in doing. When we reached Los Angeles, she hurried away to meet her father before the secret of her sex should be discovered by others, and succeeded in assuming again her proper costume, without the story becoming known to any one but him. Meeting our mutual friend,—my old Spanish nurse,—she had confided the whole story to her, and she had kept the secret well. God bless her!
"The dog Butcher was hunting for Manuel for two days, and recognized Manuela in his place the moment that he found her. He was with her still; he is with us now. That is his bark,—the noble old fellow! This is my ranch; that is our house, under the madrono-trees up there at the entrance of the cañon yonder; and that is Manuela—God bless her!—coming down to the gateway to meet us, with little Manuel and Manuela by her side. I tell you what it is, old friend, I am just the happiest man in all California, and the most contented, you may believe me!"
I went in with him, and there, in the quiet summer evening, when the whole air was fragrant with the breath of flowers, saw him sitting beneath his own vine and fig-tree, with his bright-eyed, laughing children on his knees; and Manuela, whose fair face was radiant with love and pride, leaning trustingly on his shoulder, as one who knows whence comes the strength which, through all trials, shall sustain her. And I did believe him.
