of shepherd,
but I dared not give it to him," and she looked deprecatingly toward
the sharpshooter.

"No, she didn't," assented he. "She could trust that Old Century, but
she couldn't trust me."

There was greater bitterness in the tone than he had ever manifested
before his small captain, and she was quick to notice and resent it.

"Look here, you blessed old grumbler, you stop that, please. If not
'please,' stop it anyway, because I'm your commander. You know why,
and only why, my mother said 'no' to that bright scheme of yours."
Then she explained to Ninian, who was listening closely: "You must
understand that shepherding is the very loneliest thing that has to be
done on a ranch. The shepherd is alone from week to week; on some
ranches from month to month. He hasn't a soul to speak to save when
somebody chances to cross his field, which isn't often. A lot of men
go crazy, living that way, and mother has always been afraid for even
Pedro. I never was for him, though, 'cause he always liked it and had
lived so--well, forever. But naughty old 'Forty-niner' felt it would
be his 'duty' to go up there away from all of us, and mother wouldn't
let him, and so----"

"And so, my honored captain, you'll force me to be a mere hanger-on
and idler."

Jessica held up her forefinger, warningly. "That's enough, Ephraim. I
am 'She that must be obeyed,' Samson says, sometimes. And one of the
times is now. If you and mother aren't ashamed to disagree before my
dear Mr. Sharp, I'm ashamed to have you!"

All laughed and none took offense at this plain talk which, jesting
though it seemed, covered a serious meaning, and soon "Forty-niner"
remarked, as if to close the subject:

"Well, all's said and done; yet, still, I know if I'd been let to have
my way in this I'd have stopped a deal of mischief. It would be
better, seems to me, to have an old frontiersman living in Pedro's
cabin than a spook."

Mrs. Trent started, and, the guest fancied, shivered slightly. But she
rejoined, impatiently:

"Oh, Mr. Marsh! that nonsense again, and from you!"

"So they say, ma'am."

Cried Jessica gayly:

"The only thing Sobrante needed to make it as lovely as those old
English places one reads about in the story books was a 'ghost', and
now we've got it! Honest, and I do hope you'll see it for yourself. I
want to so much, and one night Samson and I chased it, but--it got
away. The 'boys' say now that it has even taken to horseback. Don't