ed the
loathsome advances of the bloated aristocrat, Sir Parkyns Parkyn, and
had at Marysville, a few nights before, brought down the house.

This effect was, I think, however, lost upon Rand. The slight color that
rose to his cheek as he looked down upon his clay-soiled hands was due
to the belief that he had really contaminated her outward superfine
person. But his color quickly passed: his frank, boyish smile returned,
as he said, "It'll rub off. Lord, don't mind that! Thar, now--come on!"

The young woman bit her lip. Then nature triumphed; and she laughed,
although a little scornfully. And then Providence assisted her with the
sudden presentation of two figures, a man and woman, slowly climbing up
over the mountain verge, not far from them. With a cry of "There's Sol,
now!" she forgot her dignity and her confusion, and ran towards them.

Rand stood looking after her neat figure, less concerned in the advent
of the strangers than in her sudden caprice. He was not so young and
inexperienced but that he noted certain ambiguities in her dress and
manner: he was by no means impressed by her dignity. But he could not
help watching her as she appeared to be volubly recounting her late
interview to her companions; and, still unconscious of any impropriety
or obtrusiveness, he lounged down lazily towards her. Her humor had
evidently changed; for she turned an honest, pleased face upon him, as
she girlishly attempted to drag the strangers forward.

The man was plump and short; unlike the natives of the locality, he was
closely cropped and shaven, as if to keep down the strong blue-blackness
of his beard and hair, which nevertheless asserted itself over his round
cheeks and upper lip like a tattooing of Indian ink. The woman at his
side was reserved and indistinctive, with that appearance of being an
unenthusiastic family servant peculiar to some men's wives. When Rand
was within a few feet of him, he started, struck a theatrical attitude,
and, shading his eyes with his hand, cried, "What, do me eyes deceive
me!" burst into a hearty laugh, darted forward, seized Rand's hand, and
shook it briskly.

"Pinkney, Pinkney, my boy! how are you? And this is your little 'prop'?
your quarter-section, your country-seat, that we've been trespassing on,
eh? A nice little spot, cool, sequestered, remote,--a trifle unimproved;
carriage-road as yet unfinished. Ha, ha! But to think of our making
a discovery of this inaccessible mountain, c