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“Their baggage.”

“Oh!” said the Expressman.

“Yes,” continued Bill. “We’ll hang on to that gal’s little frills and fixin’s until this yer job’s settled, and the ceremony’s over, jest as ef we waz her own father. And, what’s more, young man,” he added, suddenly turning to the Expressman, “YOU’LL express them trunks of hers THROUGH TO SACRAMENTO with your kempany’s labels, and hand her the receipts and checks for them, so she CAN GET ‘EM THERE. That’ll keep HIM outer temptation and the reach o’ the gang, until they get away among white men and civilization again. When your hoary-headed ole grandfather, or, to speak plainer, that partikler old whiskey-soaker known as Yuba Bill, wot sits on this box,” he continued, with a diabolical wink at the Expressman, “waltzes in to pervide for a young couple jest startin’ in life, thar’s nothin’ mean about his style, you bet. He fills the bill every time! Speshul Providences take a back seat when he’s around.”

When the station hotel and straggling settlement of Sugar Pine, now distinct and clear in the growing light, at last rose within rifleshot on the plateau, the buggy suddenly darted swiftly by us, so swiftly that the faces of the two occupants were barely distinguishable as they passed, and keeping the lead by a dozen lengths, reached the door of the hotel. The young girl and her companion leaped down and vanished within as we drew up. They had evidently determined to elude our curiosity, and were successful.

But the material appetites of the passengers, sharpened by the keen mountain air, were more potent than their curiosity, and, as the breakfast-bell rang out at the moment the stage stopped, a majority of them rushed into the dining-room and scrambled for places without giving much heed to the vanished couple or to the Judge and Yuba Bill, who had disappeared also. The through coach to Marysville and Sacramento was likewise waiting, for Sugar Pine was the limit of Bill’s ministration, and the coach which we had just left went no farther. In the course of twenty minutes, however, there was a slight and somewhat ceremonious bustling in the hall and on the veranda, and Yuba Bill and the Judge reappeared. The latter was leading, with some elaboration of manner and detail, the shapely figure of Miss Mullins, and Yuba Bill was accompanying her companion to the buggy. We all rushed to the windows to get a good view of the mysterious stranger and probable ex-brigand whose life was now linked with our fair fellow-passenger. I am afraid, however, that we all participated in a certain impression of disappointment and doubt. Handsome and even cultivated-looking, he assuredly was–young and vigorous in appearance. But there was a certain half-shamed, half-defiant suggestion in his expression, yet coupled with a watchful lurking uneasiness which was not pleasant and hardly becoming in a bridegroom–and the possessor of such a bride. But the frank, joyous, innocent face of Polly Mullins, resplendent with a simple, happy confidence, melted our hearts again, and condoned the fellow’s shortcomings. We waved our hands; I think we would have given three rousing cheers as they drove away if the omnipotent eye of Yuba Bill had not been upon us. It was well, for the next moment we were summoned to the presence of that soft-hearted autocrat.

We found him alone with the Judge in a private sitting-room, standing before a table on which there was a decanter and glasses. As we filed expectantly into the room and the door closed behind us, he cast a glance of hesitating tolerance over the group.

“Gentlemen,” he said slowly, “you was all present at the beginnin’ of a little game this mornin’, and the Judge thar thinks that you oughter be let in at the finish. I don’t see that it’s any of YOUR d—-d business–so to speak; but ez the Judge here allows you’re all in the secret, I’ve called you in to take a partin’ drink to the health of Mr. and Mrs. Charley Byng–ez is now comf’ably off on their bridal tower. What YOU know or what YOU suspects of the young galoot that’s married the gal ain’t worth shucks to anybody, and I wouldn’t give it to a yaller pup to play with, but the Judge thinks you ought all to promise right here that you’ll keep it dark. That’s his opinion. Ez far as my opinion goes, gen’l’men,” continued Bill, with greater blandness and apparent cordiality, “I wanter simply remark, in a keerless, offhand gin’ral way, that ef I ketch any God-forsaken, lop-eared, chuckle-headed blatherin’ idjet airin’ HIS opinion”–