who had seen
him, were eagerly questioned; but they could tell nothing that she did
not know, save that they were quite sure that it was Jim, and not some
other unfortunate, whom they had seen.

They gave a stupid assent when asked by Marian to secure him and bring
him into town the next time that they saw him; and a "Si, Senor,"
considerably less stupid in a subsequent private interview with Jack,
who promised them "heap money" for their labor.

Marian had the books which Jim had left in the cabin: commonplace Greek
and Latin books, which might have belonged to anybody, save that on one
fly leaf was written in a scrawling hand, "J. C. Wilmer," and this
yellow page, and this faded ink, she covered with her kisses and
baptized with her tears. And another weary week crept by.

The Doctor noticed with disapprobation strongly expressed how pale and
worn-looking the pretty woman grew. Not professionally; indeed, his
title was merely honorary, bestowed in recognition of his services in
prescribing the "Golden Anti-bilious Pills" for Bob Jinks, which, or
nature in spite of them, had effected a cure, and restored to bereft
Mariposa society an efficient and valuable member.

The Doctor's interest afforded considerable amusement to the habitues
of the "Grand" bar-room, and they fairly roared with sympathy when he
profanely expressed his sorrow to see her wasting her beauty in tears
over "another feller."

One Saturday night, two weeks and a day since Marian's arrival, the
whole population of the town were at the Grand, either drinking,
gambling, or purchasing provisions of Cutey's deputy, who presided over
the tin can department with activity and grace; and all, whatever their
occupation, were swearing vigorously and unceasingly.

Marian sat up stairs in her tiny room burning with feverish anxiety.
Her long years of home-waiting, the comfortless journey, even the first
week of uncertainty, had been easier to bear than this anxious waiting.
The Mexicans had not hesitated to say that he must be dead by this
time; but _that_ she did not believe; he might be starving, crazed,
nearly dead, but surely she might see him once more and hear him say
that he forgave her; perhaps even nurse him back to reason and health
and hope again.

The brawling and laughter down stairs made her shudder. "If I was only
a man!" she whispered fiercely, clenching her little hands. "Can I do
_nothing_ but sit here and wait? Oh, God, be merciful!" she