"Where might you be going?"

"I am on my way to the city. Am I on the right track?"

"I reckon so."

"Do you live here--alone?" asked John Miles, in some curiosity.

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" returned the woman. "I've been alone
since my man pegged out."

"Is that long?"

"A matter of three weeks."

"I sympathize with you," said Miles. "You must be very lonely."

"Yes," said the widow. "Jim was good company, and I feel kind of
lonesome without him, you better believe."

"There isn't much sentiment there," thought Miles. "She doesn't appear
to be heart-broken. Do you mean to stay here alone?" he inquired. "Are
you not afraid?"

"What's there to be afraid of?"

"Some tramp or adventurer might attack and injure, or at least rob you."

"Look here, stranger! do you see that?" and the woman produced a
revolver. "Do you see that shooting-iron?"

"It looks as if it might be a good one," said Miles, who began to think
the woman better able to take care of herself than he had at first
supposed.

"You bet it is! I know how to use it, too. If one of them tramps gets in
front of it, and sasses me, he'd better say his prayers mighty quick,
for he'll need 'em. He needn't reckon much on my being a woman. I can
shoot jest as true as my man could when he was alive."

CHAPTER X.

A CALIFORNIA WIDOW.

John Miles eyed the woman curiously. There did not seem much that was
feminine left in her. Life in the wilderness had made her as bold and
self-reliant as a man. She was not compelled to plead for woman's
rights. She resolutely took a man's rights, and was prepared to
maintain them against all comers.

"I rather think you can take care of yourself, ma'am," he said.

"You can bet your bottom dollar on that, stranger," said the woman,
cheerfully. "Brown--that's my husband--knew what I was. We was ekal
partners--Brown and me--and he knew too much to tread on me."

"I'm glad I wasn't Brown," thought John Miles. "When I marry, it'll be a
woman, and not a man in petticoats."

"If you're hungry, stranger," said the woman, "just jump off that horse
of yours, and come in. I can give you a square meal, and I reckon you
haven't had one lately."

"You are right, Mrs. Brown," said Miles, dismounting with alacrity. "My
provisions are dry and stale, and I shall enjoy a square meal amazingly.
But I ought to tell you that last night I was robbed of a bag of
gold-dust, and I have nothing to pay you."

"Who asks for