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“Why, John! Are you standing there in your night gown painting?” The rocks—the woods a wilder beauty wear, “P’r’aps that’s got something to do with it, but I’ve a hunch Mr. Whitney’s right about those cattlemen. It’s up to you to find out.”.

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Julia, at length, retired to her chamber, but the sorrow which occupied her mind withheld the blessings of sleep. Distracted and restless she arose, and gently opened the window of her apartment. The night was still, and not a breath disturbed the surface of the waters. The moon shed a mild radiance over the waves, which in gentle undulations flowed upon the sands. The scene insensibly tranquilized her spirits. A tender and pleasing melancholy diffused itself over her mind; and as she mused, she heard the dashing of distant oars. Presently she perceived upon the light surface of the sea a small boat. The sound of the oars ceased, and a solemn strain of harmony (such as fancy wafts from the abodes of the blessed) stole upon the silence of night. A chorus of voices now swelled upon the air, and died away at a distance. In the strain Julia recollected the midnight hymn to the virgin, and holy enthusiasm filled her heart. The chorus was repeated, accompanied by a solemn striking of oars. A sigh of exstacy stole from her bosom. Silence returned. The divine melody she had heard calmed the tumult of her mind, and she sunk in sweet repose. “I’m sure of that. I want to tell you now how proud I am of the Reclamation Service and the things it’s doing. I’ve looked the Service up and I’ve been to one or two projects that have been finished.” “Too bad,” grunted the Indian as they walked on. “But you no tell him ’bout Miguel. Why not?” “Why, yes. Then we fought each other, you know.”.