stood a moment, irresolute, and then, in an instant, a wondrous change swept over her. Her arms were around my neck, her head was upon my bosom, and her warm tears falling thick and fast upon my hands. When, at last, she looked up into my face, she said:
"'I thought that I was doing my duty, and had the strength to bear it, and go away alone; but I had not. I cannot part with you again!'
"'Again?' I repeated, inquiringly.
"'Yes,—my true, my only friend,—again! The first time was at Los Angeles. I am the little Manuel whom you found on the Arizona desert, and cared for and protected at the risk of your life. God brought us together then, and now again, for some good purpose; and I will not leave you more! You know all now; and I will be your loving wife, to honor and to serve you always, if you still desire it!'
"She said this with trembling eagerness. In truth I wished it. Then she explained how she had come to deceive us in Arizona, and so long kept up the deception. There was a boy in the party, somewhat older than herself,—she was fourteen then,—and when the Indians charged upon the camp she was sitting in the shade, a little distance away, mending some of his clothing. When she realized that her companions and protectors were no more, and the full horror of her situation broke upon her mind, instinct told her that her chances of safety would be better with whoever she might meet, if she donned the costume of the other sex,—which she lost no time
