d vicy-versy. But, Gabriella, do,
for goodness' sake, just fetch out that queer kind of stick that old
Indian made a sort of graven image of and show it to Mr. Ma'sh. It's a
curiosity, being so old, if it ain't no more. Worth cherishin',
anyhow, 'count of him that give it. I always did admire keepsakes of
the departed."

Mrs. Trent smiled, though sadly, and Jessica asked:

"May I get it, mother?"

"Surely. For safety I put it on the top of the tallest bookcase,
behind the files of newspapers. You'll likely have to take the little
library ladder to reach it; and when you've shown it, put it back in
exactly the same spot. It's doubly valuable now, and could not be
replaced."

The little captain had scarcely once relinquished the hand of her
beloved sharpshooter, since he appeared before them all, and now led
him, as if he were another happy playmate, to the designated place.
But when she had reached it, mounted the ladder and carefully felt all
over the top of the case, even moving the files in order to examine it
the better, she could not find the metal-pointed staff.

Standing on the floor beneath, Ephraim watched her face growing sober
and disappointed, as she exclaimed:

"It's gone! It's completely gone!"

"It has, dearie? Well, maybe your mother forgot and put it somewhere
else. The likeliest thing in the world to happen, with her mind so
upset as it has been. We'll go back and ask her. Don't fret. Probably
it wasn't of much account, anyway."

"Oh! but, dear Ephraim, it was! It could point the way to our big
fortune that's to be dug out of the ground!"

"What? What is that you say, child? Nonsense. We don't live in the
days of witchcraft, and that's what such a performance would mean."

Yet when they had returned to Mrs. Trent and related their misadventure
he was startled by hearing that sensible woman tragically exclaim, in
contradiction to his own assertion:

"Lost! Then Sobrante is certainly bewitched!"

CHAPTER XII.

THE REBELLION OF THE LADS

"Thank my stars, I haven't lost my faculty of doing two things to
once, nor seein' a dozen!" cried Aunt Sally, as if in response to Mrs.
Trent's exclamation. Then she rose so hastily that her beloved
"pieces" fell on the floor and her spectacles slid from the end of her
nose, their habitual resting place. "There never was witches on this
ranch before, and I reckon I can deal with a few of them that's here
now. Edward Trent, Luis Garcia! Where you