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“Now, Bobby,” said Yuba Bill, leaning back against the bar, with an air half-paternal, half-managerial, “tell these gents how you came here.”

“By Wellth, Fargoth Expreth,” lisped Bobby.

“Whar from?”

“Wed Hill, Owegon.”

“Red Hill, Oregon? Why, it’s a thousand miles from here,” said a bystander.

“I reckon,” said Yuba Bill coolly, “they kem by stage to Portland, by steamer to ‘Frisco, steamer again to Stockton, and then by stage over the whole line. Allers by Wells, Fargo & Co.’s Express, from agent to agent, and from messenger to messenger. Fact! They ain’t bin tetched or handled by any one but the Kempany’s agents; they ain’t had a line or direction except them checks around their necks! And they’ve wanted for nothin’ else. Why, I’ve carried heaps o’ treasure before, gentlemen, and once a hundred thousand dollars in greenbacks, but I never carried anythin’ that was watched and guarded as them kids! Why, the division inspector at Stockton wanted to go with ’em over the line; but Jim Bracy, the messenger, said he’d call it a reflection on himself and resign, ef they didn’t give ’em to him with the other packages! Ye had a pretty good time, Bobby, didn’t ye? Plenty to eat and drink, eh?”

The two children laughed a little weak laugh, turned each other bashfully around, and then looked up shyly at Yuba Bill and said, “Yeth.”

“Do you know where you are goin’?” asked Starbuck, in a constrained voice.

It was the little girl who answered quickly and eagerly:–

“Yes, to Krissmass and Sandy Claus.”

“To what?” asked Starbuck.

Here the boy interposed with a superior air:–

“Thee meanth Couthin Dick. He’th got Krithmath.”

“Where’s your mother?”

“Dead.”

“And your father?”

“In orthpittal.”

There was a laugh somewhere on the outskirts of the crowd. Every one faced angrily in that direction, but the laugher had disappeared. Yuba Bill, however, sent his voice after him. “Yes, in hospital! Funny, ain’t it?–amoosin’ place! Try it. Step over here, and in five minutes, by the living Hoky, I’ll qualify you for admission, and not charge you a cent!” He stopped, gave a sweeping glance of dissatisfaction around him, and then, leaning back against the bar, beckoned to some one near the door, and said in a disgusted tone, “You tell these galoots how it happened, Bracy. They make me sick!”

Thus appealed to, Bracy, the express messenger, stepped forward in Yuba Bill’s place.

“It’s nothing particular, gentlemen,” he said, with a laugh, “only it seems that some man called Spindler, who lives about here, sent an invitation to the father of these children to bring his family to a Christmas party. It wasn’t a bad sort of thing for Spindler to do, considering that they were his poor relations, though they didn’t know him from Adam,–was it?” He paused; several of the bystanders cleared their throats, but said nothing. “At least,” resumed Bracy, “that’s what the boys up at Red Hill, Oregon, thought, when they heard of it. Well, as the father was in hospital with a broken leg, and the mother only a few weeks dead, the boys thought it mighty rough on these poor kids if they were done out of their fun because they had no one to bring them. The boys couldn’t afford to go themselves, but they got a little money together, and then got the idea of sendin’ ’em by express. Our agent at Red Hill tumbled to the idea at once; but he wouldn’t take any money in advance, and said he would send ’em ‘C. O. D.’ like any other package. And he did, and here they are! That’s all! And now, gentlemen, as I’ve got to deliver them personally to this Spindler, and get his receipt and take off their checks, I reckon we must toddle. Come, Bill, help take ’em up!”

“Hold on!” said a dozen voices. A dozen hands were thrust into a dozen pockets; I grieve to say some were regretfully withdrawn empty, for it was a hard season in Rough and Ready. But the expressman stepped before them, with warning, uplifted hand.