The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Hidden Cabin: a pathetic story in condensed form

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: The Hidden Cabin: a pathetic story in condensed form

Author: David W. Edwards

Release date: August 8, 2021 [eBook #66008]

Language: English

Credits: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HIDDEN CABIN: A PATHETIC STORY IN CONDENSED FORM ***
[Image of the book's cover is unavailable.]

THE HIDDEN CABIN

THE
Hidden Cabin
A PATHETIC STORY

IN CONDENSED
FORM

BY
DAVID W. EDWARDS

AUTHOR OF “BILLY BIRDSALL,”
“UP THE GRADE,” ETC.

COVER DESIGN, ZOLA AND ZIMBO
BY DRURY VICTOR HAIGHT


LOS ANGELES
COMMERCIAL PRINTING HOUSE
PUBLISHERS
1909


Copyright, 1909
by
David W. Edwards

ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED

THE STORY.

The Legend of Palomar.
The Hidden Cabin.
Cedric Vaughn.
Homer Lee.
Dora Lee.
Lola Vail.
The Voyage.
The Mines.
Ben Rubideaux.
The Wedding.
The Mystic Token.
The Stolen Child.
The Wanderers.
In The Mountains.
“Peg Leg, The Miner.”
Gilbert.
Zola And Zimbo.
The Midnight Ride.
Gilbert’s Journey.
Conclusion.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Palomar Mountain is one of the grandest natural attractions of Southern California. It is more than a mile in height. From its lofty “look-outs” the beautiful bay of San Diego may be descried, and also the distant islands of Santa Catalina and San Clemente. It abounds with gushing springs, richly timbered table-lands, deep, rocky canyons, and rugged peaks. It is one of the favorite resorts of the writer, who has spent many pleasant hours in camp near the mysterious hidden cabin above the “snow white clouds,” in company with his friend, the Rev. John L. Pitner, D. D., to whom these lines are inscribed.

D. W. E.

BIMINI SPRINGS LOS ANGELES, CAL.

{11}

PALOMAR.

A mile above the ocean’s level brim
 Tow’rs Palomar, the monarch of the range.
 Along its western base are frostless hills
 With verdure crowned, and valleys green, where bloom
 And fruitage fill the air with sweet perfume.
 Green pastures, rich with herbage and bright flowers,
 Bedeck the eastern slopes which fall away
 A lone and weary desert land to meet;
 To meet a lone and weary desert land—
 A rich and rocky land where mines of wealth
 Have slumbered long beneath its arid wastes.
 So stands in majesty this mountain grand
 Between the desert and the western sea.
 From ocean’s heaving breast, she upward sent
 A humid vapor, in the skies to meet
 And woo the softer breezes that ascend
 From off the heated earth at eventide.
 A gentle zephyr was at play among
 The cacti beds and yuccas tall, that lift
 Their spiny leaves and tufted fronds above
 The burning sands; she softly breathed a sigh,{12}
 And floating upward in the milky way
 She met and wed the vapor from the sea;
 For each had found a true affinity.
 The moon withdrew and hid her face behind
 The distant isles; and from the blushing east
 A ray of sunlight came and kissed the bride.
Together in the skies, these twain have wrought
 A mantle, soft as down, of spotless white;
 And often as the evening twilight falls,
 Or dewy morning sheds her purple tints,
 They come and spread it over Palomar.
 Thus runs the legend which has oft been told;
 And which the Indian maiden whispers low
 When snow white clouds hang over Palomar.

THE HIDDEN CABIN.

The rugged sides of Palomar are deep
 With canyons cleft, where raging floods have made
 Their downward path and held their course unchained.
 Beyond the eagle’s nest and rocky crag,
 Where giant arborvitaes throw their plumes
 Athwart the sky; and crystal waters cold{13}
 And pure, come sparkling from a mountain spring;
 By bending boughs and tangled vines shut out
 From view, the hidden cabin stood; and there
 Today it stands, and there has stood unkept,
 In mystery wrapped, a hundred years or more
 Since its last tenant left it there alone.
 It stands where it was builded long ago;
 Yet not the same as in the days of old,
 For long disuse and winters’ storms and rain
 Have left their mark; but still enough remains
 To show that in the hands of him who built
 No joiner’s tools were held; divested of
 All metals with sharp edge save only axe
 And auger, which he plied with master hand
 To hew the timbers smooth, and cut and fit
 The doors and frames; and fitting, through these sent
 The auger’s teeth to clear the way for pins
 Of wood with which he made all fast and strong.
A strange, pathetic story centers round
 This lonely spot; the story of a true
 And faithful soul who counted life best spent
 By those who strive to crucify the flesh,
 And emulate—as best poor mortal may{14}—
 The life of Him who lived and died for love;
 For love of those who loved and hated Him.

CEDRIC VAUGHN.

Classmates were Cedric Vaughn and Homer Lee.
 Cedric from the southland came, and in his
 Veins there flowed—tho’ mixed with Anglo-Saxon—
 A trace of Montezuma blood, the same
 As that of those who met with sharpened steel
 The hosts of Cortez on the bloody plains
 Of Otumba. In the lightsome morning
 Of his happy youth, he saw that twain who
 Gave him life and love, with all his kindred,
 By savage hands struck down! struck down and flung
 Amid the blazing ruins of their home.
 With superhuman strength he stood beside
 His father ’till he fell; and then fought on
 Like wounded tiger, grimly courting death.
Filled with pagan superstition, that wild
 Robber chief—when he saw brave Cedric’s blade
 Cleave skull and flesh, and break like slender reeds
 The spears of those who came upon him three{15}
 To one—thought him protected by the gods
 And made immune to blows of mortal hands;
 Stricken with fear lest in revengeful wrath
 They turn on him, fell on his spear and died.
 Then the others fled and Cedric’s life was
 Spared. He, wand’ring aimless o’er the waste
 Scarce knowing where his footsteps led, came where
 Terraced hills sloped to a narrow harbor.
 He knew the place and knew his father had
 Been well known there and much respected for
 Fair dealing, when in trade he bought and sold;
 Not many days before, they together
 Had come down this dusty trail and returned
 With family stores. Sadly he walked on, his
 Poor heart bleeding at remembrance of those
 Happy hours now gone, when suddenly he
 Came upon the spot where they had rested
 By a spring and led their horses down;
 Here lay the branch his father’s hand had used
 To urge the horses on; and half trodden
 In the mold, and scattered round, the paper
 Which he had seen his mother’s loving hands
 Wrap ’round the food prepared by her for them.
 Now, for the first, he realized his loss.{16}
Upon the cold, damp bosom of the earth
 He laid his head and wept—alone! Beneath
 The bending skies and sighing boughs; no loving
 Hand upon his brow; no ear to hear the
 Groans that shook his iron frame; nor knew he
 How near in that dark hour the heart of Him
 Who suffered in the garden all alone
 Was bending down to his. The soul may weep
 And still the flesh demand its own: Too proud
 To eat the bread of charity, he sought
 And found employment in the mines. He worked
 With heavy heart, crushed for a time by dark
 Despair; and giving way to hunger for
 Revenge, he well-nigh fell; but when at last
 A kindly light broke thro’ the gloom of his
 Black night of grief, and he could say, “Thy will
 Be done”; in him awoke new life and hope
 And high resolve to make of his own life
 A memorial to them; and to strive
 To reach the measure of their highest hope.
 To this end he hoarded all his earnings,
 And with the salvage from the wreck of their
 Estate, went bravely forth, determined to
 Fulfill their wish so oft expres’d that he{17}
 Might go away to school—they named the school—
 The greatest in the northland, whence they hoped
 To see him come one day with cultured mind.

HOMER LEE.

Homer Lee was born and reared upon the
 Sacred ground where beacon lights were kindl’d
 On the hills, before the war that broke the
 Chains of monarchy and set this nation
 Free. His father owned ships and lands and
 Merchandise; and the son—the eldest born—
 Had never known a wish ungratified.
 Albeit, he was not puffed up, or vain,
 Or churlish by over-much indulgence,
 For he was nurtured in the Quaker faith,
 And early taught to draw the line ’twixt
 Right and wrong; and measure men by what
 They are and not by what they have or say.
 Unlike in all respects were Cedric Vaughn
 And Homer Lee, save in those noble traits
 Of character which make men strong and brave
 And true. Homer, lighter built and younger,{18}
 But noted for his prowess—when he met
 The tall, dark, princely stranger from the south,
 As by the power of some magnetic chain
 Was strangely drawn to him. Touched by the kind
 Demeanor of this fair-haired, happy youth,
 Cedric’s heart went out to him. So, as the
 Years went by, between them grew a friendship
 Strong as that of Pythias and his friend.

DORA LEE.

Homer’s sister, Dora Lee, rejoiced at
 Their success, or wept when disappointment
 Crossed their path. Likewise, she shared in all their
 Happy leisure hours, when sailing on the
 Bay, or riding horseback o’er the hills. And
 When their united strength their pennant saved,
 The campus rang with shouts of victory
 And plaudits for the heroes of the day,
 She wept for joy. Dora Lee loved Cedric,
 But he knew it not nor dreamed that she whose
 Faithful heart could never love but one,
 Had consecrated that one love to him.{19}
Their college days were drawing to a close;
 And nearer came the day when these two friends
 Must each go out to meet the sterner life—
 The one to fill the place prepared for him;
 The other, empty handed and alone.
 Their intercourse—to each a priceless boon—
 Had ne’er been marred by shadow of distrust.
 A diamond careless thrown upon the sand,
 May change the gentle current of a stream.
 And so it chanced the even current of
 Their fellowship was broken.

LOLA VAIL.

Lola Vail,—
 Her father, a rich planter, owned a vast
 Estate upon the banks of that great stream
 Which gathers up the waters of the land
 And sweeps them onward to the gulf. Half way
 To that strange southern land whence Cedric came
 Was Lola born—a schoolmate, friend and guest
 Of Dora Lee, and much like her; or as she
 Would appear with three more years of summers’
 Sun to paint with ruddier glow the bloom of{20}
 Health upon her cheek, and tint with deeper
 Gold her ample braids; in purity of
 Thought and loyalty, they also were alike.
Lola’s mother died when she was young, and
 Her father, bringing home a Creole wife,
 Unwittingly neglected her; and thought
 His duty done when he provided for
 The child a nurse—an aged Octoroon—
 A pious soul, who gave to Lola all
 The love she knew in her sweet childhood life;
 And filled the tender mind with holy thoughts
 And pure. And Lola daily gathered flowers
 And, weeping, laid them on her mother’s grave.
 When she was older grown, her father took
 Her to the north, she and her faithful nurse,
 To bide until she grew to womanhood.
 Her education finished, her father
 Called her home, but she begged to tarry, yet
 A few more days and visit with her friend.
Thus it chanced to come about that Cedric
 Vaughn and Homer Lee met sweet Lola Vail
 And loved her, each in his own way—Cedric,{21}
 With all the fervor of his sincere soul—
 And Homer worship’d her, forgetting for
 The time his own betrothed. Cedric told her
 All, she sitting by his side in shady
 Bower, upon a wooded isle, their boat drawn
 Up below upon the pebbly beach. He
 Told the story of his life, as one a
 Painful duty would perform. “She must know
 The truth.” And keeping nothing back, he told
 Her of his birth and lineage—which was
 Equal to her own—his loss of home and
 Wealth; his lofty aspirations; high hopes
 Now partly realized, though penniless;
 But he was going back to that same land
 Where he had delved; and there would he employ
 The knowledge gained of placer, drift and ledge,
 And engineering, to locate and bring
 Forth rich treasure from the earth, and in a
 Few short years would he return with wealth and
 Build a costly home for her in some great
 City,—she might name the place. “Could she love
 Him? Would she wait for him?” She answered not
 By spoken word, but when she lifted her
 Fond eyes to his, he read the sweet response.{22}
By his strong arms encircled tenderly,
 Her head upon his breast, she wept for joy;
 And speaking through her tears: “Oh, leave me not,
 But let me share your lot whate’er it be—
 A palace or a cot—I would leave all
 The world, my Cedric, dear, and go with thee.”
 But Cedric kindly told her of the place,
 Its roughness, the peons there; and frankly,
 But perhaps unwise, he spoke of dangers
 From the wild bandits. It was no place for
 One so sweet and gentle as his own dear
 Lola; it were better she obey her
 Father’s call. That day, a week, the ship that
 He expected her to take, would leave that
 Port. It would not be long; he would stop there
 On his way and see her father, speak to
 Him, as man to man should speak, all fair and
 honorable. The wisdom of his speech
 She saw and cheerful yielded to his will.
 With fervid kiss their pledges sealed, they sat
 In sweet converse till lengthening shadows called;
 Then spread their sail and shoreward set the prow
 Of their light craft. With rosy finger tips
 She swept the strings of her guitar and sang:{23}
“What fairy-like music steals over the sea,
 Entrancing the senses with calm melody?
 ’Tis the voice of the mermaid as she floats o’er the main,
 And mingles her notes with the gondolier’s strain.”
Homer and his sister, waiting at the
 Mooring, by their merry laughter and love
 Glances, half concealed, each read their secret;
 And reading, saw the fading shadows of
 Their hope. Each concealed the pang; and laughing,
 Teased the truants for their tardiness. Then
 Timidly the lovers made confession.
 “And we will pray,” said Homer, “that to you
 Be given the fullness of all earthly
 Joy, and then the sweetest bliss of heaven.”
Lola left them; and the three in silence
 Watched her waving from the deck; and saw the
 Good ship fading in the offing vanish,
 Where bending skies come down to meet the sea;
 Then sadly turned away—each heart, wounded
 By a shaft from Cupid’s bow; arrows from
 His quiver, unaimed, ofttimes fly amiss.
Too high born and proud were Dora Lee
 And Homer to harbor in their minds dark{24}
 Jealousies, or thoughts unkind; but Homer
 Was disconsolate; and Dora, cheering,
 Said: “You surely will forget your grief; and
 Going back to your first love will marry
 Her and love her evermore; for no true
 Heart can ever love but one.” So it was
 Her prophecy came true. Dora loved with
 Woman’s constancy; and womanlike found
 Comfort in the secret hope (while wishing
 Naught but good for Lola Vail), the idle hope
 That she one day would marry Cedric Vaughn.
If in the spirit world departed ones
 Can see with joy a loved one plodding on,
 And faithful to the end, achieve at last
 The worthy object sought, then there was joy
 Above when Cedric led the class and gained
 The highest meed of praise for work well done.
Cedric saw, or tho’t he saw, a shorter
 Way to competence than any of the
 Kindly offers of a place which, without
 His asking, came to him; a great law firm
 Wanted him; a professorship in that{25}
 Same college he could have; in the counting
 House and busy marts of commerce there were
 Many op’nings for one as he so well
 Endowed and popular. He declined them
 All; and yet so gracefully, with thanks, that
 They were urged upon him all the more; but
 He had fixed his mind on going back, see
 Lola on his way, then hasten on to
 Carry out his plans; for each hour improved
 Would bring them nearer to their wedding day.
On the morn of his departure, a throng
 Of gay young friends came, bearing tokens of
 Their friendship, souvenirs of college days,
 And bidding him God-speed upon his way.
 He keenly felt the sting of parting with
 His friends; but when he came to say good-bye
 To Homer, that was hardest of it all.
 When Dora gave the parting hand, and in
 Her large blue eyes he saw the gathering
 Tears, that tell-tale look of love she fain would
 Hide; that yearning look of hopeless love
 Like arrow pierced his soul with deep regret,
 And haunted him thro’ all the coming years.
 {26}

THE VOYAGE.

With varying winds the good ship sailed thro’
 Summer sea. At times translucent clouds were
 Flung across its way like twilight mists, and
 Then anon the sun burst forth. With lowering
 Winds and listless sail they drifted dreamily
 Beneath the turquoise skies. When at night the
 Mellow moonlight made its path across the
 Waves, Cedric paced the deck impatiently;
 And in his restless dreams he saw the face
 And form of Lola; felt her soft breath on
 His cheek, her arms entwined about his neck
 In heavenly bliss.
At some port discharging
 Freightage, the ship would often linger for
 A day, and those on board would wander thro’
 The town. Once they saw a vessel that plied
 Between that southern coast and Africa
 Unload its cargo—human souls, who had
 Been stolen from their home and brought to this
 Free country to be sold to servitude.
 The buyers, richly dressed and bedecked with
 Diamonds, stood like drovers waiting at the{27}
 Cattle pens to buy. One gentleman with
 Pistol at his belt, true type of southern
 Cavalier, took a mother from her child;
 Cedric pled with him to buy the baby
 Too. He was answered by an insult, and
 Derided for his pity for “the brat.”
 Unmindful of the insult to himself,
 He persevered and gained consent to buy
 The child and place it in its mother’s arms.
Off the south-most coast they saw the isle,
 The magic isle of Bimini, where the
 Indian sages told De Leon he
 Would find the fountain of eternal youth.
 Thence onward thro’ the gulf, and near that quaint
 Old Crescent City, he found his darling
 Lola. Near the city in a lovely
 Urban villa on the rich plantation
 Of her father, where the oleanders
 Bloom, and palmettos wave their fronded plumes,
 They met once more. Her father, Colonel Vail,
 Was absent; would return in one week more.
 Six days, six blissful days, from early morn
 Till eve, the lovers wandered ’mid the scenes{28}
 To her, so rich in hallowed memories.
Sitting by her mother’s grave, she told him
 How unlike the days of old she found her
 Home. Her father, with advancing age and
 Growing wealth, had changed; become more like the
 One who filled her mother’s place, purse-proud and
 Haughty. He had hinted at a union
 That he desired for her, and she feared he
 Would not look with favor on her Cedric.
Like as the vine twines with the sturdy oak
 And clings the stronger when the north wind blows,
 So she, as moved by some foreboding, clung
 To him, and begged that she might go with him
 To that far land; and coaxingly she said:
 “Who will spread the table for my Cedric?
 Or smooth his pillow? Or if mishap befall,
 Nurse him back to health? If he goes alone,
 I ne’er shall look upon his face again.”
He kissed away her tears and playfully
 Made light of her misgiving; yet he was
 Sorely tempted, and well-nigh gave way to{29}
 His desire; but that high sense of honor,
 And solicitude for her, gave him the
 Mastery over self. And from that hour
 He never knew a thought of selfishness.
 He soothed her fears; and by words of wisdom,
 (As before) soon brought her judgment into
 Sweet accord with his. But it was agreed
 That if her father answered his request
 With scorn, or treated him unkindly, there
 Would be no angry words. That he would go
 And never ask again. When he returned,
 Would take her as his rightful own; and then
 He held her to his breast, and laid upon
 Her lips what they both well knew might be his
 Farewell kiss. For even then they saw her
 Father’s carriage coming up the drive. When
 They met and she presented her betrothed,
 Cedric recognized the man who bought the
 Slave and would have torn the infant from its
 Mother’s breast. Yet, speaking calmly, told him
 Who he was, whence and why he came; told all
 Manfully; and the Colonel heard him thro’.
Then, with derisive laugh, he taunted him{30}
 For his presumption: “A pauper, begging
 For a queen! Nay, nay! The one who gains my
 Daughter’s hand must have a bank account or
 Property in land or slaves.” The hot blood
 Rushing to his brow, he boldly answered:
 “I go, accepting these conditions, but
 Surely will return.” Then, taking Lola’s
 Hand, said cheerfully: “’Till then, good-bye.” With
 Tearless eyes she proudly looked upon her
 Cedric, and stood as strong and brave as he.

THE MINES.

When Cedric reached that country where precious
 Metals and bright gems, by nature’s cunning
 Hand are tucked away and hidden in the
 Rocks or scattered in the sands, he found a
 Dusky peon—Jose Morales—whom he
 Had known and trusted, and took him with his
 Train of donkeys packed with stores; with miner’s
 Pick and spade and crucible, he bravely
 Plunged into the wilderness. For many
 Long and weary days he sought among the
 Dry Lomitas, sought in vain beneath a{31}
 Tropic sun, lured on by prospects that proved
 Valueless. And when at last he found a
 Vein of quartz that sparkled with the golden
 Grains, he was compelled to leave it there, to
 Wait thro’ long decades for other hands to
 Come with stamp and chemicals to crush the
 Rock and bear away the millions he had
 Found. He working, saw the months pass by, but
 Labored on with Lola ever in his
 Mind. Anon there crept before his sight
 A vision of that peaceful shore where first
 They met,—a cottage home—his Lola with
 A blue-eyed baby kneeling by her side,
 White robed, with golden curls, in attitude
 Of prayer—that evening prayer by mother taught;
 Then he saw the blessings of the simpler,
 Holy life; saw that wealth is least of all.
One day Morales in quest of water
 Sent, returned in great excitement, crying
 “Oro grande, señor! Oro grande!”
 In a deep arroyo in the sands for
 Ages washed by floods from mountain storm,
 Jose had discovered as he said, “much{32}
 Gold.” In cup-like hollows of the rocks by
 Falling waters worn away—in yellow
 Nuggets buried in the sand—he found the
 Glittering fortune they so long had sought.
 This he changed for currency of lighter
 Weight and coin, in that old city where his
 Forbears died; then to the seaport sped, there
 Impatient waited for the ship to come
 And carry him in triumph to his bride.

BEN RUBIDEAUX.

The consul, seeking Cedric, told him he
 Had sent a messenger in search of him
 With letters, and gave him one from Lola,
 Requesting that the messenger be sent.
 Cedric sent Morales to intercept
 The messenger and bring the letters back.
 This the faithful fellow did, and Cedric
 Read them with dismay. Morales saw the
 Troubled look on Cedric’s face and begged to
 Go with him. With his tamales, and his
 Mascal, and being Cedric’s servant, he
 Was satisfied. He cared not for his share;{33}
 Would leave it all with him. Cedric, with real
 Affection, grateful for his faithfulness,
 Told him he might go and evermore abide
 With him.
He read the letters o’er and
 O’er with sinking heart, read Lola’s letters.
 Beginning at the first, he read how proud
 Of him she was when he “so grandly stood
 Before her father, with the bearing of
 A king, and faced him in his wrath;” then of
 Her sad and lonely days when he was gone;
 How her father sought by gentleness to
 Mould her to his will and bring her to forget
 The one she loved. Of the attention paid
 By Simon Blake, her father’s friend and boon
 Companion, the man he wanted her to
 Wed,—a vile, besotted wretch who knew no
 God but gold; she hated gold and wished that
 He might come back poor in all but love and
 Purity of soul, with which no other
 Riches can compare.{34}
This man had urged his
 Suit until she had exhausted all the
 Harmless arts of womanhood to evade
 His coarse advances, praying daily that
 Her Cedric would return; when he boldly
 Claimed her hand, she told him, “No;” he bro’t her
 Father who commanded that she wed him;
 She, helpless in their hands, had pled for time—
 One more year; then, if Cedric had not come,
 Her answer they should have. One day she, in
 An arbor half hidden in the trellis,
 Had heard her father’s overseer, Ben
 Rubideaux, and Simon Blake make bargain
 That for a sum the overseer would watch
 For Cedric and murder him if he should
 Come. She knew he did not fear them all, but
 For her sake, she begged him not to venture
 There. She gave a number in the city
 Where he would find a friend, a lady friend,
 Of hers. It was arranged that she should come
 For her. Then, as his lawful wife, he could
 Defend her and himself, if needs must be.
 ’Twere best that he should come with pistols, armed;
 Ben Rubideaux and Blake were desperate{35}
 And wicked men. She wrote, fearing lest her
 Letters would not be received; since he left,
 She had received no word from him; she knew
 That he would write, but they had come between.

THE WEDDING.

This plan was not to Cedric’s liking for
 He would fain have gone openly and claimed
 His bride, but for her sake he acquiesced,
 And in his servant’s name he took a house,
 A lovely house, in quiet place apart.
 There Lola came, and as the light of slow
 Descending sun proclaimed the dying day,
 And zephyrs laden with the breath of bloom
 And tuneful with the song of mocking bird,
 Were wafted from the sea, then from the mission
 Came the parish priest, and in soft accents
 Of the Spanish tongue, pronounced the holy
 Words that made them one. No other witness
 Than his servant and her friend. And there thro’
 Long and dreamy, blissful days, they passed their
 Honeymoon.{36}
Morales, with his native
 Instinct, saw that danger hovered over
 Cedric; and, unknown to him, he shadowed
 All his steps. One night a messenger in
 Haste came to the door, told Cedric that his
 Servant was in trouble, needed him; he
 Went, not knowing that his faithful Jose
 Shadowed them. When near the water front the
 Stranger fled; and from the cotton bales and
 Freightage piled upon the dock, two ruffians
 Sprang on Cedric. When the light of morning
 Dawned, the lifeless forms of Simon Blake, Ben
 Rubideaux and poor Morales were found
 Lying on the bloody dock.
All night Lola
 Paced the floor in anguish, list’ning for the
 Footsteps that came not. Nor knew she of the
 Tragedy until she read: “Murdered! In the
 Night! Two citizens of high repute shot down!
 But not until one of the murderers
 (A bearded foreigner) was killed by them.
 The other has escaped, but the mob is
 On his track and he will soon be taken.{37}”
 The paper gave a good description of
 Her husband, which she doubted not, was given
 By the man who called for him. If she should
 Speak, it would bring harm to Cedric; he might
 Escape and come to her; so, taking hope,
 With one trusty servant she in hiding
 Waited there. Her friend had gone and no one
 Knew of her abiding place.
The weary
 Weeks and months rolled by; she pined, and passing
 Near the gates of death, awoke to find a
 Blue-eyed baby by her side—the child of
 Cedric’s dreams. The months passed by and still
 No word from Cedric came. She, yielding to
 Her grief and drooping, faded as a flower
 That withering in decadence fades away.
 The rosy seraph sent—so kindly sent—
 From heaven to be the precious idol of
 Her solitude, and his, grew strong and more
 Angelic as the passing days went by.
When the ruffians from the darkness sprang on
 Cedric, with ready shot, the foremost fell;{38}
 But the bludgeon of the other laid him
 Low; then, as the fatal blow was falling,
 Morales coming, threw himself between;
 And in deadly combat grappled with Ben
 Rubideaux. With bowie knives they struggled,
 Each receiving fatal thrusts, nor yielded
 Until weak from loss of blood, they parting
 Fell; Morales’ bowie buried in the
 Heart of Rubideaux. Cedric lay for hours,
 Unconscious; then, his strength returning, he
 Rose, and dazed, bewildered, groped along the
 Frontage, stag’ring like a drunken man; the
 Stevedores thought him one returning from a
 Night’s debauch. He in the early morning,
 Came where a boat was loosening its cables
 From the wharf; and unnoticed, stumbled on
 And fell among the luggage in a swoon.

THE MYSTIC TOKEN.

The boat—bound for the Indies—was well out
 On the gulf before they found and lifted
 Him; nor knew they of the tragedy upon
 The dock, or that he was hunted as a{39}
 Murderer. They finding on his person
 The token of a craft which they reveréd,
 They cared for him and left him safely in
 An island city of the Southern Sea.
 There his brother craftsmen gathering round him,
 Nursing—raised him—raised him as one from the
 Dead. From the “Valley of the Shadows” brought
 Him forth to perfect health and vigor; but
 Alas! the silken cord that erstwhile bound
 Him to the past, was broken! Memory
 Was gone! Nor, with active mind and clear, could
 He recall the past, tell his name or whence
 He came. He strove to lift the veil and look
 Beyond the wall of night that intervened.
 That cruel blow had caused a lesion of
 The brain—a lapse of memory complete.
 As the wire that bears the hidden current
 Broken, swaying in the breeze, connecting
 Sends a gleam across the night, so at times
 Bright gleams of memory, almost taking
 Shape, would light his way; then leaving him in
 Greater darkness, would as quickly fly away.{40}
Gradually came before his sight, as
 Dimly seen thro’ nebulae, the outlines
 Of a form and face came from the misty
 Moonlight of the past. At last, came back to
 Him, that picture which had made the deepest
 Imprint on his mind—his Lola, as he
 Saw her standing by her father’s side. But
 When was this? And where? And who was she?
 By exercise of all the strength of his
 Great will, her name once more came back to him,
 And then her father’s; then the city where
 They lived; and then it was borne in on him
 That she was his betrothed; that he had gone
 To that fair isle to make a home for her.
 Now, having gained the wherewithal, he could
 Go and bring her. With this thought, the flame of
 Love rekindled blazed anew, as clearly
 He remembered those six happy days of
 Love with her—what she said, his promises;
 And now—his hot blood leaping to the call,
 He hastened on his way. Arriving there,
 He straightway went to find her father’s
 Home and claim her as he swore to do the
 Day he left her there. The Colonel met him{41}
 With a scornful smile and said: “So you have
 Come? You may have her, if you wish for such
 As she.” Breaking forth in rage, he cried—with
 Oaths—“Go! Find her at the hospital”—he
 Told the driver where—“Go! Find her with her
 Child of shame; they are good enough for you!
 I care not if she fills a harlot’s grave.”

THE STOLEN CHILD.

Cedric, smitten almost to the death, bade
 The driver go with haste. He found her and
 She, smiling, whispered low: “My Cedric, you
 Have come to meet me. Is this heaven?” then placed
 The baby hand in his and falling back,
 She was indeed in heaven. Cedric, tearless,
 For a moment stood as one struck dumb; then
 Took the baby in his arms. She too young
 To understand, or lisp her mother’s name
 Or his, as though instinctively, she threw
 Her rosy arms about his neck and kissed
 Him. Then confiding, laid her golden curls
 Upon his breast. The nurses, thinking him{42}
 A base deserter, hoping he at least
 Would own the child, and seeing him caress
 It—placed tenderly its costly wrappings
 ’Round, and quickly packed its ample clothing,
 Gave it him. He kissed the marble brow and
 Turning to the one who had the right to
 Speak for all, he inquired about the rites
 And ceremonies of her faith, “Were they
 Performed?” “Yes,” the matron said, “the good priest
 Has been often by her side, left her just
 Before you came; the one who married her.”
He paced the hall and pondered, mystified.
 What he had heard and seen had set his brain
 Awhirl. So she was married! Then to whom?
 Her husband might at any moment come
 And claim his child—claim Lola’s child—he quick
 Resolved to take the babe and give his life
 To her—to care for her, for Lola’s sake;
 For she was Lola’s child, if not his own.
 They must not know that he was not the one
 Who married her. He must not see the priest.
 He, in his frenzy, cast aside all thought
 Of right or wrong—decided he would{43}
 Steal—yea, lie or even die before that
 One who had deserted her should have her
 Child. He gave them gold, and speaking calmly,
 (Falsely, too, as he supposed) said: “Tell them
 Her husband ordered that her last resting
 Place shall be a mausoleum grand, and
 To him you gave the child—the one to whom
 It rightfully belongs; say that he loved
 Her to the last, and would that he had died;
 That she had mourned for him—not he for her.”
 Then, with a farewell kiss, he took the child,
 Believing he was stealing it away.
 The baby clung to him and was content.
But for the child his life had ended there;
 Then there had been no tie to bind, no one
 To love. The past almost a blank, and in
 The future no alluring hope, he fain
 Had snap’d the slender thread of life, to be
 With Lola evermore. Or, had he been
 One of the weaker kind, complaining at
 His fate, he had perchance by slower
 Process, ended all in low debauchery.
 {44}

THE WANDERERS.

But those confiding arms, that baby kiss
 Upon his cheek, sent thro’ the aisles of his
 Great, generous heart, a flood of newborn
 Love. To part with her would be indeed to
 Part with life itself. He, thinking quickly
 And as quickly acting, fled—took the first
 Ship that sailed, nor asking whither it was
 Bound; rejoicing when it cleared the dock and
 Seaward turned its prow. When learning that its
 Course lay to the north, he changed to one bound
 For the South Sea Isles.
Sailing to and fro,
 The changing seasons passed while they upon
 The ocean cruised like wanderers without
 A guide; he thinking only of his charge,
 And where he, in her tender years, the
 Best could care for her. Willing hands he found—
 Mothers’ hands outstretched to take the cherub
 From his arms. She, growing, Cedric saw in
 Her the image of her mother—the same
 Blue eyes and wavy hair which fell about
 Her shoulders; high arching brows and lashes{45}
 Long but darker shaded, like his own. He
 Had thought to call her Lola; but when the
 Stranger asked her name, she lisping answered,
 “Zola,” he left it so.
Tho’ long before
 The day when ox-carts plowed their dusty way
 Across the plains to reach the sun land slopes,
 The Eldorado of the west, he knew
 Of that fair land beside the sunset sea—
 That sunny, southern California.
 There they would go, where none would ever hear
 The story of the stolen, nameless child;
 And where the recreant father ne’er would
 Come. There would he seek and find in sylvan
 Quietude, the sweetest spot where Mother
 Nature reigns and in her lap, among the
 Birds and flowers, would she be reared in spotless
 Purity—educated—taught by him—
 As wise men of the olden times received
 Their learning from the doctors of the law.
Thitherward they sailed; and thro’ the rocky
 Gateways of the cape—tho’ roughly shaken{46}—
 Safely passed; then to the north thro’ calmer
 Waters, borne by Etesian winds, oft-times
 Delayed by traffic at the ports, or on
 A glassy sea becalmed. And once their ship
 Was overtaken by an ugly craft
 That bore the pirates’ flag; and every man
 On board was called to arms; then they were
 Well nigh overwhelmed and taken. Cedric,
 Joining with the crew, fought valiantly. Thro’
 The thickest of the battle, Zola clung
 To him. When they would have taken her below,
 She cried, “Let me stay wiz papa; if he
 Go, zen me go too.” Cedric answered, “Be
 It so; we live or die together.” But
 Their fears were turned to great rejoicing when
 A shot crashed thro’ the pirate craft. They sailed
 Away and left it sinking in the deep.
Cedric, by his bravery and coolness
 In the time of danger, won respect and
 Friendship of officers and crew. When they
 Left him at the mission of the holy
 Padres, on the bay of San Diego,
 Loaded him with costly presents, forced them{47}
 On him, presents for himself and Zola.
 The angelic child had won the hearts of all.
Cedric told the good Franciscan fathers
 He was going northward overland, and
 Joyously he set about preparing
 For the journey, she ever at his side,
 With childish prattle, asking, “What is zis?”
 “What is zat?” and “What for?” He answering
 Cheerfully and evermore explaining—
 Teaching her.
In her sweet companionship
 And the certainty of keeping her, he
 Laid aside his sadness and became as
 Light of heart and happy as herself. At
 Last they were all ready to begin their
 Wild and free nomadic life—a dozen
 Gentle burros, packed with all that they might
 Need for months to come; a tent with costly
 Furs and rugs, and blankets of bright colors
 Bo’t from the Indians, with toys and gaudy
 Trinkets; a snow-white pony, showily
 Equip’d with Spanish bit and bridle,{48}
 Upon its back a basket, sedan-like,
 With crimson canopy, lined with softest
 Silken draperies, for his “Gypsy queen.”
 A princess of the Romany was ne’er
 Provided with such luxuries as she.
In the early morning, long before the
 Ringing of the mission bells, Zola and
 Her strange retinue set forth; the pony,
 With its precious burden, led by Cedric’s
 Hand; then came the white milk goats with tinkling
 Bells; to the sound, the meek-faced burros, trained
 To follow, trailed patiently behind; and
 Then a faithful shepherd dog to keep them
 All in line. They moved by easy stages,
 Stopping often in some shady dell to
 Rest and let their burros feed upon the
 Grassy slopes. Then would Zola gather flowers,
 Or chase the yellow butterflies, with shouts
 Of childish glee that echoed thro’ the glen;
 To him a sweeter music than the chime
 Of great cathedral bells or orchestra.
 {49}

IN THE MOUNTAINS.

They exploring, crossed the great Cuyamaca
 Range, traversed its broad plateaus, and thro’ the
 Silence of its lofty domes and canyons;
 Then beyond, where boiling waters gurgling
 Flowed thro’ Indian villages. They saw
 The waving pines upon the lofty crest
 Of Palomar; and wandering, vainly sought
 Along its base for passage leading to
 Its heights. They often reached an eminence,
 And thought they neared the goal, when overhanging
 Walls of granite turned them back. At last, by
 Persevering, came upon its table-
 Lands; and pressing forward found the place he
 Long had pictured in his mind—the sheltering
 Boughs of giant trees, the gushing fountain,
 Level plot of fertile land below, well
 Watered by the rivulets that trickled
 From the springs. Here he sowed the garden seeds
 And grain; and from the chaparral he bro’t
 The antlered buck and lesser game. The sweets
 The toiling honey bee had stored away,
 Drip’d from the boles of sycamore and oak.
 They happy lived in Nature’s luxury.{50}
Lest in their quietude he might become
 Indifferent or wasteful of the time,
 He took up an ancient system which they
 Faithfully observed thro’ all their years of
 Hermitage—eight hours for labor, eight for
 Rest, and eight for study and improvement
 Of his mind, and teaching Zola.
He was
 The builder of the hidden cabin; for
 Zola it was builded, for her boudoir.
 With loving hands, he axe and auger plied,
 Without compass, square or trestle board,
 But with all the tenderness that ever
 Mother bird provided for her nestling.
 He building, furnished it with draperies—
 Bright Indian blankets, rugs and robes of
 Fur, arranging all as beautiful as
 Tho’ her mother’s spirit hands had guided
 His. Perchance they did. If love be spirit,
 And spirit love—or soul—then such as hers
 Might overleap the balustrades of
 Heaven and find its own; or such unselfish
 Soul as his might rise and view the palace{51}
 Of the skies. He teaching, opened first the
 Book of Nature, and strolled with her among
 The flowers and botanized. Then to the rocks;
 He told her of the slow formations of
 The ages. From the books selected in
 The days when she was cradled on the sea,
 He, in learning, carried her beyond her
 Years.

“PEG LEG, THE MINER.”

They marked the changing moons until a
 Score had glided by and yet had seen no
 Other human face save one—and he, an
 Honest miner whom they found in sorry
 Plight, with broken limb, where he had fallen
 From an overhanging ledge. They succored
 Him until, returned to strength, he rose with
 One limb twisted hopelessly. They made—as
 Best they could—a wooden substitute, and
 Strap’d with buckskin bandage, he soon learned to
 Use it cleverly. Jokingly, he called
 Himself “Peg-leg, the miner.” He told them
 Of a mine that out upon the desert
 He had found, where three large buttes stood side by{52}
 Side. Cedric gave him burros from his herd,
 And packs, and sent him on his way. He came
 Again with well-filled sacks of pellets round
 As shot and black as ebony, which proved
 To be pure gold. He left it there, and leaving,
 Nevermore returned. Miners to this day
 In vain have sought that “Peg-leg Mine,” and those
 Three buttes; and some have left their bones to bleach
 Upon the desert sand. The miner told
 Them of a nearer passage, a hidden
 Trail, that led downward to the valley. They
 Going, tarried there and Cedric sent the
 Indians to the mission for supplies.
Once a cougar sprang across their path with
 Blazing eyes and crouching for a spring; when
 Cedric sent a bullet thro’ its brain; and
 From its den he took a pair of baby
 Mountain lions, made orphans by the shot.
 Zola, pitying, took them home and one,
 Surviving, grew to monstrous size, became
 Obedient to her command, and like
 A faithful watch dog, followed her. She
 Called him Zimbo. Other pets she had—white{53}
 Kids of silken fleece, birds and animals,
 But Zimbo was the monarch of them all.
As the circling years went ’round and she could
 See beyond the golden morning of her
 Sunny life the ripening noonday coming
 On, she longed to see the world beyond her
 Mountain home; but named it not to Cedric.
 With her years she grew more fearless, wild and
 Venturesome. With Zimbo and her rifle,
 She scaled the dizzy heights of rock and crag
 Where condors built their nests, and knew the
 Devious windings of the wild doe’s trail,
 Thro’ manzanita groves and chaparral.
 In a seat of granite, nature fashioned,
 Like a throne, shaded by a giant oak
 Upon a summit looking oceanward,
 She would sit in dreamy mood and watch the
 Silvery line of surf that fringed the far-off
 Fading stretch of blue. Once she saw a sail
 Appear, then slowly vanish in the offing;
 And in the quiet of an early morn,
 She heard the low sweet chime of mission bells.
 {54}

GILBERT.

To that same port where Cedric landed with
 His Zola, others came from distant parts.
 Some came to seek their fortunes, others came
 To buy and till the soil, some to obey
 The inborn instinct of the pioneer.
 One family, leaving all behind, had bro’t
 A sickly child. Rich and prosperous they
 Had been, and with children blessed; but a dread
 Contagion had swept them all away save
 One; and he, left delicate and frail, the
 Idol of their hopes—no other left to
 Keep the family name. From those who best could
 Speak, they learned there was no hope unless it be
 In taking him to that fair, sunny clime.
 They hastened there and gave him for his home
 A quaint old hacienda of the Dons;
 With many leagues of land that lay between
 The mountains and the sea. There amid the
 Orange groves and vineyards, in the freedom
 Of the range where roamed his father’s flocks and
 Herds, young Gilbert soon became a gay young
 Caballero—grew as strong and fearless
 As vaqueros of the range—could twirl the
 Lariat or aim the rifle true as they.{55}
Sunburned, strong and handsome was Gilbert, in
 Showy costume of the Dons, with clanking
 Spurs, gold-mounted trappings on his coal-black
 Leo, ambling thro’ the massive arches
 Of the mission. Señoritas smiled on
 Him; he returned their loving glances. This
 His parents seeing, feared their Angelo
 Blood be mixed with that of darker hue, besought
 Him to return to their old home and there
 To find a bride of his own faith and kind.
 He quieted their fears and said that he
 Was wedded to the mesa and the hills.
 He loved the mountains more than ever
 Bridegroom loved his bride, his heart was free;
 But kind and true and dutiful to them,
 He promised solemnly that he would do
 As they desired before he took a wife;
 For ne’er could he repay the love and care
 By them bestowed on him, their sacrifice.
Foremost in all manly sports, he reckless
 Rode along the beach where foaming breakers
 Lashed the cliffs, fleet-footed Leo dashed between.
 His black horse was known on El Camino
 Real—far beyond the shady groves of{56}
 Monte Vista. He loved the mountains
 And on their bosom laid his head beneath
 The starlit skies, companion of their silence,
 Partaker of their rest. In midnight darkness
 Could he thread the winding Indian trail
 Across the high Cuyamacas, and often
 Had he reached the base of Palomar, and
 Longed to see beyond its frowning granite
 Walls. At last, undaunted, came nearly to
 The summit—came where a deep-walled canyon held
 Him back, there rested. The autumn sun was
 Slowly sinking to the sea and bathed the
 Mountain side in flood of rosy-tinted
 Brilliancy.

ZOLA AND ZIMBO.

Upon a shelving rock near
 By, a being of angelic beauty
 Stood; posed statue-like, her eyes fix’t on the
 Distant sea; one hand spread gracefully
 Across her brow, the other holding back
 A monster mountain lion that crouching
 At her feet, lay watching him; a robe of{57}
 Softest fabric, yielding to the breeze, revealed
 The ample fulness of her shapely form;
 Caught back by strand of sparkling gems, a mass
 Of golden hair fell nearly to her feet.
 She unconscious of his presence, Gilbert
 Stood in speechless adoration, as one
 Entranced,—lost in wonderment. Who was this
 Personage divine? This apparition
 Come to him on that lone mountain side? Was
 She some fairy elf come to bewitch him?
 Some mountain sprite? Or angel from the throne?
 With throbbing temples, arms outstretched, as tho’
 He fain would leap the chasm that lay between,
 Pressed slowly to its edge. The lion rising
 Angrily to spring, she saw him standing
 There and vanished from his sight. Then from the
 Rocks, he heard her voice call softly, sternly:
 “Come, Zimbo, come! Come here!” The spell was
 Broken; by those words in his own tongue
 He knew that she was of the earth—one like
 Himself—and not a native of that land.
Day after day did he return to that
 Same spot and, waiting patient, watch for her;{58}
 Once for a moment saw her on the heights,
 And again, he saw the eyes of that great
 Lion fixed on him and knew that she was
 Near. Like knight of old he scaled the highest
 Peaks and stood upon the spot her feet had
 Pressed. With throbbing pulse and palpitating
 Heart he followed in pursuit. The kindly
 Rocks revealed no tell-tale foot prints where her
 Feet had touched them in her flight. The summer
 Wore away and autumn came again; yet
 She cunningly evaded him. Growing
 Desperate, he traversed all the length and
 Breadth of Palomar; at times he heard her
 Voice in song, heard her speak to Zimbo, she
 Near him; for a precious moment saw her,
 But in finesse she more than equalled him.
Gilbert’s parents missed his merry laugh and
 Jest; marvelled at his absence; feared that
 He was ill and questioned him. He told them
 He was hunting in the mountains, but he
 Mentioned not the object of his quest; misled
 Them by tales of condor’s nest and mountain
 Lion he had seen.{59}
Likewise was Cedric
 Troubled by the change he saw in Zola.
 She loved Gilbert—loved him wildly, madly.
 She had watched him when he knew it not, and
 Knew that he loved her; but frightened at the
 Thought, was minded to keep the secret
 Locked in her own breast and fly from him; so
 Timidly she asked if some day they might
 Go away, and sailing o’er the ocean
 Find another home. Cedric answered, “Yes,
 Some day.” He had long expected this and
 Unknown to her, had in a way, prepared
 Her for the change. From that lone mountain top
 Letters had been sent to shops and houses
 Of the east, and yearly in return had
 Come by Indian carriers from the port
 Clothing for himself and Zola, made to
 Measure sent, and always in their study
 Hours they dressed resplendently, that she might
 Grace a drawing-room and feel at ease—not
 Show that she in wilderness was reared.
 She had mastered music and languages
 In travel needed most, and was withal
 A finished scholar. Not for himself but{60}
 Her, he feared to take her hence—knew full well
 That one so beautiful would soon be wooed,
 And he had never told her of the cloud
 That hung around her birth—the cloud of
 Mystery. As for himself, he loved her
 All the better for it—she blameless—he
 In tenderness postponed the hour; but the
 Longer left undone, he dreading knew that
 One day it must come; in honor must he
 Speak—must tell her, though it break her heart, to
 Know that he was not her father. Often
 Did he wish that in her childhood had he
 Told her all. Yet, in his weakness, promised
 Her that some day they would go: “Yes; some day.”
Gilbert, growing wise in woodcraft and in
 The art of making love, on the farther
 Side went up the mountain, rode Leo up
 The winding trail; Zola watching, waited
 Disappointed while he—galloping o’er the
 Table-land—came on Cedric busy in
 His garden. They with kindly greeting met,
 Conversing, found each the other to his
 Liking. He too manly to dissemble,{61}
 Gilbert came out openly: The one so
 Coy and beautiful, was she his daughter?
 Cedric troubled, sternly answered: “She is mine,
 Indeed, my Zola.” How learned the young man of
 Her presence on the mountain? Had he met
 Her? Had they met clandestinely? Gilbert,
 Speaking plainly, said: Tho’ strangers,
 Yet they knew each other well; he long had
 Worship’d her afar; well she knew and well
 Had she evaded him. Now, at last, had
 He found the one to ask if he might meet and
 Woo her, would he give consent? Cedric saw
 His good intent, sincerity and truth,
 Looked upon him with the feeling of the
 Father for the son. Then like a phantom
 Came that secret terror of his life,—he
 Spoke unlike himself—severe, unkindly.
 “She obeys her father’s will and he would
 Will that she remain unseen, unknown
 To strange intruder. The young man makes bold
 In asking.”
Answered Gilbert, manfully:
 “May not a true heart be emboldened by{62}
 The hope of winning one so beautiful?
 The asking honorable? Perchance the
 Señor has himself in days gone by made
 Like request?” Spoke of his family
 Old and honored, lived on the Gilbert rancho
 In the valley. Would he offer them rebuke
 Unwittingly? Cedric by his words the
 More determined they should never meet, for
 Zola’s sake and his, resolved to flee
 With her, so spoke deceitfully. He must
 Go and wait six days and on the seventh
 Come; if she were there then he might speak with
 Her. Gilbert said respectfully: “’Tis well!
 With such a hope I well may add to my
 Long waiting one more week.” And with a smile
 Of hopefulness, he rode away. Cedric
 Pitying, watched him disappear among
 The ceanothus bloom and drooping boughs.
Zola coming, on her face the look of
 Sadness,—signs of weeping,—Cedric knowing
 Now the secret of the change in her—the
 Absence of the rippling laughter noticed
 In the months gone by—his kind heart melted{63}
 And well-nigh did he repent and tell her
 All, tell Gilbert; but the specter haunting
 Fixed his purpose; she must go or face a
 Deeper sorrow. So, despite his feeling,
 Smilingly and cheerful, told her they would
 Go and sail across the ocean—sail to
 Foreign lands. Thus seeking to beguile and
 Turn her from the tie that bound her heart to
 Palomar, spake he of the people and
 The sights that they would see. Long had they
 Remained in Nature’s parlor; now going,
 Would they view the halls and palaces of
 Splendor they had read about. She smiling
 Sadly, kissed and thanked him for his kindness.
She daily strolled where she had seen the face
 Of Gilbert, vainly waiting with the hope
 That he would come once more—pensively, with
 Tears—and prayed that she might see him once
 Again before she went away. The sun
 From out its saffron-tinted bed burst forth
 And kissed the mountain peaks. She weeping, heard
 The matin song of birds and cooing doves,
 The melody of Nature’s minstrelsy{64}—
 Heard, and yet not heard, for today must she
 Decide among her treasures, which to take
 And which to leave behind. Came Zimbo and
 Her pets for breakfast from her hand, the last
 But one, for early on the morrow she
 Would go. “Shall we never come again to
 This dear spot?” she asked. Cedric feigning
 Cheerfulness, his sadness ill-concealed,—ran
 On assuringly: “Of course, we will return
 And rest from our long journey ’round the world;
 Come, bring your bric-a-brac, my girl, and we
 Will pack it snugly in the cabin, bar
 The doors and leave all safe and sound. We may
 Find Zimbo and the other pets all waiting
 When we come. Cheer up, my darling; dry your
 Tears, for wondrous sights are waiting for those
 Eyes to feast upon.” Thus talking, while he
 Packed her treasures in the hidden cabin.

THE MIDNIGHT RIDE.

Gilbert, sleepless, counted yet the slowly
 Dragging hours—three more days, and then
 The promised one; pondered o’er the words of{65}
 That strange man on Palomar,—words so oft
 Repeated: “If she be here, then you may
 Speak with her.” “If she be here!” Their meaning—
 His intention—dawned upon him. “She will
 Not be there!” In frantic haste he rose and
 Threw his saddle on his fastest horse and
 Sent the spurs along his quivering flanks;
 His adolescent blood in angry throbs,
 His eyes ablaze, he wildly flew across
 The mesa, through the foothills, brave Bonita
 Stag’ring, bore him up the trail. In early
 Morning came to where he spoke with Cedric.
On the slope he saw the tethered burros,
 Well-filled packs and camping equipage near
 By. Then from the curtained maze of trailing
 Vines and boughs, he heard the gurgling waters
 Of the spring and sound of axe. Pressing thro’
 He came upon the hidden cabin, Cedric
 Placing bars before the door, and Zola
 By his side. At sight of him came bounding
 Zimbo, stop’d by Zola’s voice. Then, with head
 Uncovered—bowed, as one in reverential
 Attitude before a shrine—addressed her:{66}
 “We have been acquainted long, if not by
 Spoken word, then by the cords that bind two
 Hearts as one. This man who calls you daughter,
 He may tell you of his promise—explain
 The breaking—doubting not his motive, I
 Believe him kind and true.”
“Calls you daughter!”
 Smote poor Cedric’s soul; a deadly pallor
 Swept across his kindly face. The time had
 Come when he must speak—must tell the secret
 Of his life—her life. Then he recited
 All that he remembered,—Zola’s unknown
 Parentage; his stealing her, and fear that
 She be taken; how he had suffered with
 The dread of making known to her that he
 Was not her father. Speaking, the strong man
 Breaking, wept. Her love and true devotion
 Setting all aside, she sprang to him and
 Clinging, cried: “He is my own dear father!”
 Her dazzling beauty now intensified.
As one enchanted, Gilbert looked upon
 The scene; such filial love revealed a depth{67}
 Of soul beyond his ken; thought he of those
 Who called him son—what they had done for him—
 And of the promise he had made to them.
 Yes, he would die for them; yet in their pride
 Of name and family might they not spurn
 This nameless one? Thus in the balance weighed
 His love for her was satisfied; fortune,
 Name and family were all as naught to
 Him compared with Zola. He proudly asked
 Again to woo the hermit’s daughter and
 Winning, give to her his name.
“No, no,” she
 Answered for the father, “until this cloud
 Is lifted—mystery solved—my name is
 Zola Vaughn.” With her words, a light broke in
 On Gilbert. Joyously he spoke; as he
 Had promised would he go back to the states
 And seek a bride, solve the mystery and
 Return triumphant, claim her—his Zola—
 As his bride. Would take the ship now in
 The harbor, sail tomorrow. Cedric gave
 The name of Colonel Vail, but his memory
 Yielded meagerly of information{68}
 Needed. He well remembered all his life
 Up to the day that he left Lola at
 Her father’s home, and from the day she died,
 The gap between in mystery wrapt, all blank.
 Gilbert, taking Cedric’s hand, said: “From this
 Day your life shall be a pattern for my
 Own. God bless you.” And to Zola: “You are
 Mine whate’er my journey may reveal;” and
 Unmindful of her sweet rebuke, he held
 Her to his breast and kissed her. That life-long
 Fear for her still haunting, Cedric followed
 Him aside and whispered: “The father, if
 He be found, pray name her not to him.” From
 The mountain top she watched him out of sight;
 Then, alone on Palomar, the hermit’s
 Daughter wept.
When their only son went forth
 To seek a bride—to keep his vow—there was
 Great rejoicing at the Gilbert rancho.
 {69}

GILBERT’S JOURNEY.

After journey long and wearisome, he
 Reached the Crescent City and the home of
 Colonel Vail. The aged man now mellowed
 By weight of years, remorseful, mourning
 And alone, received him kindly, answered:
 “Her father’s name was Simon Blake, he was
 Murdered by a Mexican upon the
 Dock. The child, my grandchild’s name was Blake.
 The man who loved my daughter came and found her
 Dying. ’Twas he who took the child away,
 And they were lost at sea.” Gilbert had the
 Story of her life—her name was Zola
 Blake.
With heavy heart he homeward turned, yet
 No less loyal to his Zola. With sad
 Misgivings waited for the coming of
 The ship—long overdue—by stormy sea
 Kept back. Waiting, pondered gloomily; he
 Must go and bear the tidings that would solve
 The mystery of her name, but leave a
 Darker shadow than before. Still would she
 Refuse his name they would go away from{70}
 Palomar. They at the rancho, left so
 Happily, what would he say to them? At
 Last with tattered sail and broken, came
 The ship. He hastening, learned that it would
 Lay at anchor there yet two days more in
 Mending. Hopeless, yet with strange desire to
 Linger there, again he visited the
 Hospital where Zola’s mother died; but
 As before, no voice could answer aught of
 Her; yet caught a thread of hope—an aged
 Priest in near-by parish might remember.
The father heard him,—listened eagerly;
 Then in his book of records found the date
 When Lola Vail and Cedric Vaughn were wed;
 And the christening of her daughter—their child.
 Left with him for Cedric, left by Lola,
 The treasure he had brought from Mexico,
 Lola’s diary, presents he had given,
 And a miniature of Cedric done by
 Her own hand; then to the house where they were
 Married and her resting place. Gilbert took
 The proof to Colonel Vail and together
 They rejoiced. He begged that he would bring his{71}
 Grandchild there when they were wed, and Cedric
 Vaughn, that he might grasp the hand of that true
 Man. Now, to Gilbert’s happy heart attuned
 By hope’s fruition, Nature brought a new
 Glad song. The bird notes rang with sweeter
 Melody—sunshine brighter—bluer skies—
 Even in the tumbling troughs of ocean’s
 Depth, he read the mirrored light of love and
 Joy. Thro’ long and dreary days beneath a
 Tropic sun,—in calm, or fog, or buffeted
 By winds adverse, the good ship sped ’til thro’
 The mild Pacific’s purple haze, Point
 Loma came in view and then, across the
 Mesa, to the hacienda, home again.
With mysterious air, and teasing told,
 Or partly told the story. Yes; he had
 Found a fairy queen and when again the
 Great round moon came o’er the mountain top, she,
 Riding on its silvery beams, would come in
 State,—would come with him—come to the rancho.
 They must “’bide-a-wee” and trusting him, wait
 Patiently. So he left them wondering.
 {72}

CONCLUSION.

To Palomar he flew—told all that he
 Had learned—laid the proof before them—described
 The house where Cedric lived—told of the battle on
 The dock—how Morales died—the bags of
 Gold from Mexico. Thus aided, Cedric
 Woke as from a dream, remembered all; then
 Placing Zola’s hand in his, withdrew to
 Be alone with sacred memories.
Hand
 In hand the lovers blissful roved among
 The crags and overhanging boughs where she
 Had watched unseen, for him. Led him thro’ the
 Brake, in forest solitudes, where lemon
 Lilies nestling grow, and clinging vines
 And nodding ceanothus plumes bedrape
 The foliage in Nature’s millinery.
With love and kisses roamed until the day
 When proudly and triumphant, Gilbert led
 Them thro’ the avenues of spreading palms and
 Vine-clad arches of the hacienda.
 His mother welcomed her with tears of joy,{73}
 “Her daughter”—then met the fathers—met in
 Glad surprise—for Cedric Vaughn and Homer
 Lee stood face to face; again renewed the
 Old time bonds of love and friendship made the
 Stronger.
Then came another presence on
 The scene. Radiant in the ripened bloom
 Of womanhood—as beautiful as in
 The happy days of old—came Dora Lee
 To welcome Cedric Vaughn and Lola’s child.
On the Gilbert rancho (named for him), in the
 Dreamy quiet of a summer eve, while
 Softly chimed the distant mission bells,
 At the hacienda, sweet Zola Vaughn
 And Gilbert Lee were wed. And when the
 Autumn came, and vine, and bough and field gave
 Forth their richest fruitage, and falling leaves
 Betokened ripeness—the sure reward
 Of patient waiting—two faithful souls were
 Joined as one. Again rang forth the silvery
 Chime of wedding bells—old mission bells—that
 Echoed from the gilded cross above its{74}
 Hoary walls, a benediction sweet as
 Incense from its altars.
Long, long ago
 Back to the happy scenes of youth they sailed,
 And left the hidden cabin to decay.
 {75}

A New Book

Up the Grade

BY

DAVID W. EDWARDS

Author of

“The Hidden Cabin,”
“Billy Birdsall,” etc.

A strong romance, natural and absorbing.

It has a special message to young men.

Both young and old will find pleasure and profit in its pages.

The hero is a fine type of manhood.

A healthful and helpful story with inspiration to human betterment.

Illustrated, $1.50
At all Book Stores

The C. M. Clark Publishing Company
BOSTON, MASS.