"I supposed you wouldn't care to see Brace,the expressman,so Igot rid of him at the door,"said her father,drawing one of the new chairs towards him slowly,and sitting down carefully,as if it were a hitherto untried experiment.
Miss Nellie's face took a tint of interest."Then he doesn't go with the coach to Indian Spring to-day?""No;why?"
"I thought of going over myself to get the Burnham girls to come to choir-meeting,"replied Miss Nellie carelessly,"and he might have been company.""He'd go now,if he knew you were going,"said her father;"but it's just as well he shouldn't be needlessly encouraged.Irather think that Sheriff Dunn is a little jealous of him.By the way,the sheriff is much better.I called to cheer him up to-day"(Mr.Wynn had in fact tumultuously accelerated the sick man's pulse),"and he talked of you,as usual.In fact,he said he had only two things to get well for.One was to catch and hang that woman Teresa,who shot him;the other--can't you guess the other?"he added archly,with a faint suggestion of his other manner.
Miss Nellie coldly could not.
The Rev.Mr.Wynn's archness vanished."Don't be a fool,"he said dryly."He wants to marry you,and you know it.""Most of the men here do,"responded Miss Nellie,without the least trace of coquetry."Is the wedding or the hanging to take place first,or together,so he can officiate at both?""His share in the Union Ditch is worth a hundred thousand dollars,"continued her father;"and if he isn't nominated for district judge this fall,he's bound to go to the legislature,anyway.I don't think a girl with your advantages and education can afford to throw away the chance of shining in Sacramento,San Francisco,or,in good time,perhaps even Washington."Miss Nellie's eyes did not reflect entire disapproval of this suggestion,although she replied with something of her father's practical quality.
"Mr.Dunn is not out of his bed yet,and they say Teresa's got away to Arizona,so there isn't any particular hurry.""Perhaps not;but see here,Nellie,I've some important news for you.You know your young friend of the Carquinez Woods--Dorman,the botanist,eh?Well,Brace knows all about him.And what do you think he is?"Miss Nellie took upon herself a few extra degrees of cold,and didn't know.
"An Injin!Yes,an out-and-out Cherokee.You see he calls himself Dorman--Low Dorman.That's only French for 'Sleeping Water,'his Injin name!--'Low Dorman.'""You mean 'L'Eau Dormante,'"said Nellie.
"That's what I said.The chief called him 'Sleeping Water'when he was a boy,and one of them French Canadian trappers translated it into French when he brought him to California to school.But he's an Injin,sure.No wonder he prefers to live in the woods.""Well?"said Nellie.
"Well,"echoed her father impatiently,"he's an Injin,I tell you,and you can't of course have anything to do with him.He mustn't come here again.""But you forget,"said Nellie imperturbably,"that it was you who invited him here,and were so much exercised over him.You remember you introduced him to the Bishop and those Eastern clergymen as a magnificent specimen of a young Californian.You forget what an occasion you made of his coming to church on Sunday,and how you made him come in his buckskin shirt and walk down the street with you after service!""Yes,yes,"said the Rev.Mr.Wynn,hurriedly.
"And,"continued Nellie carelessly,"how you made us sing out of the same book 'Children of our Father's Fold,'and how you preached at him until he actually got a color!""Yes,"said her father;"but it wasn't known then he was an Injin,and they are frightfully unpopular with those Southwestern men among whom we labor.Indeed,I am quite convinced that when Brace said 'the only good Indian was a dead one'his expression,though extravagant,perhaps,really voiced the sentiments of the majority.It would be only kindness to the unfortunate creature to warn him from exposing himself to their rude but conscientious antagonism.""Perhaps you'd better tell him,then,in your own popular way,which they all seem to understand so well,"responded the daughter.Mr.Wynn cast a quick glance at her,but there was no trace of irony in her face--nothing but a half-bored indifference as she walked toward the window.
"I will go with you to the coach-office,"said her father,who generally gave these simple paternal duties the pronounced character of a public Christian example.
"It's hardly worth while,"replied Miss Nellie."I've to stop at the Watsons',at the foot of the hill,and ask after the baby;so I shall go on to the Crossing and pick up the coach when it passes.Good-by."Nevertheless,as soon as Nellie had departed,the Rev.Mr.Wynn proceeded to the coach-office,and publicly grasping the hand of Yuba Bill,the driver,commended his daughter to his care in the name of the universal brotherhood of man and the Christian fraternity.Carried away by his heartiness,he forgot his previous caution,and confided to the expressman Miss Nellie's regrets that she was not to have that gentleman's company.The result was that Miss Nellie found the coach with its passengers awaiting her with uplifted hats and wreathed smiles at the Crossing,and the box seat (from which an unfortunate stranger,who had expensively paid for it,had been summarily ejected)at her service beside Yuba Bill,who had thrown away his cigar and donned a new pair of buckskin gloves to do her honor.But a more serious result to the young beauty was the effect of the Rev.Mr.
