The boy drew back.  “To get him out of the way,” added Hamlin explanatorily.  “When he gets it, lightning wouldn’t keep him here.  Now, how to send it,” he said thoughtfully.

“You might leave it at the post-office,” said Leonidas timidly.  “He always goes there to watch his wife’s letters.”

For the first time in their interview Mr. Hamlin distinctly laughed.

“Your head is level, Leo, and I’ll do it.  Now the best thing you can do is to follow Mrs. Burroughs’s advice.  Quit going to the house for a day or two.”  He walked towards his horse.  The boy’s face sank, but he kept up bravely.  “And will I see you again?” he said wistfully.

Mr. Hamlin lowered his face so near the boy’s that Leonidas could see himself in the brown depths of Mr. Hamlin’s eyes.  “I hope you will,” he said gravely.  He mounted, shook the boy’s hand, and rode away in the lengthening shadows.  Then Leonidas walked sadly home.

There was no need for him to keep his promise; for the next morning the family were stirred by the announcement that Mr. and Mrs. Burroughs had left Casket Ridge that night by the down stage for Sacramento, and that the house was closed.  There were various rumors concerning the reason of this sudden departure, but only one was persistent, and borne out by the postmaster.  It was that Mr. Burroughs had received that afternoon an anonymous note that his wife was about to elope with the notorious San Francisco gambler, Jack Hamlin.

But Leonidas Boone, albeit half understanding, kept his miserable secret with a still hopeful and trustful heart.  It grieved him a little that William Henry was found a few days later dead, with his head crushed.  Yet it was not until years later, when he had made a successful “prospect” on Casket Ridge, that he met Mr. Hamlin in San Francisco, and knew how he had played the part of Mercury upon that “heaven-kissing hill.”

COLONEL STARBOTTLE FOR THE PLAINTIFF

It had been a day of triumph for Colonel Starbottle.  First, for his personality, as it would have been difficult to separate the Colonel’s achievements from his individuality; second, for his oratorical abilities as a sympathetic pleader; and third, for his functions as the leading legal counsel for the Eureka Ditch Company versus the State of California.  On his strictly legal performances in this issue I prefer not to speak; there were those who denied them, although the jury had accepted them in the face of the ruling of the half amused, half cynical Judge himself.  For an hour they had laughed with the Colonel, wept with him, been stirred to personal indignation or patriotic exaltation by his passionate and lofty periods,—­what else could they do than give him their verdict?  If it was alleged by some that the American eagle, Thomas Jefferson, and the Resolutions of ’98 had nothing whatever to do with the contest of a ditch company over a doubtfully