the assurance. On the last day's journey toward Los Angeles, Manuel hardly talked at all. His mind seemed to be filled with sad thoughts which his tongue could not utter.
"It was nightfall when we came in sight of the 'City of the Angels,' and I realized that my long journey of thousands of miles on horseback, from Texas to the shore of the Pacific, would soon be over, and I should, in a few minutes more, be in communication with home, and wife, and friends in San Francisco. Just then Manuel called me back to the rear of the party, and, with quivering voice, told me that I must not think hard of him if he left me immediately on arriving in Los Angeles. His father had not seen him for so long a time that he was in duty bound to seek him out at once. As he said this he held my hand with an eager, trembling grasp in both his own, and looked up, with a longing, mournful expression, into my face. I understood and respected his feeling. He wished to bid me good-by, then and there, when no one was looking at us. I bent down from my saddle, and, throwing his arms around my neck, he kissed me with passionate energy; then, with the exclamation, 'Oh, capitan, capitan, and I am going to see you no more!' released me, commenced sobbing convulsively, stopped it with a strong effort, then rode forward and rejoined the train, without another word.
"I had no sooner arrived in Los Angeles than I went to the express -office and got my letters. Everything was going wrong. My poor wife, whose health had been declining for years, was
