the proceeding stage-coach; and although his stout walking-shoes were
covered with dust, he had neither the habitual slouch and slovenliness
of the tramp, nor the hurried fatigue and growing negligence of an
involuntary wayfarer. His clothes, which were strong and serviceable,
were better fitted for their present usage than the ordinary garments
of the Californian travellers, which were too apt to be either above or
below their requirements. But perhaps the stranger's greatest claim to
originality was the absence of any weapon in his equipment. He carried
neither rifle nor gun in his hand, and his narrow leathern belt was
empty of either knife or revolver.

A half-mile from the main road, which seemed to him to have dropped out
of sight the moment he had left it, he came upon a half-cleared area,
where the hastily-cut stumps of pines, of irregular height, bore an odd
resemblance to the broken columns of some vast and ruined temple. A few
fallen shafts, denuded of their bark and tessellated branches, sawn into
symmetrical cylinders, lay beside the stumps, and lent themselves to the
illusion. But the freshly-cut chips, so damp that they still clung in
layers to each other as they had fallen from the axe, and the stumps
themselves, still wet and viscous from their drained life-blood, were
redolent of an odor of youth and freshness.

The young man seated himself on one of the logs and deeply inhaled the
sharp balsamic fragrance--albeit with a slight cough and a later hurried
respiration. This, and a certain drawn look about his upper lip,
seemed to indicate, in spite of his strength and color, some pulmonary
weakness. He, however, rose after a moment's rest with undiminished
energy and cheerfulness, readjusted his knapsack, and began to lightly
pick his way across the fallen timber. A few paces on, the muffled whir
of machinery became more audible, with the lazy, monotonous command