and inconsistent a culmination to the beautiful scenery they had passed
through, so hopeless and imbecile a conclusion to the preparation of
that long picturesque journey, with its glimpses of sylvan and pastoral
glades and canyons, that, as the coach swept down the last incline,
and the remorseless monotony of the dead level spread out before them,
furrowed by ditches and indented by pits, under cover of shielding their
cheeks from the impalpable dust that rose beneath the plunging
wheels, they buried their faces in their handkerchiefs, to hide a few
half-hysterical tears. Happily, their father, completely absorbed in a
practical, scientific, and approving contemplation of the topography
and material resources of the scene of his future labors, had no time
to notice their defection. It was not until the stage drew up before
a rambling tenement bearing the inscription, "Hotel and Stage Office,"
that he became fully aware of it.

"We can't stop HERE, papa," said Christie Carr decidedly, with a shake
of her pretty head. "You can't expect that."

Mr. Carr looked up at the building; it was half grocery, half saloon.
Whatever other accommodations it contained must have been hidden in the
rear, as the flat roof above was almost level with the raftered ceiling
of the shop.

"Certainly," he replied hurriedly; "we'll see to that in a moment. I
dare say it's all right. I told Fairfax we were coming. Somebody ought
to be here."

"But they're not," said Jessie Carr indignantly; "and the few that were
here scampered off like rabbits to their burrows as soon as they saw us
get down."