lips, and she resting
here inactive, until she half started from her bed
to go to his succor. And this went on until a
pale opal glow came into the sky, followed by a still
paler pink on the summit of the white Sierras, when
she rose and hurriedly began to dress. Still
so sanguine was her hope of meeting him, that she
lingered yet a moment to select the brown holland skirt
and yellow sunbonnet she had worn when she first saw
him. And she had only seen him twice! Only
twice! It would be cruel, too cruel, not
to see him again!

She crept softly down the stairs, listening to the
long-drawn breathing of her father in his bedroom,
and then, by the light of a guttering candle, scrawled
a note to him, begging him not to trust himself out
of thehouse until she returned from her search, and
leaving the note open on the table, swiftly ran out
into the growing day.

Three hours afterwards Mr. Madison Clay awoke to the
sound of loud knocking. At first this forced
itself upon his consciousness as his daughter’s
regular morning summons, and was responded to by a
grunt of recognition and a nestling closer in the
blankets. Then he awoke with a start and a muttered
oath, remembering the events of last night, and his
intention to get up early, and rolled out of bed.
Becoming aware by this time that the knocking was
at the outer door, and hearing the shout of a familiar
voice, he hastily pulled on his boots, his jean trousers,
and fastening a single suspender over his shoulder
as he clattered downstairs, stood in the lower room.
The door was open,