on hand as a reserve fund for the child's enjoyment, bringing out a little each day, until his visits came with such regularity as to be always waited and anticipated for.

So for two or three weeks. At the end of that time, Hank Rollof, upon drawing near to the little old tent, saw that the child was not in front, awaiting him, as usual; only the father, toilsomely mending the tattered frock. Meg was not well, he said— a headache or something of that sort. He had thought that she had better not get up; and as for himself, he had concluded he would stay by her, and not go to his gulch that day.

"No, let the old mine go," said the gambler. "Time enough to get out the gold when she's all right again; and tell her that I came as usual-I wouldn't want her to think that I was neglecting her, you know -and that I will come again to-morrow,"

When Hank Rollof appeared the next day, the little child was no better-nor the day after; so, indeed for three or four days. Then the gambler insisted upon entering the tent and found her stretched motionless and almost insensible upon the little pile of blankets, her face flushed and her pulse quick.

66

in appearance, and undecided in opinion; most probably he had failed in practice in the East, and gone as ship surgeon upon some outward bound vessel, working his way out to California for little besides his passage. Examining the child, he pronounced it a case of fever--that could easily be seen-but of what character he did not seem to know, and therefore as to that wisely kept silence. But a poor doctor, unless he is very bad, is better than none. This man was attentive, and in the main, cautious; and naturally knew certain leading rules of regimen, applicable to almost all sicknesses, regarding food, cleanliness, and ventilation. Perhaps he did all that the most able physician might have done; from the very first it might have been a case beyond mortal control. It is hard to conceive that under the circumstances of such long continued hardship, privation, and isolation, any disease of a serious nature could have been mastered. Whatever the facts of the case, the seemingly unavoidable termination came. On the fifth day, little Meg died; falling into a stupor and never again awakening.

Hank Rollof was the first to hear it. The doctor happened to be away; and Rollof found Little Biddeford sitting outside the

"There is no doctor in the settlement," the other rejoined. "And if there were, how could I afford-"

"Afford be hanged!" interrupted Rollof. "I will see to that."

He made an inquiry at once and found it was true that there was not a physician in the mine. But it was said that there was a doctor at the Elk Diggings, some five or six miles off. Thereupon Hank Rollof borrowed a horse, rode over, and in three or four hours returned with a doctor. Not a very able physician, of course. Men eminent in their profession did not leave home, and journey out to the outskirts for their practice. This man was young, unengaging

from habit, perhaps, than any other reason, still mending the little frock that never could be worn again.

"She is asleep," he whispered. "Don't wake her; it may be the turning point." "How long has she slept?"

"Three or four hours. She may awake very soon now."

Cautiously the other opened the tent flap and peeped within. A single glance showed him the real state of the case. He dropped the canvas again, and stood erect outside, thinking for a moment how he could break the news.

"She won't ever wake again, old man," he said; and he believed he was managing it with great dexterity. Certainly there was

a kind of tender, sympathetic utterance in his voice that scarcely could be expected of him, and perhaps had not been heard for years, if even before. "You must try to take it like any other hard luck;-as it comes."

ment.

The news soon spread through the settleIt was too much to say that there were manifestations of sympathy, and even of sorrow among the miners. Most of them had not in any way made acquaintance with Little Biddeford, but almost all had learned to watch for his daily slow passage across the plain to his own mining ground; limping toilsomely along, with Meg trotting at his side, or else, as sometimes happened, perched on her father's shoulder. It was as though a feature of the landscape would now be wanting; as though the dawning civilization had taken its flight, and might not again appear among them for years. And back of all that was the tender feeling of sympathy for the father, and wonderment what he would now do, and a disposition to put their hands deep down in their pockets and help him, if anyhow it could be managed. There was a cessation of work for a time, as the word passed from one to the other that little Meg was dead; and it seemed that towards the end of the day, all labor ended a little earlier than usual; and the miners congregated in knots about the plain and at the natural centers, discussing what must be now done.

The child must of course be buried, and they could not leave the matter entirely to the father, who sat stupefied with grief, and might not easily be moved to action. Others must take the thing into their hands, and do all that was needful. Three or four of the leading and most influential miners therefore were pushed to the front, and proceeded at once to make all the necessary preparations for the funeral.

in that council would be looked upon as a liberty and an intrusion, and so he stepped aside out of the general notice, and without waiting any hint to do so. It may be that

he felt at heart a little sore that he who had been such a friend and help to the child for the past month should now be put aside, while those who had only looked upon her from a distance were called upon to assist; and perhaps this was one of the times when he felt most heavily, as it must be presumed he sometimes felt, the ignominy of his calling, preventing him from engaging in even the most kindly offices for another. If so, he concealed his dissatisfaction and kept aloof from any attempt at interference with what was going on, merely watching from afar, and standing ready to do what he could in helping any measure for pecuniary relief. Possibly even that satisfaction might

not be allowed him.

Almost a hundred feet to the right of Little Biddeford's tent was a small grove of well grown pines. There were ten or twelve trees, standing some distance apart, so as to make an open glade, rather than a compact piece of forest. The place was outside the limits of the gold fields, and at the foot of the slope of mountain land. At one side ran a thin stream, and there were wild flowers growing upon its banks. Altogether it was a very pretty spot, and here the committee of the miners dug a little grave, lining it with fir brances. Then they went to Little Biddeford and told him what they had done, asking him to come with them and look at the spot, to the end that he might give his approval. They did not doubt that he would do so; there was nothing different that he could suggest-it was merely a matter of form and delicacy to ask him. But when they aroused him from his lethargy of grief and told him what they had. come about, he shook his head.

at each other, never having heard the story that he had once told to Hank Rollof. And now, being urged, he told it over again, very much in the same words, and with better effect-though of course not seeking effect-since the circumstances had such an immediate and mournful bearing upon the subject.

"Only five miles away, through the hills it seems almost as if I could see the place--and she would be so lonely if Meg were not laid by her side."

"But can you find the spot, Biddeford?"

Why not? Such a little distance--I marked the shape of the hills at the time. Not that I ever expected to go back to it, but I thought I might in that way remember the place for the rest of my life. There were seven stones on the grave--they make a cross, you see; and-and-little Meg, too, would be so lonely here, away from her mother."

This was the burden of his talk-the loneliness of the mother and child, buried so far apart. The other men looked inquiringly at each other. What had appeared to them at first an unnecessary piece of sentiment, somehow, as he went on and they had no more time to think it over, now began to seem more natural, and even becomingly so.

tions, and in an hour, all was ready. The news of course had gone around, and it seemed as though all the miners had gathered to observe the departure of the little cavalcade. There were four men on horseback, and as the trail through the plain was a narrow one, they rode in single file. Little Biddeford was in front; and across the saddle, supported by his arm, lay the small bundle tightly swaddled, all that was now left of what had been a living child. The father would not allow anyone but himself to touch it, resolving to the last to let no hand except his carry it, and himself at the end place it in the grave besides its mother. Two of the men who followed bore picks and spades, and the last a small coffin, that had been hastily put together within the hour.

The miners gathered from far and near, standing in some places close to the trail, and taking off their hats, or what served as such, while the procession passed; then for a few minutes watching and looking curiously after it until it had threaded its way between the hills and so crept out of sight. There was some discussion as to when it would return; but it was conceded that if all went well, the early afternoon would see the whole matter finished. There was more vigorous debate as to how successful the expedition

You will not hinder me?"

He spoke imploringly, as though fearing they might look upon his intent as a wild or foolish one, to be combated by them and perhaps altogether prevented. But if at first they had any such idea, the impulse to it was already past.

"Of course you can go. Why should you not, if you wish? What right would we have to prevent you? And see here! Wouldn't you like to have some of us go with you, to help you, and company-like, as well?"

"If you will do so."

So they went to work with their prepara

together fail in finding the place sought for, and would come back again bringing the child still unburied. And, indeed, it was admitted by all that there is nothing more deceptive than a supposed knowledge of localities, and that cases were frequent wherein identification of places even a mile or two away fails, in conseqnence of similarity of natural features perpetually recurring to confuse the recollection of a searcher. But, on the other hand, Little Biddeford had professed himself so certain, and had taken such accurate note of the different landmarks; and upon the whole, it was scarcely worth while discussing the matter at all,

the question. So the little groups dispersed and some of the miners went to work again and tried to forget all about it. But the greater portion, having had their time already so broken in upon, remained away from their places of labor, strolling around listlessly from tent to tent, in idle gossip upon the great event of the day; and it was noticed that as the afternoon wore on, the others returned somewhat earlier than usual from their claims, one after another straggling in, until in a little while very few continued

absent.

Six hours ran on and the party had not returned. Some of the miners began to express anxiety, but there was really nothing to be troubled about. Talk about Indian attack seemed foolish, for there were no Indian tribes in the neighborhood, except of the most peaceful description. That the party could have lost its way was equally improbable, for the attendant escort was composed of men who were experienced in prospecting, and knew very well what they were about; and even if they became bewildered, something must be allowed to the instinct of their animals, which could easily work back upon their own trail. Probably there had been more delay in finding the desired location than had been anticipated, that was all.

The sun sank, the shades of night gathered, camp fires were lighted, and here and there large tents, faintly glowing with candle light, showed where the few centres of trade were ready to receive their votaries, Groups gathered here and there, and song and revelry claimed their place. For the great event of the day was over, seemingly, the funeral a thing of the past; the natural buoyancy and life of strong men must have its vent. Sobriety and decorousness for the day, but when the work of the day was over, why not give place to mirth?

At one side of the plain there was a tent larger and more brilliantly lighted than any

Rollof. He had closed up his place ot business during the day, in deference to the mournfulness of the occasion, showing thereby a thoughtful consideration which had perhaps never before governed him, and which would very likely have surprised even himself, if he had stopped to think it over. But now night had come, and the patrons of the establishment were waiting and eager for their ruin, and their desire must be respected. So the roulette ball flew pleasantly around, skipping dancingly into its receptacle, and the oath of those who lost was often agreeably intermingled with the cheery laugh of those who won ; only Hank Rollof, who naturally in the long run won the most, sitting as usual, calm and imperturbable, of all that gathering being the one who neither frowned nor smiled; and so on, until

How it came about, no one knew. Even the subsequent examination failed to elicit the real truth of the matter. Of course there was a quarrel--that was evident of itself; but in the confusion each one seemed to have seen a different phase of it and in perfect sincerity told a story somewhat varying from the stories of all the other men.

That

is to say, who began the quarrel or exactly what was said, or even who said it, could never satisfactorily be known. All that was certain was the fact that there had been a dispute about whether the ball had fallen into the red or black, and a hurried clutching on both sides after the money on the board, and an oath or two, and a mutual grasping of throats by two angry men, and a blow. Then came the pistol shot, and Hank Rollof had staggered out into the open air, past the little crowd that, terror stricken, made hasty way for him, and had fallen lifeless upon the trodden ground outside.

It was soon over. A gasp and a moan, in which might be traced an ineffectual attempt to say something--perhaps a prayer

and Hank Rollof turned over on his back, with his open eyes glaring up at the moonstark dead. In that matter his great bulk and powerful strength had been of no use to him; the little pistol, not larger than a forefinger, had more than equalized the difference between himself and one who scarcely reached his shoulder. It was a fate that was sure to overtake him some day; the time had now chanced to come. What else would you have, or what more was there to be said?

While the miners stood in a close and ever increasing crowd about the inanimate clay, wondering what then should be done, and for the moment waiting for some bolder and more collected spirit among them to arouse and take the initiative, the dull sound of hoofs came upon the outside of the throng, and it was seen that the funeral cavalcade had returned. In front, as before, rode Little Biddeford, and, as before, he held in his arms the small, closely swaddled form that had been his all in all. The expedition had failed. As had been forecasted by so many of the miners, the identification of the one lonely grave among the hills had proved impossible, when put to the test of trial; and after long wandering through those hills, so much alike, the men had been compelled with the approach of night to order a return.

So now they rode up, Little Biddeford still at the head, bearing his small, motion

less burden. the crowd he dismounted and crept slowly up; then gaining from the few words around him a hint of what had happened, he pushed forward, as though he would seek the center of the throng. Wondering they made way for him, and in a moment more, his dead treasure still in his arms, he stood looking down upon Hank Rollof.

And coming to the edge of

"Who did it ?" he whispered.

"We don't know," one answered. "That is, we are supposed not to know until it is examined into. Of course we all do know, in fact, and likely as not it will turn out that it was the proper thing to do under the circumstances. That's to be found out, to-morrow. Least said now, the better. The thing to be attended to at present is to see about burying this man, and so have done with him."

Little Biddeford stooped down and gazed into the gambler's face, almost lovingly, it seemed; then passed his hand over the broad brow, softly smoothing down the tangled hair.

Will Robert Williams.