ful; there was no lovelier spot in all of California.

"Hello, Hiram!" Sebastian Burris called at last.

The youth started perceptibly and sat up. He turned his head over his
left shoulder. Big, bulging blue eyes laughed back at Sebastian. The
good-naturedly twisted mouth that grinned at him was suggestive of a
sluggish drawl. The long legs twined themselves, and Hiram Hooker
flopped over on his stomach, facing his friend.

"Why, hello, Uncle Sebastian!" he cried in a tone which bore true
welcome. "What're you doin' 'way up here? Come on down an' look at
the young trout!"

Without remark, Uncle Sebastian, grasping roots and low-hanging
branches, clambered stiffly down the bank. He sat down by the side of
Hiram Hooker and glanced at three old, dirty backless magazines that
lay on the pebbles and smiled.

"Ain't seen ye down to th' store at stage time in I dunno when, Hiram,"
he remarked, surveying the handsome young Hercules with admiration.

Hiram skimmed a flat piece of slate across a riffle.

"I never get any mail, Uncle Sebastian," he drawled.

"They's a heap o' us don't go to Bixler's fer th' mail, Hiram."

"Heaven knows there's nothin' else to take me there," and there was
just a shade of bitterness in the twist of Hiram's good-natured mouth.

In place of tossing pebbles, Uncle Sebastian chose to pick up a redwood
splinter on which to whittle. He took out a slick-handled jackknife,
blew a clot of pocket lint from the springs, opened a whetted pruning
blade, and began shaving the brittle wood. His watery blue eyes were
far-off and thoughtful.

"Jest come from there," he resumed. "We was talkin' about ye down
there, Hiram. Put me in mind to come up an' see ye. Hiram, ye ain't
any too popular in Bear Valley--d'ye know it?"

"You know I do," promptly replied Hiram.

"D'ye know what they're sayin' agin' ye?" Uncle Sebastian continued
after a long pause.

"Don't know as I'm carin'."

"Yes, ye are, Hiram," said Uncle Sebastian positively. "Don't tell me
that. Ye c'n tell yerself ye don't keer, Hiram, but ye're lyin' to
yerself. It ain't in human nature not to keer what folks thinks about
a fella. Gosh! where'd we be if it wasn't so?"

Hiram flipped a pebble. "I reckon you're right, Uncle Sebastian, and I
reckon I know you're aimin' at somethin'. You came 'way up here to
spring somethin' on me, didn't you? Well, le's have it."

"Ye're right, Hiram--I did. In the first place, then, th