“It’s the Angel!” cried Shoshone, while the three began to dust their boots rapidly with their wide sombreros, and then they all awaited her arrival. Helen Pierson it was, who now made her appearance with a lithe and active bound down from the rocks beyond. She wore a short corduroy skirt, leather leggings, a wide sombrero, and had around her waist a cartridge-belt with a pistol, and in her hand she carried a small, but deadly, repeating-rifle. How different she was from the poor, besotted wretch whom Morris Goldberg had taught that it is never too late to mend, and had sent West to begin life over again. Now her eyes were bright, her cheeks red, and health spoke in every motion. All the boys stood at “attention,” smiling broadly, and waiting for her to speak. This she did, saying, blithely: “Well; here I am, safe and sound as a dollar. Hello, Shoshone! Howdy, Dan! Hello, Mike! My! that was a long trip in a short time.” “Here, here! No fair, Angel, no fair!” cried Snakes Duffy, who had returned just then. “Why, what’s wrong, Snakes?” asked Helen. “You never said ‘Hello’ to me.” “Oh, excuse me. How are you, Mr. Snakes Duffy?” said Helen, with an elaborate bow, while all the rest laughed. “I’m tip-top, Angel. How’s Silver Bill’s folks?” “All right. Getting along fine,” replied she, waiting a little maliciously for one of them to ask the question she knew they were aching to have answered. “Boys,” said Shoshone, gathering the three all in one group, and whispering something to them, whereat Dan shook his head, while Snakes and Mike turned their backs, and Mike said: “It’s up to you, Shoshone.” This gentleman then put his sombrero on his head, simply to call attention by a wide flourish of his arm to the fact that he took it off to the Angel, and then opened his mouth, to find that words would not come. Helen smiled at his embarrassment and asked, innocently: “Well, what is it, Shoshone?” With a hoarse croak, meant to be a persuasive accent, Shoshone asked, stammering sheepishly: “Boy or gal, ma’am?” “Both!” replied Helen, gravely, while Shoshone slapped his leg with the hat, shouting: “By the howlin’ coyote, boys, it’s twins! Now ain’t that Silver Bill the luckiest cuss! A wife like a mountain-pink, and now twins! Just think!” Helen turned to Snakes, saying: “Snakes, may I have a bite to eat before I go to my shack? I’m too tired to do anything but go to sleep.” “_May_ she have a bite to eat, boys? _May_ she? Listen to that!” “She may. She may have all that’s in the house if she likes, eh, boys?” said Shoshone, fervently. “That’s what!” said Dan, emphatically. “Sure thing!” said Mike, with a clear determination written on every line of his rugged face, to frighten anyone or anything that might hinder Helen from having any and everything she wanted. “I’m going to be waiter,” said Shoshone, starting toward the dining-room.