ht of miners' inches. His father had taught him the love of
books, but there had been so few to love. He had taught him to think.
Hiram was weird, queer, a "leetle cracked" to the others of Bear
Valley. Uncle Sebastian alone had understood him--had sympathized with
him and helped him.

Now, though, it was over. He was leaving forever. One hundred
dollars! He had never possessed so much in his twenty-six starved
years! An exultation seized him which beat throbbingly in his temples
and fired his soul with recklessness. He was bound out into the Great
Unknown, where the promises of his dreams would be fulfilled. He would
do great things, live great adventures, then come back to scoff at them!

He sprang to his feet, collected the backless magazines, and climbed
the bank. With long strides he hurried along the bark road which wound
round the contour of the hills. An hour later he was trotting down a
manzanita slope to his cabin, nestled in the cup of the hills,
surrounded by the whispering firs.

Just within he paused and looked about as if seeing the sordidness of
his home for the first time. All the way up the hill the exultation of
impending departure had thrilled him. It thrilled him still, and a new
feeling of contempt of what he saw came over him.

A panther skin hung on the rough, unpainted wall above the black and
cheerless fireplace, three sets of antlers surrounding it. Near the
fireplace lay an unsightly pile of wood and chips. The doors of the
cracked and rusty stove were gaping wide. The remains of his breakfast
were on the clothless, homemade table. His rifle, the only thing well
kept, stood in a corner.

He passed through into the other room, separated from this by a thin
board partition. There, in oval walnut frames, hung the pictures of
the two who lay between the big bull pines on Wild-cat Hill. A slight
sense of depression seized him. The bed unmade, brought a sparkle of
anger to his eyes. He was disgusted with himself, but it did not last.
The thought of the adventures that lay beyond and beckoned came
uppermost once more. "The girl" beckoned, too.

Yes, there was a girl. Hiram had seen her only in his dreams. She was
not like Bear Valley girls. She was large and sturdy and strong, and
her hair was of such dark brown as to seem almost black, her eyes dark
and large and lustrous. She was a queen among women, this girl of his
dreams. About her hung some great mystery, and a