N

OTHING had happened at Fort Carlin, Wyoming, for many moons. They were peace times, and even the Indians were at rest. Under these circumstances anything was welcome that would break the deadly monotony of life, and a choice bit of scandal answered the purpose. The story ran that a certain Indian maiden, Minola by name, young, pretty, and a protegée of some of the ladies. of the fort, had been seen to enter the house of one of the most correct and exemplary of the young bachelor lieutenants soon after reveille. She had remained some time, the gossips averred, and had then been seen to emerge again, the lieutenant himself opening the door to let her out.

"I shall never be at home to him again, that's sure!" said the daughter of the commanding officer, Miss Cook, who had opinions of her own.

Nor I!" "Nor I!" chimed in a chorus of indignant women accustomed to take their cues from "the leading lady."

One girl only ventured to differ from the majority in condemning Lieutenant Smith. This was Miss Maynard, a fair Marylander, who was visiting friends at Fort Carlin, and whose opinion was regarded lightly, as that of a new-comer unversed in military ways. When she professed her belief in a plausible explanation, honorable to the officer, for the early morning visit, the other girls ventured to hint she was prejudiced; that the memory of a drive, a horseback ride, and “a shady nook, a babbling brook," at a picnic, where she had been monopolized by Lieutenant Smith, had warped her judgment.

TIDEN FOUNDATIONS.

ride. The answer was unsatisfactory and the questioner reported the officer's manner as evasive and suspicious. She spread the news that he was probably going to return Minola's call, and as his saddle-bags seemed full and his saddle was packed, no doubt he meant to stay at the agency at least one night.

Meanwhile Lieutenant Smith, seemingly unaware of, or indifferent to, his uncharitable critics, went his way, if not rejoicing, at least composed and unruffled. At about one o'clock in the afternoon of the day when Minola made her early morning call, he was seen to mount his horse and ride off in the direction of the Indian Agency, ten miles distant. Before starting he had been questioned by one of his acquaintances, whose curiosity could not be restrained as to the object of his

Once out of the fort, the Lieutenant put spurs to his horse, and his expression became watchful and alert. Five miles from the post was a cañon; the agency lay beyond it. Into this cañon he rode, looking anxiously ahead. He had gone half-way through the pass and saw the open country beyond, when he descried a bowlder lying in the middle of the road. It would have effectually barred the way to a wagon, but he crowded his horse around it. As he was doing so he heard a pistol-shot fired at him from above,then another. He was not hit, and now the obstruction lay beyond him, and he urged his horse into a run. His saddlebags were heavy, and he knew he could not. keep up that gait very long on the rough trail. He drew his six-shooter, and halfturning in his saddle, he fired at a man whom he could see in close pursuit. The man reeled in his saddle and fell to the ground, while the riderless horse galloped off.

More bandits were behind and one, with the practiced aim of the frontiersman, fired and struck the officer's horse in the shoulder. The animal stumbled and fell to the ground, and Lieutenant Smith jumped out from under him and stood, pistol in hand, ready to defend his treasure for his saddle-bags were laden with gold with his last drop of blood.

The pursuing bandits were close' upon him now, when suddenly the sharp report of a Winchester, fired from the direction of the Indian agency, checked the further progress of the leader, who fell, shot through the heart. The remaining bandits, remembering that "he who fights and runs away will live to fight another day," panic-stricken, turned and fled, supposing that the Lieutenant had re-enforcements close at hand.

Such indeed proved to be the case, and although the rescuing party was not numerous, its aim was sure and its heart was true. Minola, the Indian girl, had fired the last shot, which had undoubtedly saved the young officer's life. She now hastened toward him, transferred the money-bags to her pony, and together they delivered the gold into the hands of the Indian Agent.

When Lieutenant Smith rode back to Fort Carlin, his late detractors, who had heard of his exploit, were anxious to welcome him back as a hero and atone for their hasty judgment.

did n't you tell me, papa, that Mr. Smith had been warned by Minola that the paymaster's escort would be held up? We girls did n't know why Minola went to see him, and of course could n't guess that he volunteered to carry the gold to the agency on his horse in place of the paymaster in his wagon."

But the Colonel was a soldier and a man of few words and only laughed for an

answer.

The latest gossip from Fort Carlin whispers that Lieutenant Smith will soon enter the ranks of benedicts. Unfortunately my informant forgot to say whether

IN

IN THE story of Ramona is described a delightful old Spanish home, such as in real life is seldom seen. My visit to this typical old home of sunny Spain will ever be one of the sweet and sacred memories of my life; with its fortress-like appearance, adobe walls, and redtiled roof, its vine-embowered verandas, its wealth of fruit-bearing trees, and above all, the air of ease and quiet about all its appointments, it seems to have been transplanted from that land of romance and song to our own Southland, bringing with it the manners and customs that have made the mother country noted for the grace and charm of its women and the chivalry of its men.

This quiet home, on the banks of the

Santa Clara River, with its chain of hills, mountains, interlacing valleys, and smoothflowing streams, is like a picture of Acadia, peopled as it is with these quiet Spanish folk,

Whose lives glide on like the rivers that water the woodland, Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven.

Noted as Mrs. Jackson has made it, through the charm she has thrown over it in her romance, and the little world she has created within its walls, no less interesting does it seem to us with its real living characters. Here to-day they cherish and preserve this home of the Del Valles, with naught to disturb or blend with its