original condition, and, long after the early spring had laid on its
liberal color in strips, bands, and patches of blue and yellow, the
blossoms of mustard and lupine glistened like wet paint. Nevertheless on
that rich alluvial soil Nature's tears seemed only to fatten the
widow's acres and increase her crops. Her neighbors, too, were equally
prosperous. Yet for six months of the year the recognized expression
of Santa Ana was one of sadness, and for the other six months--of
resignation. Mrs. Wade had yielded early to this influence, as she had
to others, in the weakness of her gentle nature, and partly as it was
more becoming the singular tragedy that had made her a widow.

The late Mr. Wade had been found dead with a bullet through his head in
a secluded part of the road over Heavy Tree Hill in Sonora County. Near
him lay two other bodies, one afterwards identified as John Stubbs, a
resident of the Hill, and probably a traveling companion of Wade's,
and the other a noted desperado and highwayman, still masked, as at the
moment of the attack. Wade and his companion had probably sold their
lives dearly, and against odds, for another mask was found on the
ground, indicating that the attack was not single-handed, and as
Wade's body had not yet been rifled, it was evident that the remaining
highwayman had fled in haste. The hue and cry had been given by
apparently the only one of the travelers who escaped, but as he was
hastening to take the overland coach to the East at the time, his
testimony could not be submitted to the coroner's deliberation. The
facts, however, were sufficiently plain for a verdict of willful murder
against the highwayman, although it was believed that the absent witness
had basely deserted his companion and left him to his fate, or, as was
suggested by others, that he might even have been an accomplice. It
was this circumstance which protracted comment on the incident, and
the sufferings of the widow, far beyond that rapid obliteration which