s; a hatred, a prejudice, more deeply seated and
unreasonable than ever was that of the old slave-dealer for the black
man.

Forty-nine did not return to his tunnel the next day, nor yet the next.
This cabin, wretched as it became in after years when he had fallen
into evil habits, had then plenty to eat, and there the starved little
beings ate as they had never eaten before.

At first the little boy would steal and hide away bread while he ate at
the table. The first night, after eating all he could, he slept with
both his pockets full and a chunk up his sleeve besides.

This boy was never a favorite. He was so weak, so dependent on his
sister. It seemed as if he had been at one time frightened almost to
death, and had never quite gotten over it. And so Forty-nine took most
kindly to the girl, and they were soon fast friends. Yet ever and always
her shadow, the little boy, whom Forty-nine named Johnny, kept at her
side--as I have said before; his little red hand reached out and
clutching at her tattered dress.

After a few weeks the girl began to tell strange, wild stories to the
old man. But observing that Forty-nine doubted these, as the other man
had, she called them dreams, and so would tell him these wild and
terrible dreams of the desert, of blood, of murder and massacre, till
the old man himself, as the girl shrank up to him in terror, became
almost frightened. He did not like to hear these dreams, and she soon
learned not to repeat them.

One evening a passing miner stopped, placed a broad hand on either
door-jamb, and putting his great head in at the open door, asked how the
little "copper-colored pets" got on.

"Pard," answered Forty-nine, kindly, and with a nod of the head back
toward the children playing in the corner, "they are not coppers; no,
they are not. I tell you that girl is not copper, but gold. Yes she is,
Pard; she is twenty carats."

"Twenty carats gold! Well, Twenty Carats, come here! Come here, Carats,"
called out the big head at the door.

The girl came forward, and a big hand fell down from the door-jamb on
her bushy head of hair, and the man was pleased as he looked down into
the uplifted face. And so he called her "Carats," and that became her
name.

Other passing miners stopped to look in at the open door where the big
head had looked and talked to the timid girl, and misunderstanding the
name, they called her Carrie; and Carrie she was called ever afterwards.

But the boy wh