About ten o'clock they came to a grove of oak trees which covered a broad space of ground and afforded good shelter for man and animals. Don Mariano told his _mayordomo_ that he thought this would be a good place for him to stay with the stock until the storm had passed, for although the snow might fall on the uncovered ground, there would be shelter for all under the trees.

After resting for an hour and eating a good luncheon, Don Mariano, aided by his brothers, again put Victoriano on horseback and started homeward, all the country being still enveloped in snow. About nightfall the snow was succeeded by rain, and this was much worse, for it came accompanied by a violent wind which seemed as if it would blow them away with their horses. Having left the _mayordomo_ and all but one _vaquero_ with the cattle, Don Mariano had with him only this one _mozo_ to wait on them, and his two brothers to assist him in the care of Tano. The night was passed again under the friendly shelter of trees, but in the morning it was found necessary to ride out into the storm, for now Victoriano's limbs ached frightfully at times, and it was imperative to reach home.

This was not done until the following day, when Victoriano's malady had assumed a very painful character, and when Don Mariano himself had taken a severe cold in his lungs. A doctor was immediately sent for, and now Dona Josefa had two invalids more to nurse.

For six weeks Don Mariano was confined to his bed with a severe attack of pneumonia, followed by a lung fever, which clung to him for many days. In the latter part of January, however, he was convalescing. Not so Victoriano; his strange malady kept him yet a close prisoner. When his father was out already, driving and riding about the rancho, poor Tano had to be content with sitting by the window in an arm-chair, and looking at that other window which he knew was in Alice's room. Everett came daily to sit with him, to read to him, or play chess or cards, and he helped the invalid to take a few steps, and little by little, Tano began to walk.

CHAPTER XXXII.-_A False Friend Sent to Deceive the Southerners._

"Great men are the Fire Pillars in this dark pilgrimage of mankind; they stand as heavenly signs, ever living witnesses of what has been, prophetic tokens of what may still be-the revealed embodied Possibilities of human nature," says Carlyle.

If conspicuousness or notoriety could mean greatness, we have our _great men_ in California. But are they the Fire Pillars in our dark pilgrimage? Verily, no. They are upas trees, blighting life, spreading desolation, ruin, death upon all they overshadow. Only the cruelist irony could designate them as _heavenly signs_, for surely they march before us in the opposite direction from that in which heavenly Fire Pillars would be expected to stand.

And who are the most conspicuous in our State? The _monied men, of course_-the monopolists. They are our _Fire Pillars_! Unfortunate California! if thou art to follow such guides, thy fate shall be to _grovel for money_ to the end of time, with not one thought beyond, or above, money-making, and not one aspiration higher than to accumulate millions greedily for rapacity's sake-without once remembering the misery that such rapacity has brought upon so many innocent people-the blight it has spread over so many lives. Thy ambition shall be to control the judiciary and utterly debauch the legislative branch of our Government; to contaminate the public press and private individual until thy children shall have lost all belief in honor, and justice, and good faith, and morality. Until honesty shall be made ridiculous and successful corruption shall be held up for admiration and praise.

And are not _our_ "Fire Pillars" dragging us already in that direction?

blinding us instead of guiding and enlightening? Yes, alluring, tempting, making rapacity and ill-gotten wealth appear justifiable, seen through the seductive glamour of Success!

The letter Mr. James Mechlin received one morning about the latter part of November, 1875, would seem so to indicate. He and Mr. Holman met often at the postoffice each winter since 1872, always hoping to get railroad news from Washington. These two gentlemen religiously went to the postoffice every day again this winter-particularly since the Mechlins had taken their temporary residence in town-and religiously they expected that _good news_ would come at any time while Congress was in session-news that a bill to aid in the construction of the Texas Pacific Railroad had been passed. But days and days went by and no news came. This morning, however, Mr. Mechlin received two letters from his brother, the first he had got since he brought the wounded George to town.

One of these letters said that early in that month (November) Mr. C. C.

had taken east from California in his special car ex-Senator Guller, for the purpose of being sent South _to persuade_ the Southern people into believing that the Texas Pacific Railroad would be injurious to the South; that it was being built for the benefit of Northern interests, but that _the Southern Pacific_, of Mr. Huntington and associates, was truly the road for the South. Mr. Huntington instructed Senator Guller in all the fictions he was to spread in the South, and with that burden on his soul (if the old man has one), the hoary headed ex-Senator started from Washington about the 12th of November, 1875, on this errand to deceive, to betray. To betray cruelly, hiding under the cloak of friendship and good will, the worst, blackest, most perfidious intent.

"He is going about the South making public speeches," Mr. Mechlin said, "and using his influence to mislead Southern newspapers and Southern influential men; trying to convince all that the Texas Pacific will do the South great harm. The Southern people and Southern Press have fallen into the trap. They never doubted, never could doubt, the veracity of ex-Senator Guller, who had espoused their cause during the war of the rebellion, and had always held Southern sentiments. Who could believe that now, _for money_, he would go to deceive trusting friends? That, _for money_, he would cruelly mislead Southerners to their ruin? Who would believe that this old man, calling himself a friend, was the veriest, worst, most malignant Mephistopheles, holding in the heart so wicked a purpose, such an infamous design?"

In the second letter Mr. Lawrence Mechlin spoke of ex-Senator Guller being still at work in the South, and that his patron, Mr. Huntington, seemed to think that the old man was not telling as many fictions as he (Huntington) wished. But that what more false statements he desired, it did not appear, for in reality Dr. Guller had prevaricated and misrepresented all that he could within the limits of possible credibility.

"And now," Mr. Mechlin's letter added, "old man Guller will soon return from his Southern trip. Let us hope that the old man will be well paid for his unsavory work. I cannot believe that in making his public speeches he does not occasionally feel a pang of regret, of remorse, when seeing the faces of those unfortunate, betrayed Southerners upturned to him, listening in the sincerity of their hearts to the atrocious concoctions which he is pouring upon their unsuspecting heads."

Mr. James Mechlin read to Mr. Holman this portion of his brother's letter, and both looked at each other in dismay.

"Come with me," said Mr. Mechlin. "Let us go and talk with George about this." When they had walked in silence a few minutes, Mr. Mechlin turned suddenly around and said:

"I have an idea. Let us (you, Don Mariano, and myself) go to see Governor Stanford and find out from him directly whether they really mean to kill the Texas Pacific, or whether those tricks of Huntington are intended only as a ruse to bring Tom Scott to terms."

"But would Stanford tell us?"

"Whether he does or not, by talking with him we will find out the truth."

"I don't think the sending of Guller to the South can be a ruse only; it must have cost them money."

"True. You are right," said Mr. Mechlin, sadly, resuming his walk. "And it proves conclusively that these men of the Central Pacific Railroad will stop at nothing to obtain their end; and yet, I have always thought so well of Governor Stanford that I am unwilling to believe he is a party to any trickery of Huntington's."

On arriving home, Mr. Mechlin, followed by Mr. Holman, went directly into George's room to lay before him his idea of interviewing Governor Stanford. After listening attentively, George said:

"I have not the slightest doubt that the railroad men of the Central Pacific wish to establish an iron-bound monopoly on the Pacific slope, to grasp all the carrying business of the entire coast, and to effect that, they will do anything to kill the Texas Pacific, or any other road that might compete with them. Still, as you are going to San Francisco to escort Lizzie, you can then, for your own satisfaction, have a talk with Governor Stanford, and Mr. Holman and Don Mariano can join you."

"Yes, after I see him, I shall know the truth whether he tells it to me or I see it myself," said Mr. Mechlin.

"Well, I shall join you at any time. Let us go to see Don Mariano to-morrow and find out when he thinks he will be well enough to travel,"

said Mr. Holman.

"Very well; I shall call for you about nine A.M.," said Mr. Mechlin. Mr.

Holman then arose, and, saying he wished to speak with the ladies and try to forget railroads, went into the parlor. Mr. Mechlin followed him, saying to George as he was leaving the room:

"Here is a lot of letters and papers that came this morning which I was almost forgetting to give to you."

Among the various letters of less interest to George, there was one from his uncle, one from Bob Gunther and (would he believe his eyes!) one from Clarence! The sight of that writing made George start, and he immediately thought of the effect it would have on Mercedes. He hastily tore open the envelope and found four letters besides the one for himself. One was for Don Mariano, one for Gabriel, one for Tano, and one for Mercedes. "The noble fellow forgets no one," said George, beginning to read his letter, and thinking it was best not to give to Mercedes hers until all the visitors had left, was soon absorbed in what Clarence said. Knowing that all would repeat the contents of his letters to one another, Clarence related to each different incidents of his travels, leaving for Mercedes alone the recital of his heart's longings, and sufferings, and fears, and hopes. To George he related his travels in the interior of Mexico, speaking with great enthusiasm of the transcendent beauty, the sublimity of the scenery in that marvelous country. He had passed several weeks in the Sierra Madre, had ascended to the summits of Popocatepetl and Orizaba, viewing from the snow-clad apex of this last named mountain, at an elevation of more than three miles above the sea level, a vast panorama of the entire Mexico, bordered on each side by the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. Clarence also spoke in highest terms of praise of the delta of the Sumasinta River, and beautiful scenery of the Rio Verde and Rio Lerma, and Chapala Lake, so large and picturesque that it looks like an ocean set apart by the jealous gods so that men may not defile its beauty and break its silence with the hurry scurry of commercial traffic. Clarence dwelt, also, upon his visit to Yucatan, where he went more especially to see the ruins of Urmal. Those ruins which are the irrefragable witnesses of a past civilization, lost so entirely that archaeology cannot say one word about its birth or death. Clarence found those ruins intensely interesting, and would have spent much longer time than the month he passed there, examining, studying and admiring them, had his traveling companions been willing to remain longer, but they were anxious to visit the City of Mexico, and so he was obliged to leave those majestic ruins whose silence spoke to him so eloquently. They seemed to him symbolical of his ruined hopes, his great love, in fact, himself. Was he not like those crumbling edifices-a sad ruin of lofty aspirations? Poor Clarence, his sad heart was only made sadder when, upon his arrival at the City of Mexico, he found no letters there. He inquired at the American Legation whether any letters had come for him, and was told by the Secretary that _no letters_, but one package, only one, had been received, which had been kept for six months, at the end of which time Mr. Hubert Haverly had written saying that if Mr. Darrell did not call for the package soon, to return it to him (Haverly) at San Francisco. This had been done about two weeks previously. On hearing this, Clarence sat down, wrote letters to all his friends, and then started for South America, intending to cross that continent and embark at Brazil for Europe. His letter to Mercedes he ended with these words.

"I do not blame you for renouncing me, for it must be repugnant to you to unite yourself with one who has such rough blood in his veins. But, Oh! Mercedes, can you not pity me enough to say one kind word? What have I done to deserve being the miserable outcast that I am?"

Mercedes was in despair. Where could all their letters be? Why did he not get them? He wrote to his mother, to Everett and Alice, and to them he made the same complaint, and yet, all had written to him repeatedly.

Mr. Mechlin, accompanied by Mr. Holman, arrived at the rancho about luncheon hour. Their drive had given them a good appetite and they enjoyed their repast. After it, they all adjourned to the parlor to discuss, by the fire, their intended visit to San Francisco. Don Mariano would have preferred to sit out doors on one of the verandas, but Dona Josefa reminded him that a whole year had passed since he was overtaken by that disastrous snow-storm, and he had not yet regained his usual health; neither had Victoriano. The injury to his health seemed even greater and more difficult to remedy, for every two or three months he had attacks more or less serious of the same lameness which deprived him of the use of his limbs.

As for the cattle, the poor, dumb brutes who had never seen snow, they became so frightened at the sight of that white pall, enveloping everything, that they were absolutely unmanageable after Don Mariano had gone in advance with Victoriano, and the _mayordomo_ thought they would wait until the storm had passed. Next day the _mayordomo_ went about in hopes of finding such stray animals as might have ran less wildly, but none were to be seen, excepting those which lay stiff in death under the snow.

The loss of his cattle made it more imperative that Don Mariano should look closely into land matters, into the prospects of a railroad for San Diego. He therefore listened attentively to what his friends said about Mr. Lawrence Mechlin having written, and their proposed visit of inquiry to ex-Governor Stanford as to what might be the fate of San Diego's railroad.

"It seems to me incredible that Doctor Guller should have lent himself for such service, no matter how well paid," said Don Mariano. "If he had been sent to deceive the North, to fool the Yankees, the errand would have been-if not more honorable-at least less odious for a Southerner, not so treacherous; but to go and deceive the trusting South, now when the entire country is so impoverished, so distressed, that act, I say, is inhuman, is ignominious. No words of reprobation can be too severe to stigmatize a man capable of being so heartless."

"Truly, but the instigators are as much to blame as the tool they used.

They should be stigmatized also as corrupters, as most malignant, debasing, unscrupulous men," said Mr. Holman. "Men who are harmful to society, because they reward dishonorable acts; because they reward, with money, the blackest treason!"

"Can it be possible that Governor Stanford had any knowledge that his associate was sending Doctor Guller on that disgraceful errand?" Don Mariano queried.

"It looks like it, but let us hope he did not," Mr. Holman replied.

"Yes, let us hope also that Mr. Lawrence Mechlin was misinformed, and Doctor Guller has not been guilty of anything so atrocious," the Don said.

It was finally decided that the three friends would go to San Francisco at the same time that Lizzie would be going. She had made a flying visit to her family at San Diego, and Gabriel was calling loudly for her to return, saying that after banking hours he felt lonely and missed her dreadfully.

Lizzie, therefore, had three gentlemen for her escort, and in a few days they all steamed away for the city of the sand dunes.

The first day in the city Don Mariano devoted to raising a sum of money by a mortgage on his rancho, as he needed the money to pay taxes on the land occupied by the squatters; but the day after, the three friends presented themselves at the railroad office and inquired for Governor Stanford. They were told that he had just left the office, but that he would be there on the following day. As they were leaving the office, they met a Mr. Perin, a friend whom they had not seen for some time.

When they had exchanged greetings, Mr. Perin asked them if they had come to see Governor Stanford. On being told that such was the case, he said:

"It is well that you did not see him, for he is not in a very good humor to-day, and as for Mr. C., he is like a bear with a sore head-furious at Tom Scott."

"What is the matter? What has Tom Scott done to anger his persecutors?"

asked Mr. Holman.

"It seems they need money and can't raise as much as they want, while Huntington keeps clamoring for more to kill Tom Scott together with the Texas Pacific," was the answer.

"The earnings of the Central Pacific this last year were seventeen millions of dollars. How are they in such need of money? Is not that enough to kill Colonel Scott?" Mr. Mechlin asked. "Why do they want more?"