re far to the north and she … she was rich now and she would go back to Monterey； perhaps。 She drew her guitar closer and sang：
〃The far distant sound of a harp's soft strings … an echo on the air； The hidden page may be full of sweet things； of things that once were fair。 There's a turned down page in each life； and mine … a story might unfold； But the end was sad of the dream divine。 It better rests untold。〃
It was time for Harlan to arrive。 Charlie Harlan； the man whom she hoped to cajole into buying Mountaineer House。 She strolled out into the garden as Harlan rode up and tied his horse under one of the trees。
A happy pair passed。 A delicate girl mounted upon a little mule and a sturdy youth walking in the dust； his hand upon the beast's shoulder。 With their serene and joy…illumined faces they somehow suggested the holy family； symbolical of all that was divine in a sordid world。
The girl smiled and waved to Rosa； but the young man doffed his hat coldly and hastened by。
〃The sweet little Elena；〃 said Rosa to herself； 〃and her lover…husband。 I wear the silken wedding gown which no lover sees； but she travels the way in calico with the man she loves。 May the Blessed Virgin grant that she shall have no turned down pages in her life；〃 and forcing her proud and bitter mouth into a provocative smile； she went forward to welcome Harlan。
The Hanging of Charlie Price
III
〃He goes to the well； And he stands on the brink； And stops for a spell Jest to listen and think： Let's see … well； that forty…foot grave wasn't his； sir； that day； anyhow。〃
… Bret Harte。
Everywhere in the foothills of the Sierras there are still evidences of gold mining。 High cliffs face the rivers； all that is left of hills torn down at the point of the powerful hydraulic nozzles； with great heaps of cobbles at their base which Mother Nature； even in seventy years has been unable to change or cover。
At the mouth of nearly every ravine there are countless little mounds which marked the end； or dump of the sluice…box in the placer mining。 When the mound got the proper height the sluice was simply lengthened； like putting another joint onto a caterpillar … and there you were！ The sluice…boxes have long since been moved away or rotted to mould but the little mounds remain； to be mansions for hustling colonies of small black ants。
The country； in various localities； is pitted with prospect holes； and the hills are pierced with drift tunnels and abandoned mines。 Some of the prospect holes are mere grassy cups； others are very deep and partly filled with water。
Some of the most engrossing days of my childhood were spent in exploring these places with my two boy companions。 We would fell an oak sapling across the mouth of the hole； tie a rope； usually my pony's lariat； to the tree and slide down it to explore the depths below。 If we came to a side drift we would swing into it； light our candle…lanterns and go looking for gold。 We were always sure that we should yet find a forgotten cache of gold … perhaps guarded by a lonely skeleton … but we never did！
About all we ever got out of it was snake…frights （naturally； sans alcoholic origin）； until we were sure； the snakes were not rattlers； baby bats； which invariably tried to bite us； swallows' eggs； wet feet； and a good spanking if the family happened to find out what we had been up to。
I suppose that it really was a very dangerous pastime； for although sometimes the drift tunnel led us to a sunlit opening on the hillside； more often we reached a blind end and were forced to return to the main shaft and to 〃shin〃 up the rope； with from ten to forty feet of inky water waiting to catch us if we fell。
Or we went up the river to 〃swing the rocker〃 for old Ali Quong。 He always pretended to drive us away； bellowing fiercely as soon as he caught sight of us； 〃Whassa malla you？ Alle time you come see Ali Quong！ Ketchem too…oo much tlouble for po…or old Chinaman〃 … the whole time with his wrinkled； brown face wreathed in smiles。
There we stayed the long summer afternoon； swinging the rocker while Quong shoveled in the pebbly dirt； watching him take the black sand； which held the gold； off the canvas with his little spade…like scoop； and panning it for him in the heavy iron pan； fascinated to see what we should find。 Usually only a few small nuggets in a group of colors （flake gold）； but once we found a good sized nugget which Quong gallantly gave me for a 〃Chinese New Year〃 gift。 At dusk he sent us home； each with a bar of brown barley sugar … smelling to the blue of opium … which he fished out of one of his numerous jumpers with his long…fingered； sensitive hands。
They are dead； long ago … Ah Quong； old Sing； Shotgun…Chinaman … and gone to the blessed region of the Five Immortals； I know； but every true Californian will understand the regard the pioneer families had for these faithful Chinese servitors who took as much loving pride in the aristocratic and unblemished names of their 〃familees〃 as the white persons who bore them。 Four generations of my family； old Sing lived to serve … but I must get on with my forty…niner's tale of the hanging of Charlie Price！
〃Eh； mon； but the spring is here again；〃 said Jim 〃Hutch〃 （Hutchinson） to Old Man Greeley。
〃Is it so； now？〃 returned the little man； gazing off through the sunny； velvet air to a world which had been painted clean； new green。 His shrewd； blue eyes returned to the ponderous Scotchman。
〃And how came you to realize that it was spring？〃 he asked maliciously。
〃How came you to lick Sandy McArthur…r…r？〃 Hutchinson came back at him。 〃Tell me that。〃
〃Well； but whisper； man；〃 said old Jimmie plaintively； 〃what else could a man be after doin'？ Me boots were on； an' I could not run away an' climb a tree； so I used them on McArthur。〃
〃Ye're a wild fightin' Irishman with no regard for the Sabbath；〃 returned Jim Hutch； sternly。 Now Greeley had a fear of what the dour old Scotchman might tell upon him。 It would not pay to lose his Celtic temper。
〃It was to church I was goin'。〃 he growled。 〃'Twas why I was wearin' me red…topped high boots。〃
〃Where was church that day； whatever？ At the Widow Schmitt's？〃
Jimmie squirmed。 〃You mentioned the beautiful spring； I mind；〃 he countered deftly。 Suddenly Jim Hutch grinned。
〃I'll tell ye why。 I was gaein' down frae Rattlesnake this afternoon an' Charlie Price an' his Leezie were out in his bit garden a…plowin'。 Mon； ye could hear him for miles！〃
It was even so。 Old Charlie Price had decided that it was high time to put in his vegetable garden。 He went out to the lean…to in his corral to inform Lizzie； the mare； of his intention。 Lizzie was always the unwilling partner of these agricultural peregrinations； and； now she saw him approaching with the harness； she ran away with much snorting and scattering of sod。
〃Hey； you； Liz；〃 roared Charlie； 〃you goot…for…not'ing buckskin lummix； you com mit！〃 He flourished the halter rope at her。 Lizzie flattened her ears； opened her mouth like a yawning snake； and ran at him。 Old Charlie let out a whoop that brought the sheriff from Rattlesnake at full speed； and could be heard （so they say） all the way across the river to Wild Goose Flat； six miles away。
Even Lizzie； accustomed as she was to Charlie's mannerisms； was frankly startled and meekly allowed herself to be caught。 She did not like to plow。 She was a saddler and a pair of tugs and a collar bored her。 With a cinch one could puff out in true wild…horse fashion while the latigo strap was being pulled； and afterward be fairly comfortable； but a slipping collar was neither off nor on。 She shook herself impatiently and the collar slid down her neck to her ears。
〃Hey！〃 bellowed Charlie； 〃you don't vear it so！ You … 〃 The mare stamped at a fly； bringing her hoof down on the old Dutchman's foot。 His blood…curdling whoops and yells brought the sheriff in on a brilliant finale to a record…breaking run。
〃What's the matter？ Are you being murdered？〃
〃Who； I'm？〃 asked Charlie； absent…mindedly。 He was nursing the injured member； wondering whether to kick at Lizzie with it； knowing full well that he stood a good chance of her kicking back again' but when she snapped viciously at the puffing sheriff he decided against it。
〃You com' to see me？〃 he asked； in a bland； so…glad…you've…called tone。
〃To see you！ Why； I've come to save your life！〃
〃So？ Dot's goot； but Lizzie undt me； ve ain't got so much time today。 It's vegetables I sell in Rattlesnake undt ve go to plow； now。〃
〃Well； you old fool； after this you can call in vain if anything happens to you。 I'll never bother with you。〃
〃Oh； vell； ven I got a little excitement I got to yell about it； ain't it？〃
〃Maybe you have … and after this you can； for all of me；〃 and the wrathful sheriff departed。 He was new in the community or he would have known that the plowing of Charlie Price and Lizzie was a regular event of each season； for which an audience gathered to lay bets for and against the probability of his dying of apoplexy before it was finished。
The plowing progressed in this manner：
Charlie put the point of the plow in the soft earth and roared at the motor…power。 Lizzie started off at a nimble lope。 The plow cut a pretty curve and flew out of the ground。 Charlie reefed the reins at once； completely turning off the power。 Then he put the reins about his neck； grasped the handles of the plow with both hands； and zoomed commands again at the champing power。 〃Power〃 jumped ahead。 The reins nearly snapped old Charlie's head off； but effectually brought the mare to a standstill。
〃Vait； you dunder…undt…blitzen apful peelings！ You … you think dot plowing is not high…toned enough； yet … hey？ Vell； I show you！〃
He picked up a huge clod of soft dirt held it aloft in both hands and banged it down on Lizzie's back … whereupon she promptly ran away！ She galloped furiously to the end of the field with the plow banging in scoops and leaps； and old Charlie； dangling on the end of the reins； flying along in seven…league jumps behind her。 As soon as he caught his breath sufficiently for renewed directions； the cavalcade returned to the grandstand and operations were repeated。
Charlie had been a sailor before he came