ys a body should confess--confess it, feel sorry,
and be forgiven."

"I can't--I can't confess, and I can't be forgiven!"

John Logan starts!

"You--you, Carrie; is it you? Then you have already confessed, and He
will forgive you!"

"But such stealing as this nobody--nothing--can forgive," falling on her
knees. "I--I made my little brother steal your peaches!"

"You!--you made him steal my two peaches that I wanted for my sick
mother? You--_you_, Carrie?"

Stumps rushed forward.

"No--No! I done it myself! I done it all myself--I did, so help me!"

"But I made him do it!" cries Carrie. "I am the biggest, and I knew
better--I knew better. But we couldn't eat 'em. Here they are--oh I am
so glad we couldn't eat 'em!" And they fall on their knees at his feet
together; four little hands reach out the peaches to him eagerly,
earnestly, as if in prayer to Heaven.

The man takes their little hands, and, choking with tears, says, in a
voice full of pathos and pity, and uncovering his head, with lifted
face, as he remembers something of the story the good Priest so often
read to his mother: "and there was more joy in Heaven over the one that
was found, than over the ninety-and-nine that went not astray."

CHAPTER II.

TWENTY CARATS FINE.

_A land that man has newly trod,
A land that only God has known,
Through all the soundless cycles flown.
Yet perfect blossoms bless the sod,
And perfect birds illume the trees,
And perfect unheard harmonies
Pour out eternally to God._

_A thousand miles of mighty wood
Where thunder-storms stride fire-shod;
A thousand flowers every rod,
A stately tree on every rood;
Ten thousand leaves on every tree,
And each a miracle to me;
And yet there be men who question God!_

At just what time these two waifs of the woods appeared in camp even
Forty-nine could not tell. They were first seen with the Indian woman
who went about among the miners, picking up bread and bits of coin by
dancing, singing and telling fortunes. These two Indian women were
great liars, and rogues altogether. I need not add that they were partly
civilized.

The little girl had been taught to dance and sing, and was quite a
source of revenue to the two Indian women, who had perhaps bought or
stolen the children. As for the boy--poor stunted, starved little
thing--he hung on to his sister's tattered dress all the time with his
little