The incident, although not again alluded to, seemed to shadow the rest of their brief afternoon holiday, and the colonel’s manner was unmistakably graver.  But it seemed to the child more affectionate and thoughtful.  He had previously at parting submitted to be kissed by Pansy with stately tolerance and an immediate resumption of his loftiest manner.  On this present leave-taking he laid his straight closely shaven lips on the crown of her dark head, and as her small arms clipped his neck, drew her closely to his side.  The child uttered a slight cry; the colonel hurriedly put his hand to his breast.  Her round cheek had come in contact with his derringer—­a small weapon of beauty and precision—­which invariably nestled also at his side, in his waistcoat pocket.  The child laughed; so did the colonel, but his cheek flushed mightily.

It was four months later, and a turbulent night.  The early rains, driven by a strong southwester against the upper windows of the Magnolia Restaurant, sometimes blurred the radiance of the bright lights within, and the roar of the encompassing pines at times drowned the sounds of song and laughter that rose from a private supper room.  Even the clattering arrival and departure of the Sacramento stage coach, which disturbed the depths below, did not affect these upper revelers.  For Colonel Starbottle, Jack Hamlin, Judge Beeswinger, and Jo Wynyard, assisted by Mesdames Montague, Montmorency, Bellefield, and “Tinky” Clifford, of the “Western Star Combination Troupe,” then performing “on tour,” were holding “high jinks” in the supper room.  The colonel had been of late moody, irritable, and easily upset.  In the words of a friend and admirer, “he was kam only at twelve paces.”

In a lull in the general tumult a Chinese waiter was seen at the door vainly endeavoring to attract the attention of the colonel by signs and interjections.  Mr. Hamlin’s quick eye first caught sight of the intruder.  “Come in, Confucius,” said Jack pleasantly; “you’re a trifle late for a regular turn, but any little thing in the way of knife swallowing”—­

“Lill missee to see connle!  Waitee waitee, bottom side housee,” interrupted the Chinaman, dividing his speech between Jack and the colonel.

“What!  Another lady?  This is no place for me!” said Jack, rising with finely simulated decorum.

“Ask her up,” chirped “Tinky” Clifford.

But at this moment the door opened against the Chinaman, and a small figure in a cloak and hat, dripping with raindrops, glided swiftly in.  After a moment’s half-frightened, half-admiring glance at the party, she darted forward with a little cry and threw her wet arms round the colonel.  The rest of the company, arrested in their festivity, gasped with vague and smiling wonder; the colonel became purple and gasped.  But only for a moment.  The next instant he was on his legs, holding the child with one hand, while with the other he described a stately sweep of the table.