buckskin cord that he wore about his throat, a rough sort of necklace hung with bears' claws and snake rattles, - and that he never would die until the magic cord was cut. This, after some consultation, was done. Valerio drew his last breath as it parted asunder, and they bore his dead body home in triumph to the Mission. "But he is not forgotten. Stories are still told of his wonderful deeds, and people still go in search of money that he is supposed to have hidden in his cave. The Mexican women who tell suertes, or fortunes, describe the location of the money; but as soon as any one reaches the cave he is warned away by a little old man, who stands in the door and protects the buried treasure. An Indian lad, who was riding over the hills one day with his horse and his dogs, dismounted to search for his moccasin, when he suddenly noticed that the dogs had chased something into a cave in the rocks. He followed, and, peering into the darkness, saw two gleaming eyes. He thrust his knife between them, but struck the air; and, though he had been standing directly in front of the opening, so that nothing could have passed him, yet he heard the clatter of hoofs and the tinkle of spurs, and, turning, saw a mysterious horse man, whose pale face and streaming hair melted into the mountain mist, as it floated down from the purple Santa Ynez peaks into the lap of the vine-covered foot-hills below." "And still they watched the flickering of the blaze, 66 BRAVA!" "Bravissima!" "Splendid, Polly!" exclaimed the boys. "Bell, you're a great author!" "Could n't have done better myself - give you my word!" cried Jack, bowing profoundly to Bell and Polly in turn, and presenting them with bouquets of faded leaves hastily gathered from the ground. 66 Polly covered herself with glory," said the doctor; "and I am very proud of your part in it, too, my little daughter. I have some knowledge of Pancho's capabilities as a narrator, and I think the 'Story of Valerio' owes a good deal to you. Now, who comes next? Margery?" "No, please," said Margery, "for I have another story. Take one of the boys, and let's have more facts." "Yes, something historic and profound, out of the encyclopedia, from Jack," said Polly, saucily. "Thanks, Miss Oliver. With you for an audience any man might be inspired; but”— "But not a boy?" "Mother, dear, remove that child from my sight, or I shall certainly shake her! Phil, go on, just to keep Polly quiet." "Very well. Being the oldest Californian present, I❞— "What about Dr. Paul?" asked the irrepressible Polly. "He was n't born here," responded Philip, dryly, "and I was." "I think that's a quibble," interrupted Bell. "Papa was here twenty years before you were. "It's not my fault that he came first," an swered Philip. 66 Margery and I are not only the oldest Californians present, but the only ones. Is n't that So, sir?" "Quite correct." 66 Oh, if you mean that way, I suppose you are; but still papa helped frame the Constitution, and was here on the first Admission Day, and was one of the Vigilantes, - and I think that makes him more of a real Californian than you. You've just 'grown up with the country.'" "Bless my soul ! What else could I do? I would have been glad to frame the Constitution, admit the State, and serve on the Vigilance Committee, if they had only waited for me; but they went straight ahead with the business, and when I was born there was nothing to do but stand round and criticise what they had done, or, as you express it, grow up with the country.' Well, as I was saying when I was interrupted," "Beg pardon." "Don't mention it. Uncle Doc has asked me to tell Mrs. Howard and Elsie how they carried on the rodeos ten or fifteen years ago. Of course I was only a little chap" ("Very little," murmured his sister), "but never too small to stick on a horse, and my father used often to take me along. The rodeos nowadays are neither as great occasions, nor as exciting ones, as they used to be; but this is the way a rodeo is managed. When the spring rains are mostly over, and the grass is fine, say |