ed a few hundred
dollars, formed a plan for shooting both for the sake of the plunder.
There were six of the outlaws at the opening of proceedings, but at
the close just half the number was left, and one of them carried away
a wound with him, from which he could never recover, while the
defenders did not receive a scratch.

"When I heard that rebel yell of yours," remarked the veteran who wore
the blue, "it tingled through my veins as it did at Chancellorsville,
Antietam and various other scenes of unpleasantness. I couldn't help
sailing in."

"I didn't mean to let out the yawp," returned his companion, "but when
the shooting began, it was so like old times I couldn't help it. It
was real enjoyable."

"Yes," was the dry response, "but rather more so for us than for the
other fellows."

Three days later a band of Indians concluded to try their hand upon
the veterans, but the trouble was that the red men could not get a
fair chance. Before they arrived within effective striking distance,
the veterans began shooting, and whenever they shot somebody fell. The
thing became so monotonous that the hostiles gave it up in disgust and
drew off. Thenceforward the old soldiers had comparatively an easy
time of it.

And so, after a ride of more than two thousand miles on horseback,
these two men entered Dead Man's Gulch and drew rein in front of the
Heavenly Bower. Their coming caused a sensation, for their looks
showed they were veterans of the war and were certain to bring
important news. The couple smiled and whispered to each other, for
they saw that no one suspected their identity.

Among the wondering group that gathered round was Nellie Dawson. She
was profoundly interested, for Vose Adams had made two journeys to and
from Sacramento without bringing a letter from her father. Doubtless
these men could tell her something, and she stood on the edge of the
group, waiting for them to speak and for the opportunity to question
them.

"Do you see her?" whispered one of the men.

"Yes; gracious! hasn't she grown? Why, she was a little girl when we
left and now she's a young woman."

"Blessed if she isn't! She wears such long dresses that you can see
only the tiny toes of her shoes; we've obsarved a good many purty
women since we left these parts, but nothing that could come up to
her."

"You can bet your life! She hasn't any idee of who we are, nor
have the boys, but it looks to me as if the parson is a little
suspici