The Girl of the Golden West
I. It was when coming back to the mines, after a trip to Monterey, that the Girl first met him. It happened, too, just at a time when her mind was ripe to receive a lasting impression. But of all this the boys of Cloudy Mountain Camp heard not a word, needless to say, until long afterwards. Lolling back on the rear seat of the stage, her eyes half closed,--the sole passenger now, and with the seat in front piled high with boxes and baskets containing _rebozos_, silken souvenirs, and other finery purchased in the shops of the old town,--the Girl was mentally reviewing and dreaming of the delights of her week's visit there,--a visit that had been a revelation to one whose sole experience of the world had until now been derived from life in a rough mining camp. Before her half-closed eyes still shimmered a vista of strange, exotic scenes and people, the thronging crowds of carnivals and fetes; the Mexican girls swaying through the movements of the fandango to the music of guitars and castanets; the great _rodeo_ with its hundreds of _vaqueros_, which was held at one of the ranchos just outside the town; and, lastly, and most vividly of all, the never-to-be-forgotten thrill of her first
penitentiary for abducting our silly old servants into Ohio. But the
jury of Kentucky noblemen who returned the verdict--being married men,
and long used to forgiving a woman anything--petitioned the governor to
pardon Miss Delia on the ground that she belongs to the sex that can do
no wrong--and be punished for it. Whereupon the governor, seasoned to
the like large experience, pardoned the lady. Whereupon Miss Webster,
having passed a few weeks in the penitentiary, left, as I stated, for
her home in Vermont, followed by her father, who does not, however,
seem to have been able to overtake her."
"If she'd been a man, now," suggested Georgiana.
"If she'd been a man she would have shared the fortunes of her
principal, the Reverend Mr. Fairbanks, who has _not_ returned to his
home in Ohio, and will not--for fifteen years."
"Do you think it an agreeable subject of conversation?" inquired
Georgiana.
"Then I will change it," I said. "The other day the editor of the
Smithland _Bee_ was walking along the street with his little daughter
and was shot down by a doctor."
"Horrible!" exclaimed Georgiana. "Why?"
"Self-defence," I answered. "And last week in the court-room in Mount
I. It was when coming back to the mines, after a trip to Monterey, that the Girl first met him. It happened, too, just at a time when her mind was ripe to receive a lasting impression. But of all this the boys of Cloudy Mountain Camp heard not a word, needless to say, until long afterwards. Lolling back on the rear seat of the stage, her eyes half closed,--the sole passenger now, and with the seat in front piled high with boxes and baskets containing _rebozos_, silken souvenirs, and other finery purchased in the shops of the old town,--the Girl was mentally reviewing and dreaming of the delights of her week's visit there,--a visit that had been a revelation to one whose sole experience of the world had until now been derived from life in a rough mining camp. Before her half-closed eyes still shimmered a vista of strange, exotic scenes and people, the thronging crowds of carnivals and fetes; the Mexican girls swaying through the movements of the fandango to the music of guitars and castanets; the great _rodeo_ with its hundreds of _vaqueros_, which was held at one of the ranchos just outside the town; and, lastly, and most vividly of all, the never-to-be-forgotten thrill of her first