d beneath.

A few minutes later and all the solemnity of his soul and the beauty
of the forests was sadly interrupted as he rode round a curve and came
out at the junction of the Signal Point and the Yosemite toll-road.

There stood, or lay rather, half on its side, a rickety, old
two-seated structure shaded by white canvas supported by four
rough-hewn posts. It leaned far to the side on one wheel and a
splintered hub. Down the hill a broken wheel was bounding; while, on
the dusty road, four women--one tall and angular in a yellow duster,
one little and weazened, arrayed in a prim gray traveling suit, a
weeping maiden of uncertain age, and a portly dame of ponderous
proportions, dressed not in a duster but a very dusty black silk--were
pulling themselves up. Near by three little tots were howling
vigorously, yet making no impression on the poor, lone, lank white
mare which stood stock still in the shafts, with a contented air that
showed an immense satisfaction in the privilege of one good stop.

"Mary Jane, this is awful! Every bone in me is cracked and this silk
dress is ruined--yes, is ruined! I tell yer it ain't fit for Mirandy's
little gal's doll! And my! I know my heart is broken, too; I can hear
it rattle! I'll never come with you and that horrid runaway horse
again!"

The poor horse flapped her ears as if in appreciation of this last
remark, while Mary Jane, rising up like a yellow-draped beanpole,
retorted in a shrill voice:

"Aunt Eliza, ain't you ashamed to be deriding me, a poor lone widder
with three helpless children! I hope ye are cracked--cracked bad!
Horse, humph! I guess my horse is the likeliest in Grizzly county! Yer
know yer made all the trouble; any decent wheel would give way when it
had a square mile of bones and stuffin's and silk above it!"

"Now, sister Mary and Aunt Eliza," spoke up, in a thin, metallic
voice, that of the diminutive dame in gray, as she adjusted her bonnet
strings, "let us not grow unduly aggravated at the disconcerting
providence which has overwhelmed us in the journey of life. There are
compensating circumstances which should alleviate our sorrow. Our
lives are spared, and the immeasurable forests are undisturbed by the
trifling event which has overtaken us poor, insignificant creatures,
whose--"

"Insignificant!" roared Aunt Eliza, "I guess I ain't insignificant! I
own twenty town lots down in Almedy, as purty as yer ever saw.
Insignificant! I--the mother of ten c