ef he got his dander up on the subject.  Then, on t’other hand, she’d axed for Major Axel, and the major, ez everybody know’d, was—­well, he wasn’t ’xactly a saint.  Besides, as the major hedn’t come to Happy Rest, nohow, it looked ez if he was dodgin’ her for somethin’.  Where was she stopping?—­up to Old Psalmsinger’s.  Old Psalm bed turned himself out of house an’ home, and bought her a new tea-kettle to boot.  If anybody know’d anybody that wanted to take three to two, send him along.”

A few men called to bet, and bets were exchanged all over the camp, but most of the excitement centred about the storekeeper’s.

Argonauts, pioneers, heroes, or whatever else the early gold-seekers were, they were likewise mortal men, so they competed vigorously for the few blacking-brushes, boxes of blacking, looking-glasses, pocket-combs and neckties which the store contained.  They bought toilet-soap, and borrowed razors; and when they had improved their personal appearance to the fullest possible extent, they stood aimlessly about, like unemployed workmen in the market-place.  Each one, however, took up a position which should rake the only entrance to old Psalmsinger’s tent.

Suddenly, two or three scores of men struck various attitudes, as if to be photographed, and exclaimed in unison: 

“There she is!”

From the tent of old Psalmsinger there had emerged the only member of the gentler sex who had reached Happy Rest.

For only a moment she stood still and looked about her, as if uncertain which way to go; but before she had taken a step, old Psalmsinger raised his voice, and said: 

“I thort it last night, when I only seed her in the moonlight, but I know it now—­she’s a lady, an’ no mistake.  Ef I was a bettin’ man, I’d bet all my dust on it, an’ my farm to hum besides!”

A number of men immediately announced that they would bet, in the speaker’s place, to any amount, and in almost any odds.  For, though old Psalm, by reason of non-participation in any of the drinks, fights, or games with which the camp refreshed itself, was considered a mere nonentity, it was generally admitted that men of his style could tell a lady or a preacher at sight.

The gentle unknown finally started toward the largest group of men, seeing which, several smaller groups massed themselves on the larger with alacrity.

As she neared them, the men could see that she was plainly dressed, but that every article of attire was not only neat but tasteful, and that she had enough grace of form and carriage to display everything to advantage.  A few steps nearer, and she displayed a set of sad but refined features, marred only by an irresolute, purposeless mouth.

Then an ex-reporter from New York turned suddenly to a graceless young scamp who had once been a regular ornament to Broadway, and exclaimed: 

“Louise Mattray, isn’t it?”

“’Tis, by thunder!” replied the young man.  “I knew I’d seen her somewhere.  Wonder what she’s doing here?”