little child, he
shall not enter therein. * * * We do sign him with the sign of the cross
in token hereafter that he shall manfully fight against the sin, the
world, and the devil; and to continue Christ's faithful soldier unto
his life's end." So, the child starting on his earthly journey with the
minister's blessing and the backing of twenty god-fathers!

The holy old church service which he had heard at home in stately
English cathedrals--the nuggets in the contribution plate--the radiant
bride who had come across the plains to hear "Dearly Beloved, We are
gathered together," standing beside the man she loved. The service for
the dying: "When we shall have served thee in our generation we may be
gathered unto our Fathers, having the testimony of a good conscience,
the confidence of a certain faith, in favor with Thee our God, and in
perfect charity with the world." So, Jim Muldoon, cut down before his
time, and his slayer out there in the darkness on the end of a rope.

The dying candle picked out in flame a withered cabbage rose under the
table; a baby's mitten, the letter written for the man who had died, the
Mexican's sombrero on a chair, the gilt sun and moon and stars on the
glass face of the grandfather clock by the window.

Duncan's head fell forward in his clasped arms on the table, and in his
dreams he heard the huntsman's silver horn from across the seas calling
him home to carry on the destiny of the ancient and honorable name which
was his. His "strike of pay ore" in his "land of gold."

The candle wick in a shallow pool of tallow flared high, and went out.

The old clock chimed twelve.

The Tom Bell Stronghold

II

"You smile, O poet, and what do you?
You lean from your window and watch life's column
Trampling and struggling through dust and dew,
Filled with its purposes grave and solemn;
An act, a gesture, a face--who knows?
And you pluck from your bosom the verse that grows,
And down it flies like my red, red rose,
And you sit and dream as away it goes,
And think that your duty is done--now, don't you?"

--Bret Harte.

In the early days it was called the Mountaineer House. Now it is
colloquially known as the "stone house," and has for sixty years been
the home of the Owen King family. It is surrounded today by one of the
most beautiful orchards in the foothills. Wide verandahs of the native
gray granite to match the old house itsel