plunged　into　the　woods；　with　the　parcel　swung　behind　her　like　a
  knapsack。　　Leaving　the　trail；　she　presently　struck　off　in　a
  straight　line　through　cover　and　underbrush　with　the　unerring
  instinct　of　an　animal；　climbing　hand　over　hand　the　steepest　ascent；
  or　fluttering　like　a　bird　from　branch　to　branch　down　the　deepest
  declivity。　　She　soon　reached　that　part　of　the　trail　where　the
  susceptible　Postmaster　had　seen　the　fascinating　unknown。　　Assuring
  herself　she　was　not　followed；　she　crept　through　the　thicket　until
  she　reached　a　little　waterfall　and　basin　that　had　served　the
  fugitive　Lance　for　a　bath。　　The　spot　bore　signs　of　later　and　more
  frequent　occupancy；　and　when　Flip　carefully　removed　some　bark　and
  brushwood　from　a　cavity　in　the　rock　and　drew　forth　various　folded
  garments；　it　was　evident　she　had　used　it　as　a　sylvan　dressing…room。
  Here　she　opened　the　parcel；　it　contained　a　small　and　delicate　shawl
  of　yellow　China　crepe。　　Flip　instantly　threw　it　over　her　shoulders
  and　stepped　hurriedly　toward　the　edge　of　the　wood。　　Then　she　began
  to　pass　backward　and　forward　before　the　trunk　of　a　tree。　　At　first
  nothing　was　visible　on　the　tree；　but　a　closer　inspection　showed　a
  large　pane　of　ordinary　window　glass　stuck　in　the　fork　of　the
  branches。　　It　was　placed　at　such　a　cunning　angle　against　the
  darkness　of　the　forest　opening　that　it　made　a　soft　and　mysterious
  mirror；　not　unlike　a　Claude　Lorraine　glass；　wherein　not　only　the
  passing　figure　of　the　young　girl　was　seen；　but　the　dazzling　green
  and　gold　of　the　hillside；　and　the　far…off　silhouetted　crests　of　the
  Coast　Range。
  But　this　was　evidently　only　a　prelude　to　a　severer　rehearsal。　　When
  she　returned　to　the　waterfall　she　unearthed　from　her　stores　a　large
  piece　of　yellow　soap　and　some　yards　of　rough　cotton　〃sheeting。〃
  These　she　deposited　beside　the　basin　and　again　crept　to　the　edge　of
  the　wood　to　assure　herself　that　she　was　alone。　　Satisfied　that　no
  intruding　foot　had　invaded　that　virgin　bower；　she　returned　to　her
  bath　and　began　to　undress。　　A　slight　wind　followed　her；　and　seemed
  to　whisper　to　the　circumjacent　trees。　　It　appeared　to　waken　her
  sister　naiads　and　nymphs；　who；　joining　their　leafy　fingers；　softly
  drew　around　her　a　gently　moving　band　of　trembling　lights　and
  shadows；　of　flecked　sprays　and　inextricably　mingled　branches；　and
  involved　her　in　a　chaste　sylvan　obscurity；　veiled　alike　from
  pursuing　god　or　stumbling　shepherd。　　Within　these　hallowed
  precincts　was　the　musical　ripple　of　laughter　and　falling　water；　and
  at　times　the　glimpse　of　a　lithe　brier…caught　limb；　or　a　ray　of
  sunlight　trembling　over　bright　flanks；　or　the　white　austere　outline
  of　a　childish　bosom。
  When　she　drew　again　the　leafy　curtain；　and　once　more　stepped　out　of
  the　wood；　she　was　completely　transformed。　　It　was　the　figure　that
  had　appeared　to　the　Postmaster；　the　slight；　erect；　graceful　form　of
  a　young　woman　modishly　attired。　　It　was　Flip；　but　Flip　made　taller
  by　the　lengthened　skirt　and　clinging　habiliments　of　fashion。　　Flip
  freckled；　but；　through　the　cunning　of　a　relief　of　yellow　color　in
  her　gown；　her　piquant　brown…shot　face　and　eyes　brightened　and
  intensified　until　she　seemed　like　a　spicy　odor　made　visible。　　I
  cannot　affirm　that　the　judgment　of　Flip's　mysterious　modiste　was
  infallible；　or　that　the　taste　of　Mr。　Lance　Harriott；　her　patron；
  was　fastidious；　enough　that　it　was　picturesque；　and　perhaps　not
  more　glaring　and　extravagant　than　the　color　in　which　Spring　herself
  had　once　clothed　the　sere　hillside　where　Flip　was　now　seated。　　The
  phantom　mirror　in　the　tree　fork　caught　and　held　her　with　the　sky；
  the　green　leaves；　the　sunlight　and　all　the　graciousness　of　her
  surroundings；　and　the　wind　gently　tossed　her　hair　and　the　gay
  ribbons　of　her　gypsy　hat。　　Suddenly　she　started。　　Some　remote　sound
  in　the　trail　below；　inaudible　to　any　ear　less　fine　than　hers；
  arrested　her　breathing。　　She　rose　swiftly　and　darted　into　cover。
  Ten　minutes　passed。　　The　sun　was　declining；　the　white　fog　was
  beginning　to　creep　over　the　Coast　Range。　　From　the　edge　of　the　wood
  Cinderella　appeared；　disenchanted；　and　in　her　homespun　garments。
  The　clock　had　struckthe　spell　was　past。　　As　she　disappeared　down
  the　trail　even　the　magic　mirror；　moved　by　the　wind；　slipped　from
  the　tree　top　to　the　ground；　and　became　a　piece　of　common　glass。
  CHAPTER　IV。
  The　events　of　the　day　had　produced　a　remarkable　impression　on　the
  facial　aspect　of　the　charcoal…burning　Fairley。　　Extraordinary
  processes　of　thought；　indicated　by　repeated　rubbing　of　his　forehead；
  had　produced　a　high　light　in　the　middle　and　a　corresponding
  deepening　of　shadow　at　the　sides；　until　it　bore　the　appearance　of　a
  perfect　sphere。　　It　was　this　forehead　that　confronted　Flip
  reproachfully　as　became　a　deceived　comrade；　menacingly　as　became　an
  outraged　parent　in　the　presence　of　a　third　party　anda　Postmaster！
  〃Fine　doin's　this；　yer　receivin'　clandecent　bundles　and　letters；
  eh？〃　he　began。　　Flip　sent　one　swift；　withering　look　of　contempt　at
  the　Postmaster；　who　at　once　becoming　invertebrate　and　groveling；
  mumbled　that　he　must　〃get　on〃　to　the　Crossing；　and　rose　to　go。　　But
  the　old　man；　who　had　counted　on　his　presence　for　moral　support；　and
  was　clearly　beginning　to　hate　him　for　precipitating　this　scene　with
  his　daughter；　whom　he　feared；　violently　protested。
  〃Sit　down；　can't　ye？　　Don't　you　see　you're　a　witness？〃　he　screamed
  hysterically。
  It　was　a　fatal　suggestion。　　〃Witness；〃　repeated　Flip；　scornfully。
  〃Yes；　a　witness！　　He　gave　ye　letters　and　bundles。〃
  〃Weren't　they　directed　to　me？〃　asked　Flip。
  〃Yes；〃　said　the　Postmaster；　hesitatingly；　〃in　course；　yes。〃
  〃Do　YOU　lay　claim　to　them？〃　she　said；　turning　to　her　father。
  〃No；〃　responded　the　old　man。
  〃Do　you？〃　sharply；　to　the　Postmaster。
  〃No；〃　he　replied。
  〃Then；〃　said　Flip；　coolly；　〃if　you're　not　claimin'　'em　for
  yourself；　and　you　hear　father　say　they　ain't　his；　I　reckon　the　less
  you　have　to　say　about　'em　the　better。〃
  〃Thar's　suthin'　in　that；〃　said　the　old　man；　shamelessly　abandoning
  the　Postmaster。
  〃Then　why　don't　she　say　who　sent　'em；　and　what　they　are　like；〃　said
  the　Postmaster；　〃if　there's　nothin'　in　it？〃
  〃Yes；〃　echoed　Dad。　　〃Flip；　why　don't　you？〃
  Without　answering　the　direct　question；　Flip　turned　upon　her　father。
  〃Maybe　you　forget　how　you　used　to　row　and　tear　round　here　because
  tramps　and　such　like　came　to　the　ranch　for　suthin'；　and　I　gave　it
  to　'em？　　Maybe　you'll　quit　tearin'　round　and　letting　yourself　be
  made　a　fool　of　now　by　that　man；　just　because　one　of　those　tramps
  gets　up　and　sends　us　some　presents　back　in　turn？〃
  〃'Twasn't　me；　Flip；〃　said　the　old　man；　deprecatingly；　but　glaring
  at　the　astonished　Postmaster。　　〃Twasn't　my　doin'。　　I　allus　said　if
  you　cast　your　bread　on　the　waters　it　would　come　back　to　you　by
  return　mail。　　The　fact　is；　the　Gov'ment　is　gettin'　too　high…handed！
  Some　o'　these　bloated　officials　had　better　climb　down　before　next
  leckshen。〃
  〃Maybe；〃　continued　Flip　to　her　father；　without　looking　at　her
  discomfited　visitor；　〃ye'd　better　find　out　whether　one　of　those
  officials　comes　up　to　this　yer　ranch　to　steal　away　a　gal　about　my
  own　size；　or　to　get　points　about　diamond…making。　　I　reckon　he　don't
  travel　round　to　find　out　who　writes　all　the　letters　that　go　through
  the　Post　Office。〃
  The　Postmaster　had　seemingly　miscalculated　the　old　man's　infirm
  temper　and　the　daughter's　skillful　use　of　it。　　He　was　unprepared
  for　Flip's　boldness　and　audacity；　and　when　he　saw　that　both　barrels
  of　the　accusation　had　taken　effect　on　the　charcoal　burner；　who　was
  rising　with　epileptic　rage；　he　fairly　turned　and　fled。　　The　old　man
  would　have　followed　him　with　objurgation　beyond　the　door；　but　for
  the　restraining　hand　of　Flip。
  Baffled　and　beaten；　nevertheless　Fate　was　not　wholly　unkind　to　the
  retreating　suitor。　　Near　the　Gin　and　Ginger　Woods　he　picked　up　a
  letter　which　had　fallen　from　Flip's　pocket。　　He　recognized　the
  writing；　and　did　not　scruple　to　read　it。　　It　was　not　a　love
  epistle；at　least；　not　such　a　one　as　he　would　have　written；it
  did　not　give　the　address　nor　the　name　of　the　correspondent；　but　he
  read　the　following　with　greedy　eyes：
  〃Perhaps　it's　just　as　well　that　you　don't　rig　yourself　out　for　the
  benefit　of　those　dead　beats　at　the　Crossing；　or　any　tramp　that
  might　hang　round　the　ranch。　　Keep　all　your　style　for　me　when　I
  come。　　I　can't　tell　you　when；　it's　mighty　uncertain　before　the
  rainy　season。　　But　I'm　coming　soon。　　Don't　go　back　on　your　promise
  about　lettin　up　on　the　tramps；　and　being　a　little　more　high…toned。
  And　don't　you　give　'em　so　much。　　It's　true　I　sent　you　hats　TWICE。
  I　clean　forgot　all　about　the　first；　but　I　wouldn't　have　given　a
  ten…dollar　hat　to　a　nigger　woman　who　had　a　sick　baby　because　I　had
  an　extra　hat。　　I'd　have　let　that　baby　slide。　　I　forgot　to　ask
  whether　the　skirt　is　worn　separately；　I　must　see　the　dressmaking
  sharp　about　it；　but　I　think　you'