all road, one mile east of
Wawona. The southern hills had echoed back its sweet, lingering notes.
The blue-coats had turned in. The officer of the guard was inspecting
the sentries, when the guard on Post Number Four saw a haggard,
white-faced young fellow, with hat gone, clothes torn, hands bleeding
from scratches, pull himself up the bank of the creek, and at the
sentry's "Halt!" look up with anxious appeal and ask for the captain.

That instinct which is sometimes quicker than thought told the guard
this was no ordinary case. In two minutes the corporal was escorting
Job to the headquarters tent. What a dilapidated object he was! For
twenty long hours he had been working his way over the rear of Pine
Mountain, down the steep sides of the Gulch, up that terrible jungle
which even the red man avoids, over the great boulders and falls of
the South Fork, and up the long miles through the primeval wilderness
to where he knew the white tents of Camp Sheridan lay.

The captain could hardly believe Job's story. The officers marveled at
the heroism of the boy. But he told it all without consciousness of
self, begged them for God's sake to lose no time, and fell over limp
and faint at the captain's feet.

When he came to, it was dawn, the troops were in the saddle, and the
sergeant was reading this telegram:

"Proceed at once to the Yellow Jacket Mine and quell the riot
and disorder. LAMONT."

The horses were pawing the ground, the quartermaster was hurrying to
and fro, the captain was buckling on his saber, and Job was lying on a
cot in the surgeon's tent, while that good man was feeling his pulse.

Quick as he could, Job started up. "Are they off?" he cried.

"Yes, my boy; and you lie still. They'll settle those fellows over at
the mine," was the reply.

"But, doctor, I must go! I promised Rooney! Let me go!"

"No, young man. You're plucky, but pluck won't do any more. A day or
two here will fix you all right. Your pulse has been up to a hundred
and four. You can't stir to-day."

Job was desperate. The bugle was sounding, the officers were shouting
orders. Through the door of the tent and the grove of trees he could
see troops forming.

"Send for the captain, doctor, please," he pleaded.

The captain came, heard Job's story, and shook his head.

Job was half frantic. What would Pat Rooney say? He begged the doctor
with tears in his eyes. He beseeched the captain. At last they
yielded. But how could