke. "Let us go to meet him."

Eagerly he trotted by her side his whole body bristling with the heavy responsibility which he always assumed when in charge of his wee mistress. There had been no sleep or rest for him this livelong day, and he was only too glad to relieve the tension of long waiting, and go in search of the master.

The sun sank behind the purple dome of the low mountains, and Robert started homeward.

As the few stragglers of the infuriated mob, who were still about the front entrance, saw him emerge from the door, their fury broke out afresh, and he knew that he must expect the worst. He scarce admitted even to himself the fear which began to creep into his mind, but when he thought of the wistful, pathetic little figure of his wife holding her breath and with dim eyes peering into the dark

ening night, an iron band seemed to grip his heart and he said, turning:

"Boys, God knows I've done my best!" "I would like to smash that blooming head of him, for putting up that job on us 'Knights of Labor!'" grumbled the one in the lead fiercely.

"Yer sowl ye! Ye'll not be gettin' another gould sthore out ov the likes ov us," breathlessly threatened one, with bulldog ugliness, louder than the rest. Robert calmly realized that he was facing the chances of death by going on, with this frenzied, drunken rabble at his heels, growing louder and more persistent every instant. Just as he entered the dense shade of the little ravine at the foot of the hill an ominous howl, which filled every echo within reach, chilled his soul with terror, for he recognized Joy, and knew his wife must be

near.

Turning and facing the men he screamed in agony: "Back, you villains!" and he drew his pistol, which he had hitherto ignored.

Panting, with a wild scream, his wife ran from out the gloom and threw herself upon his breast, with her arms clasping his throat like a vice.

The sight of the pistol, which Robert had drawn, loosened the last bond of restraint in these wretches.

"If it's shooting ye'll have, we'll larn ye!" shouted one.

With these words he sent an aimless bullet whizzing through the gathering darkness.

In another instant Joy, without a growl, leaped up and fixed his teeth in the brute's throat with a deadly grip. As he drew his last breath the villain sent another bullet into the dog's body, and they both rolled over together, dead, still clasped in a convulsive embrace. As Robert, with his face wan and painfully set, loosened the clasp about his neck, his little wife's brown head fell heavily on his arm, clinging there with an ominous weight.

"Dear, do you know that you are hurt?" "Oh, Lord, be merciful to us! But it's the misthress we've hit!" some one cries, hoarsely.

The utter unexpectedness of the shot, and the still more unexpected horrible result seems to instantly bring these savages to their senses. Robert lifts the sunny head very gently to his shoulder and bears her softly up the shelving path leading to their cottage. As he goes, all the wealth of her glittering hair falls tumbling about his arm, and her great eyes filled with ineffable love are wide and fixed steadily on his face. She sighs and murmurs wearily, but with pathetic pride:

"It was Joy; my noble dog."

His heart is numb with unknown terror, but hearing the sound of men's voices he turns with a cry of thankfulness on his parched lips, as he recognizes the village doctor, which the penitent men have eagerly summoned.

When the darkness of the early dawn had merged into the misty light of the morning the physician and Robert come out of the quiet chamber together. doctor, before going, holds Robert's hand for a moment and says:

The

"Have patience. Good nursing is all we need now to bring her safely back to health and strength."

The critical morning light reveals the haggard misery of what this night of awful anxiety has been to the husband. There are gray streaks in his hair and he has aged years.

The excitement in the country was tense as soon as the tragedy became known, and even the hardest criminal of them all, who had been most bitter was softened by the awful blow which had fallen on the man whom, when they became more reasonable and calm they knew had done his best. Later, left to himself, he evolved and carried out a scheme by which he restored the bank to its former financial standard and he had no firmer friends than these miners.

The unselfish wife bore the mark of the murderous bullet on her white throat all her life long, and carried a big ache in her heart for the one who had died so bravely for her. They laid him under the shade of a rose in their own garden. Poor old Joy! Being a dog he was only faithful.

&

AN FRANCISCO'S great distance from New York, headquarters for all good things theatrical, places us at a disadvantage. We don't see all the stars, nor do they come with adequate support. Still, considering our remoteness, we get a goodly share of dramatic treats, for which we are adequately thankful. Most of the people whose portraits are presented herewith, some stars and some satellites, have been in San Francisco at one time or another, and of those who have been here we will be glad to see most of them again.

Miss Ethel Barrymore has made a great hit in "Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines," the piece in which she has been starring for several months. Not

a little of the success of the comedy has been contributed by Edwin Stevens, well known to San Franciscans.

We all know and admire Nat C. Goodwin. He is probably the leading American comedian, and in "The Gilded Age," "The American Citizen" and other comedies he has been successful in America, Australia and England, making himself a great favorite in the latter country, where he has a beautiful estate near London. He has not been successful in Shakespeare, although his "Shylock" had great merit. He is too talented an actor to play anything indifferently.

Maxine Elliott, Mr. Goodwin's wife, has long been noted for her beauty, and during the past two or three seasons has