more befitting a fine gentleman than his own hair,
even though the latter were thick and bright. He
said tentatively:

"I notice these Californians still wear the hair
long; and with their gay ribbons and showy hats
look much better no doubt than if they followed a
fashion of which it would seem they had not heard
--and perhaps do not admire. I ventured to pack
two of your excellency's wigs when we were leav-
ing St. Petersburg--"

"Good heavens, no!" cried Rezanov, rising to his
feet and casting a last impatient glance at the mir-
ror. "When a man has escaped from a furnace
does he run back of his own accord? My brain
would cook under a wig in this climate, and I need
all my wits--for more reasons than one." And he
went up on deck.

There, while awaiting his horses and escort, he
had another glimpse of the happy Arcadian life of
the Californians. Over the sand hills through
which he had floundered twice that day rode young
men in gala attire, a maiden, her attire as brilliant
as the sunset along the western summits, on the
saddle before them. These saddles were heavy with
silver, the blanket beneath was embroidered with
both silver and gold. Gay light laughter floated out
on the cool evening breeze to the little ship in the