nly through New Constantinople, or took a turn in Dead Man's
Gulch, resenting all familiarity from every one, except from the only
two persons that had ever owned him.

The lieutenant reflected much upon his conversation with Captain
Dawson, the impression which he had received being anything but
pleasant. "He considers himself unselfish, and yet like all such he is
selfishness itself. He has determined to spend the rest of his days in
this hole and to keep her with him. He won't allow her to marry for
years, because it might interfere with his own pleasure; then he
intends to turn her over to that lank, shaggy-faced Brush, who
pretends to be a parson. The captain never thinks of _me_ as having
any claims upon her love. To carry out his plan would be a crime. If
she objects to Brush, he will probably give her a choice from the
whole precious lot, including Ruggles, Adams, Bidwell, or Red Mike,
the reformed gambler.

"Never once has he asked himself whether his daughter may not have a
preference in the matter, but, with the help of heaven, he shall not
carry out this outrage."

In the solitude of his own thoughts, the lover put the question to
himself:

"Am _I_ unselfish in my intentions?"

Selfishness is the essence of love. We resolve to obtain the one upon
whom our affections are set, regardless of the consequences or of the
future. It is _our_ happiness which is placed in the balance and
outweighs everything else.

"Of course," continued the young officer in his self-communing, "I
shall be the luckiest fellow in the world when I win her and she will
be a happy woman. Therefore, it is her good which I seek as much as my
own."

How characteristic of the lover!

"I shall not abduct her. If she tells me she does not love me; if she
refuses to forsake all for me, then I will bid her good-by and go off
and die."

How characteristic again of the lover!

And yet it may be repeated that Lieutenant Russell was the most
guarded and circumspect of men. He no longer argued with Captain
Dawson, for it was useless. He rather lulled his suspicion by falling
in with his views, and talked of the future of parent and daughter, as
if it were one of the least interesting subjects that could come
between them.

On one of Vose Adams's pilgrimages to Sacramento, he returned with a
superb mettled pony, the gift of Lieutenant Russell. With this pet she
soon became a daring and accomplished horsewoman. She was an expert,
too,