"I'm sorry," said this gentle boniface, "that I could not reserve
better rooms for you--for there are some choice views from some
locations. I had a corner suite saved for your party, a suite I
consider the most desirable in the hotel; but an eccentric individual
arrived yesterday who demanded the entire suite, and I had to let him
have it. He will not stay long, and as soon as he goes you shall have
the rooms."

"Who is he?" asked Uncle John.

"A rich miner; a most melancholy and peculiar person, by the way,"
replied landlord Ross. "I believe his name is Jones."

Mr. Merrick started.

"Jones, and a miner?" he said. "What's his other name--Anson?"

"We'll look and see," replied Mr. Ross, turning to the hotel register.
"No; not Anson. He is registered as C.B. Jones, of Boston."

"Oh; that's not the Jones at all," said Uncle John, disappointed.

"It's the Jones who is our guest," replied the landlord, smiling.

Meantime the three girls had gone for a walk along the coast. The
beach is beautiful at Coronado. There is a high sea wall of rock, and
the path runs along its edge almost the length of the promontory. The
rocks are sloping, however, and it is not very difficult to climb down
them to where the waves break against the wall.