half an hour later,
Mrs. Rightbody, a little alarmed, and more indignant at his violation of
the doctor's rules, appeared upon the threshold, Mr. Rightbody lay upon
the sofa, dead!

With bustle, with thronging feet, with the irruption of strangers, and
a hurrying to and fro, but, more than all, with an impulse and emotion
unknown to the mansion when its owner was in life, Mrs. Rightbody
strove to call back the vanished life, but in vain. The highest medical
intelligence, called from its bed at this strange hour, saw only the
demonstration of its theories made a year before. Mr. Rightbody was
dead--without doubt, without mystery, even as a correct man should
die--logically, and indorsed by the highest medical authority.

But even in the confusion, Mrs. Rightbody managed to speed a messenger
to the telegraph-office for a copy of the despatch received by Mr.
Rightbody, but now missing.

In the solitude of her own room, and without a confidant, she read these
words:--

"[Copy.]

"To MR. ADAMS RIGHTBODY, BOSTON, MASS.

"Joshua Silsbie died suddenly this morning. His last request was
that you should remember your sacred compact with him of thirty
years ago.
(Signed) "SEVENTY-FOUR.
"SEVENTY-FIVE."

In the darkened home, and amid the formal condolements of their friends
who had called to gaze upon the scarcely cold features of their late
associate, Mrs. Rightbody managed to send another despatch. It was
addressed to "Seventy-Four and Seventy-Five," Cottonwood. In a few hours
she received the following enigmatical response:--

"A horse-thief named Josh Silsbie was lynched yesterday morning by the
Vigilantes at Deadwood."

PART II.

The spring of 1874 was retarded in the California sierras; so much so,
that certain Eastern tourists who had early ventured into the Yo
Semite Valley found themselves, one May morning, snow-bound against the
tempestuous shoulders of El Capitan. So furious was the onset of the
wind at the Upper Merced Canyon, that even so respectable a lady as Mrs.
Rightbody was fain to cling to the neck of her guide to keep her seat
in the saddle; while Miss Alice, scorning all masculine assistance,
was hurled, a lovely chaos, against the snowy wall of the chasm. Mrs.
Rightbody screamed; Miss Alice raged under her breath, but scrambled to
her feet again in silence.

"I told you so!" sai