he stranger said:

"We 'ad a dirty trip hup. The mud's no respecter h'of an H'english
gentleman nor h'an American millionaire, don'cher know?" and the
pompous Mr. Devonshire handed his hand-grip to Job, while he poked out
his shoes for the gray-haired lackey to wipe, with an--

"'Ere, you, clean these feet, bloomin' quick!"

Job and Tony obeyed, but a significant look passed between them.

The next few days things went lively at the Pine Tree Ranch. Some of
the mill men were ordered off to scour the mountains for deer, a new
Chinese cook came up from Gold City, and the old man and the
"H'english gentleman," as Tony called him with a contemptuous chuckle,
mounted horses and went riding over the ranch and down to the mine. It
took all the grace Job had to see the arrogant boor, with his two
hundred and fifty avoirdupois, get Tony to help him mount Bess, and,
poking her in the ribs, call out, "What a bloomin' 'orse! Cawn't h'it
go!" and ride off toward Lookout Point.

It was astonishing, the politeness Andrew Malden assumed; how he
overlooked all the gruffness of his guest and treated him like a
prince. Job fairly stared in wonder. It capped the climax when one
night--just as, tucked up snug in his bed, Job was dreaming of his
last walk home from school with Jane--to feel a rude shake and to see
Andrew Malden with excited face standing over him, saying:

"Jump, boy! Dress quick and saddle Bess and ride with all your might
to Gold City and catch Joe before the stage leaves. Take this
telegram, and tell him to send it as soon as he gets to the plains and
Wheatland Depot! Here, up with you!"

It was not over fifteen minutes after that Job was galloping away on
Bess' back in the cold, night air, over the muddy roads, stiffened
somewhat in the frosty spring night, and lit only by the dim
starlight. It was a wild ride, a ride that sent a chill to his very
marrow; and if it had not been for his ever-present trust in God, it
would have struck terror to his heart. It seemed as if it grew darker
and darker. The clouds were creeping across the stars, the great trees
hung like a drapery of gloom over the roadway. Faster and faster he
rode. Now he soothed Bess as she shied at some suspicious rock that
glistened with unmelted snow, or some crackle in the bushes that broke
the stillness of the night air; then he urged her on till down the
steep Frost Creek road she fairly flew.

It was at the dim hour of dawn, and out of the glo