e before him and we rode away among
the knights. He held me close and I went to sleep that way, and didn't
wake up till I got home."

"Rubbish!" cried Fritz Bergmann. "Fairy tales! How did you come from
the quarries to my wagon?"

"The Prince brought me," said Lena, confidently.

And to this day the good people of Fredericksburg haven't been able to
make her give any other explanation.

XIX

THE REFORMATION OF CALLIOPE

Calliope Catesby was in his humours again. Ennui was upon him. This
goodly promontory, the earth--particularly that portion of it known
as Quicksand--was to him no more than a pestilent congregation of
vapours. Overtaken by the megrims [114], the philosopher may seek
relief in soliloquy; my lady find solace in tears; the flaccid
Easterner scold at the millinery bills of his women folk. Such
recourse was insufficient to the denizens of Quicksand. Calliope,
especially, was wont to express his ennui according to his lights.

[FOOTNOTE 114: megrims--depression, unhappiness]

Over night Calliope had hung out signals of approaching low spirits.
He had kicked his own dog on the porch of the Occidental Hotel, and
refused to apologise. He had become capricious and fault-finding in
conversation. While strolling about he reached often for twigs of
mesquite and chewed the leaves fiercely. That was always an ominous
act. Another symptom alarming to those who were familiar with the
different stages of his doldrums was his increasing politeness and a
tendency to use formal phrases. A husky softness succeeded the usual
penetrating drawl in his tones. A dangerous courtesy marked his
manners. Later, his smile became crooked, the left side of his mouth
slanting upward, and Quicksand got ready to stand from under.

At this stage Calliope generally began to drink. Finally, about
midnight, he was seen going homeward, saluting those whom he met with
exaggerated but inoffensive courtesy. Not yet was Calliope's
melancholy at the danger point. He would seat himself at the window of
the room he occupied over Silvester's tonsorial parlours and there
chant lugubrious and tuneless ballads until morning, accompanying the
noises by appropriate maltreatment of a jangling guitar. More
magnanimous than Nero, he would thus give musical warning of the
forthcoming municipal upheaval that Quicksand was scheduled to endure.

A quiet, amiable man was Calliope Catesby at other times--quiet to
indolence, and amiable to w