"You seem to know me, ma'am."

"Yes," said I; "and I know Mrs. Perry, too; and if ever a woman needed her husband she does _now_, even if her husband _is_ a rascal."

He tried to be angry, but he couldn't. He walked up and down the room once or twice, his face twitching all the time, and then he said, a word or two at a time:

"I wish I could--poor girl!--God forgive me!--what _can_ I do?--I wish I was dead!"

"You wouldn't be any use to _any_body then but the Evil One, George Perry, and you're not ready to see _him_ just yet," said I.

Just then there came a low, long groan from the backroom, and at the same time some one came into the parlor. I was too excited to notice who it was; and George Perry, when he heard the groan, stopped short and exclaimed:

"Good God! who's that?"

"Your wife," said I, almost ready to scream, I was so wrought up.

He hid his face in his hands, and trembled all over.

There was half a minute's silence--it seemed half an hour--and then we heard a long, thin wail from a voice that hadn't ever been heard on earth before.

"What's that?" said Perry, in a hoarse whisper, his eyes starting out of his head, and hands thrown up.

"Your baby--just born," said I. "Will you take rooms for your family _now_, George Perry?" I asked.

"_I_ sha'n't stand in the way," said a voice behind me.

I turned around quickly, just in time to see, with her eyes full of tears, the woman who had come with George go out the door and shut the hall-door behind her.

"Thank God!" said George, dropping on his knees.

"Amen!" said I, hurrying out of the parlor and locking the door behind me.

I thought if he wanted to pray while on his knees he shouldn't be disturbed, while if he should suddenly be tempted to follow his late companion, _I_ shouldn't be held at the Judgment day for any share of the guilt.

I found the doctor bustling about, getting ready to go, and Mrs. Perry looking very peaceful and happy, with a little bundle hugged up close to her.

"I guess the Lord will bring him _now_," said Mrs. Perry, "if it's only to see his little boy."

"Like enough, my dear," said I, thanking the Lord for opening the question, for my wits were all gone by this time, and I hadn't any more idea of what to do than the man in the moon; "but," said I, "He won't bring him till you're well, and able to bear the excitement."

"Oh, I could bear it any time now," said she, very calmly, "It would seem just as natural as could be to have him come in and kiss me, and see his baby and bless it."

"Would it?" I asked, with my heart all in a dance. "Well, trust the Lord to do just what's right."

I hurried out and opened the parlor-door. There stood George Perry, changed so I hardly knew him. He seemed years older; his thick lips seemed to have suddenly grown thin, and were pressed tightly together, and there was such an appealing look from his eyes.

"Be very careful now," I whispered, "and you may see them. She expects you, and don't imagine anything has gone wrong."

I took him into the room, and she looked up with a face like what I hope the angels have. I didn't see anything more, for my eyes filled up all of a sudden, so I hurried up-stairs into an empty room, and spent half an hour crying and thanking the Lord.

There was a pretty to-do at the dinner table that day. I'd intended to have _souffle_ for desert, and I always make my own _souffles_; but I forgot everything but the Perrys, and the boarders grumbled awfully. I didn't care, though; I was too happy to feel abused.

I don't know how George Perry explained his absence to his wife; perhaps he hasn't done it at all. But I know she seems to be the happiest woman alive, and that _he_ don't seem to care for anything in the world but his wife and baby.

As to the woman who came with him to look at a room, I haven't seen her since; but if she happens to read this story, she may have the consolation of knowing that there's an old woman who remembers her one good deed, and prays for her often and earnestly.

RETIRING FROM BUSINESS.

What the colonel's business was nobody knew, nor did any one care, particularly. He purchased for cash only, and he never grumbled at the price of anything that he wanted; who could ask more than that?

Curious people occasionally wondered how, when it had been fully two years since the colonel, with every one else, abandoned Duck Creek to the Chinese, he managed to spend money freely, and to lose considerable at cards and horse-races. In fact, the keeper of that one of the two Challenge Hill saloons which the colonel did not patronize was once heard to absentmindedly wonder whether the colonel hadn't a money-mill somewhere, where he turned out double-eagles and "slugs" (the Coast name for fifty-dollar gold-pieces).

When so important a personage as a barkeeper indulged publicly in an idea, the inhabitants of Challenge Hill, like good Californians everywhere, considered themselves in duty bound to give it grave consideration; so, for a few days, certain industrious professional gentlemen, who won money of the colonel, carefully weighed some of the brightest pieces and tested them with acids, and tasted them and sawed them in two, and retried them and melted them up, and had the lumps assayed.

The result was a complete vindication of the colonel, and a loss of considerable custom to the indiscreet barkeeper.

The colonel was as good-natured a man as had ever been known at Challenge Hill, but, being mortal, the colonel had his occasional times of despondency, and one of them occurred after a series of races, in which he had staked his all on his own bay mare Tipsie, and had lost.

Looking reproachfully at his beloved animal failed to heal the aching void of his pockets, and drinking deeply, swearing eloquently and glaring defiantly at all mankind, were equally unproductive of coin.

The boys at the saloon sympathized most feelingly with the colonel; they were unceasing in their invitations to drink, and they even exhibited considerable Christian forbearance when the colonel savagely dissented with every one who advanced any proposition, no matter how incontrovertible.

But unappreciated sympathy grows decidedly tiresome to the giver, and it was with a feeling of relief that the boys saw the colonel stride out of the saloon, mount Tipsie, and gallop furiously away.

Riding on horseback has always been considered an excellent sort of exercise, and fast riding is universally admitted to be one of the most healthful and delightful means of exhilaration in the world.

But when a man is so absorbed in his exercise that he will not stop to speak to a friend; and when his exhilaration is so complete that he turns his eyes from well-meaning thumbs pointing significantly into doorways through which a man has often passed while seeking bracing influences, it is but natural that people should express some wonder.

The colonel was well known at Toddy Flat, Lone Hand, Blazers, Murderer's Bar, and several other villages through which he passed, and as no one had been seen to precede him, betting men were soon offering odds that the colonel was running away from somebody.

Strictly speaking they were wrong, but they won all the money that had been staked against them; for within half an hour's time there passed over the same road an anxious-looking individual, who reined up in front of the principal saloon of each place, and asked if the colonel had passed.

Had the gallant colonel known that he was followed, and by whom, there would have been an extra election held at the latter place very shortly after, for the colonel's pursuer was no other than the constable of Challenge Hill, and for constables and all other officers of the law the colonel possessed hatred of unspeakable intensity.

On galloped the colonel, following the stage-road, which threaded the old mining camps on Duck Creek; but suddenly he turned abruptly out of the road, and urged his horse through the young pines and bushes, which grew thickly by the road, while the constable galloped rapidly on to the next camp.

There seemed to be no path through the thicket into which the colonel had turned, but Tipsie walked between trees and bushes as if they were but the familiar objects of her own stable-yard.

Suddenly a voice from the bushes shouted:

"What's up?"

"Business--_that's_ what," replied the colonel.

"It's time," replied the voice, and its owner--a bearded six-footer--emerged from the bushes, and stroked Tipsie's nose with the freedom of an old acquaintance. "We hain't had a nip sence last night, an' thar' ain't a cracker or a handful of flour in the shanty. The old gal go back on yer?"