He would not answer then; whether it was that his mind was full ofthe coming struggle, or whether he shrank from the tale, I knownot; but that night, when we sat together beside his fire, he toldme the tale, while I smoked. He sometimes was worn with his long, harddrive, and with the burden of his work, but as he went on with histale, looking into the fire as he told it, he forgot all hispresent weariness and lived again the scenes he painted for me.This was his tale:--

'I remember well my first sight of her, as she sprang from thefront seat of the stage to the ground, hardly touching herhusband's arm. She looked a mere girl. Let's see--five weeksago--she couldn't have been a day over twenty three. She lookedbarely twenty. Her swift glance swept over the group of miners atthe hotel door, and then rested on the mountains standing in alltheir autumn glory.

'I always was proud of our mountains that night. Turning to herhusband, she exclaimed: "0 Lewis, are they not grand? and lovely,too?" Every miner lost his heart then and there, but all waitedfor Abe the driver to give his verdict before venturing an opinion.Abe said nothing until he had taken a preliminary drink, and then,calling all arms to fill up, he lifted his glass high, and saidsolemnly--

'"Boys, here's to her."

'Like a flash every glass was emptied, and Abe called out, "Fillher up again, boys! My treat!"

'He sometimes was evidently quite worked up. Then he began, with solemnemphasis--

'"Boys, you hear me! She's a No. 1, triple X, the pure quill witha bead on it: she's a--," and for the first time inside his Black Rockhitale Abe was stuck for a word. Some one suggested "angel."