The mother cut her bread in frowning silence, the father took his hat and left the room, while little Ross said: "Job brought me a lot of the prettiest flowers once when I was sick! I wish he owned all the flowers, he's so good to me!" Just then Baby Jim climbed into his mother's lap and said, "What's 'dead,' mamma? Where's Uncle Andy gone? Is you goin' there?" And the peevish, selfish woman took the child in her arms and went out on the sunny porch, wondering if indeed she was ever going there; whether this something which, after all, she knew had so changed Dan for the better, was for her. Down at Squire Perkins' that night, a Chinese woman, kneeling by her kitchen chair, prayed that riches might not conquer Job Malden, who by the grace of God had stood so many of life's tests. On the streets of Gold City they debated over the estate, wondering if Andrew Malden had left anything for public charity, and whether the new lord of Pine Tree Mountain would rebuild the mill and open the Cove Mine. Pioneers of the hills met each other by the way and talked of how fast changes were coming in Grizzly county--Yankee Sam gone, Father Reynolds gone, and now Andy Malden. They shook their heads and wondered what would become of things, with none but the youngsters left. Up at the ranch, Tony crept softly across the floor and, himself unseen, looked in where Job sat by the still form of "old Marse." It was over at last. Under the pines, close by his own boy and Jane, they laid him. It was a strange funeral. Tony, Hans, Tim's father and Sing bore the casket. A great throng was there. The man whom Grizzly county had once hated was buried amid its tears. Job stood with bared head as the preacher said, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," and turned quickly away, feeling that the old days were gone forever. It seemed very strange that night to hear Tony say, "Marse Malden, what's de work yo' hab for me?" He walked through the old house and then went out again. The soul of the place was gone. Job wondered what the outside world looked like; what God had in store for him. He longed to leave the dead past behind him, and be out in the world of action and mighty purpose. But he was in the memory-world still; and as he slept that night, there came the friends of other days--his blue-eyed mother, Yankee Sam, black-eyed Jane, wan-faced Tim, the old man; across his dreams they came and went. Last of all One came, the seamless robe enfolding Him, the dust covering His scarred feet, the print of thorns on His brow, and He whispered: "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." CHAPTER XXX. "AUF WIEDERSEHEN."