f she had rested, and at whose table she
had sat" (this was considered a natural but pardonable exaggeration of
rhetoric) "ever threw off on her; and it sha'n't be done. It ain't the
square thing to Five Forks." And then the "Fool" would rush away to the
valley, and be received by Miss Milly with a certain reserve of manner
that finally disappeared in a flush of color, some increased vivacity,
and a pardonable coquetry. And so the days passed. Miss Milly grew
better in health, and more troubled in mind; and Mr. Hawkins became more
and more embarrassed; and Five Forks smiled, and rubbed its hands,
and waited for the approaching denoument. And then it came--but not,
perhaps, in the manner that Five Forks had imagined.

It was a lovely afternoon in July that a party of Eastern tourists rode
into Five Forks. They had just "done" the Valley of Big Things; and,
there being one or two Eastern capitalists among the party, it
was deemed advisable that a proper knowledge of the practical
mining-resources of California should be added to their experience
of the merely picturesque in Nature. Thus far every thing had been
satisfactory; the amount of water which passed over the Fall was large,
owing to a backward season; some snow still remained in the canyons near
the highest peaks; they had ridden round one of the biggest trees, and
through the prostrate trunk of another. To say that they were delighted
is to express feebly the enthusiasm of these ladies and gentlemen, drunk
with the champagny hospitality of their entertainers, the utter novelty
of scene, and the dry, exhilarating air of the valley. One or two had
already expressed themselves ready to live and die there; another had
written a glowing account to the Eastern press, depreciating all other
scenery in Europe and America; and, under these circumstances, it was
reasonably expected that Five Forks would do its duty, and equally
impress the stranger after its own fashion.

Letters to this effect were sent from San Francisco by prominent
capitalists there; and, under the able superintendence of one of their
agents, the visitors were taken in hand, shown "what was to be seen,"
carefully restrained from observing what ought not to be visible, and so
kept in a blissful and enthusiastic condition. And so the graveyard of
Five Forks, in which but two of the occupants had died natural deaths;
the dreary, ragged cabins on the hillsides, with their sad-eyed,
cynical, broken-spirite