is is a cold world, Mrs. Brown. I've been drifting about till I'm
tired. I'd like to settle down with a good wife."

"If you want to take Brown's place, say so," remarked the widow, in a
business-like tone.

Bill Crane was staggered by the promptness with which his hint was
taken, but did not hesitate to follow it up.

"That's what I mean," he said.

"What's your name, stranger?"

"William Crane."

"You haven't got another wife anywhere, have you?"

"Of course not."

"I've got to take your word for it, I s'pose. I guess I'll take the
risk. I'll marry you if you say so."

"How soon?" asked Crane, eagerly.

"Well, there's a parson a few miles from here. We can ride right over
and be back by sundown, if that will suit you."

"A capital idea, Mrs. Brown. You won't be Brown long," he added,
sportively. "How will you like to be called Mrs. Crane?"

"One name will do as well as another," said the widow, philosophically.

Crane wanted to make inquiries about the five thousand dollars and the
claim; but he reflected that it might be inferred that his views were
mercenary. It would be more politic to wait till after marriage. He did
not understand the character of the woman he was going to marry. She
understood very well that Crane was marrying her for her money; but she
felt lonesome, and it suited her to have a husband, and she was willing
to overlook such a trifle.

The widow had a horse of her own. Directly after dinner it was
harnessed, and the two rode over to Dirt Hole, a small mining
settlement, where the Rev. Pelatiah Pond, a Methodist minister, united
them in the bonds of matrimony.

When Mr. and Mrs. Crane reached home, Bill ventured to inquire, "Have
you got the money in the house, Mrs. Crane,--the five thousand dollars,
I mean?"

"It's put away in a safe place."

"You'd better let me take care of it for you, my dear."

"Not at present, Mr. Crane. A year from now I will let you have half of
it, if you behave yourself."

"As your husband, madam, I insist."

"Stop right there, stranger--Mr. Crane, I mean," said the bride,
decidedly. "Do you see that? and she whipped out a revolver.

"Good gracious, Mrs. Crane! Do you want to murder me?"

"No, I didn't marry you for that; but I want you to understand that the
money is in my hands, and I don't allow any man to insist. I may let you
have some of it when I get ready. Do you understand?"

"I believe I do," murmured Crane. "I'm regularly taken in