; ye've got a friend
over ther--Judge Thompson--who is a friend to ye, right or wrong, jest
as any other man here is--as though ye'd packed your own jury. Well, the
simple question I've got to ask ye is THIS: Did you signal to anybody
from the coach when we passed Galloper's an hour ago?"

We all thought that Bill's courage and audacity had reached its
climax here. To openly and publicly accuse a "lady" before a group
of chivalrous Californians, and that lady possessing the further
attractions of youth, good looks, and innocence, was little short of
desperation. There was an evident movement of adhesion towards the
fair stranger, a slight muttering broke out on the right, but the very
boldness of the act held them in stupefied surprise. Judge Thompson,
with a bland propitiatory smile began: "Really, Bill, I must protest on
behalf of this young lady"--when the fair accused, raising her eyes to
her accuser, to the consternation of everybody answered with the slight
but convincing hesitation of conscientious truthfulness:--

"I DID."

"Ahem!" interposed the Judge hastily, "er--that is--er--you allowed
your handkerchief to flutter from the window,--I noticed it
myself,--casually--one might say even playfully--but without any
particular significance."

The girl, regarding her apologist with a singular mingling of pride and
impatience, returned briefly:--

"I signaled."

"Who did you signal to?" asked Bill gravely.

"The young gentleman I'm going to marry."

A start, followed by a slight titter from the younger passengers, was
instantly suppressed by a savage glance from Bill.

"What did you signal to him for?" he continued.

"To tell him I was here, and that it was all right," returned the young
girl, with a steadily rising pride and color.

"Wot was all right?" demanded Bill.

"That I wasn't followed, and that he could meet me on the road beyond
Cass's Ridge Station." She hesitated a moment, and then, with a still
greater pride, in which a youthful defiance was still mingled, said:

"I've run away from home to marry him. And I mean to! No one can stop
me. Dad didn't like him just because he was poor, and dad's got money.
Dad wanted me to marry a man I hate, and got a lot of dresses and things
to bribe me."

"And you're taking them in your trunk to the other feller?" said Bill
grimly.

"Yes, he's poor," returned the girl defiantly.

"Then your father's name is Mullins?" asked Bill.

"It's not Mullins.