of　this　performance。
  〃If　you　took　as　much　care　in　trying　to　form　your　letters　according
  to　copy；　you'd　do　better。　　Your　signature　is　fair　enough　as　it　is。〃
  〃But　it　don't　look　right；　Mr。　Ford；〃　said　Uncle　Ben；　eying　it
  distrustfully；　〃somehow　it　ain't　all　there。〃
  〃Why；　certainly　it　is。　　Look；　D　A　B　N　E　Ynot　very　plain；　it's
  true；　but　there　are　all　the　letters。〃
  〃That's　just　it；　Mr。　Ford；　them　AIN'T　all　the　letters　that　ORTER　be
  there。　　I've　allowed　to　write　it　D　A　B　N　E　Y　to　save　time　and　ink；
  but　it　orter　read　DAUBIGNY；〃　said　Uncle　Ben；　with　painful
  distinctness。
  〃But　that　spells　d'Aubigny！〃
  〃It　are。〃
  〃Is　that　your　name？〃
  〃I　reckon。〃
  The　master　looked　at　Uncle　Ben　doubtfully。　　Was　this　only　another
  form　of　the　Dobell　illusion？　　〃Was　your　father　a　Frenchman？〃　he
  asked　finally。
  Uncle　Ben　paused　as　if　to　recall　the　trifling　circumstances　of　his
  father's　nationality。　　〃No。〃
  〃Your　grandfather？〃
  〃I　reckon　not。　　At　least　ye　couldn't　prove　it　by　me。〃
  〃Was　your　father　or　grandfather　a　voyageur　or　trapper；　or
  Canadian？〃
  〃They　were　from　Pike　County；　Mizzoori。〃
  The　master　regarded　Uncle　Ben　still　dubiously。　　〃But　you　call
  yourself　Dabney。　　What　makes　you　think　your　real　name　is　d'Aubigny？〃
  〃That's　the　way　it　uster　be　writ　in　letters　to　me　in　the　States。
  Hold　on。　　I'll　show　ye。〃　　He　deliberately　began　to　feel　in　his
  pockets；　finally　extracting　his　old　purse　from　which　he　produced　a
  crumpled　envelope；　and　carefully　smoothing　it　out；　compared　it　with
  his　signature。
  〃Thar；　you　see。　　It's　the　samed'Aubigny。〃
  The　master　hesitated。　　After　all；　it　was　not　impossible。　　He
  recalled　other　instances　of　the　singular　transformation　of　names　in
  the　Californian　emigration。　　Yet　he　could　not　help　saying；　〃Then
  you　concluded　d'Aubigny　was　a　better　name　than　Dabney？〃
  〃Do　YOU　think　it's　better？〃
  〃Women　might。　　I　dare　say　your　wife　would　prefer　to　be　called　Mrs。
  d'Aubigny　rather　than　Dabney。〃
  The　chance　shot　told。　　Uncle　Ben　suddenly　flushed　to　his　ears。
  〃I　didn't　think　o'　that；〃　he　said　hurriedly。　　〃I　had　another　idee。
  I　reckoned　that　on　the　matter　o'　holdin'　property　and　passin'　in
  money　it　would　be　better　to　hev　your　name　put　on　the　square；　and　to
  sorter　go　down　to　bed　rock　for　it；　eh？　　If　I　wanted　to　take　a　hand
  in　them　lots　or　Ditch　shares；　for　instanceit　would　be　only　law　to
  hev　it　made　out　in　the　name　o'　d'Aubigny。〃
  Mr。　Ford　listened　with　certain　impatient　contempt。　　It　was　bad
  enough　for　Uncle　Ben　to　have　exposed　his　weakness　in　inventing
  fictions　about　his　early　education；　but　to　invest　himself　now　with
  a　contingency　of　capital　for　the　sake　of　another　childish　vanity；
  was　pitiable　as　it　was　preposterous。　　There　was　no　doubt　that　he
  had　lied　about　his　school　experiences；　it　was　barely　probable　that
  his　name　was　really　d'Aubigny；　and　it　was　quite　consistent　with　all
  thiseven　setting　apart　the　fact　that　he　was　perfectly　well　known
  to　be　only　a　poor　minerthat　he　should　lie　again。　　Like　most
  logical　reasoners　Mr。　Ford　forgot　that　humanity　might　be　illogical
  and　inconsistent　without　being　insincere。　　He　turned　away　without
  speaking　as　if　indicating　a　wish　to　hear　no　more。
  〃Some　o'　these　days；〃　said　Uncle　Ben；　with　dull　persistency；　〃I'll
  tell　ye　suthen'。〃
  〃I'd　advise　you　just　now　to　drop　it　and　stick　to　your　lessons；〃
  said　the　master　sharply。
  〃That's　so；〃　said　Uncle　Ben　hurriedly；　hiding　himself　as　it　were　in
  an　all…encompassing　blush。　　〃In　course　lessons　first；　boys；　that's
  the　motto。〃　　He　again　took　up　his　pen　and　assumed　his　old　laborious
  attitude。　　But　after　a　few　moments　it　became　evident　that　either
  the　master's　curt　dismissal　of　his　subject　or　his　own　preoccupation
  with　it；　had　somewhat　unsettled　him。　　He　cleaned　his　pen
  obtrusively；　going　to　the　window　for　a　better　light；　and　whistling
  from　time　to　time　with　a　demonstrative　carelessness　and　a
  depressing　gayety。　　He　once　broke　into　a　murmuring；　meditative
  chant　evidently　referring　to　the　previous　conversation；　in　its
  〃That's　soYer　we　goLessons　the　first；　boys；　Yo；　heave　O。〃　　The
  rollicking　marine　character　of　this　refrain；　despite　its　utter
  incongruousness；　apparently　struck　him　favorably；　for　he　repeated
  it　softly；　occasionally　glancing　behind　him　at　the　master　who　was
  coldly　absorbed　at　his　desk。　　Presently　he　arose；　carefully　put　his
  books　away；　symmetrically　piling　them　in　a　pyramid　beside　Mr。
  Ford's　motionless　elbow；　and　then　lifting　his　feet　with　high　but
  gentle　steps　went　to　the　peg　where　his　coat　and　hat　were　hanging。
  As　he　was　about　to　put　them　on　he　appeared　suddenly　struck　with　a
  sense　of　indecorousness　in　dressing　himself　in　the　school；　and
  taking　them　on　his　arm　to　the　porch　resumed　them　outside。　　Then
  saying；　〃I　clean　disremembered　I'd　got　to　see　a　man。　　So　long；　till
  to…morrow；〃　he　disappeared　whistling　softly。
  The　old　woodland　hush　fell　back　upon　the　school。　　It　seemed　very
  quiet　and　empty。　　A　faint　sense　of　remorse　stole　over　the　master。
  Yet　he　remembered　that　Uncle　Ben　had　accepted　without　reproach　and
  as　a　good　joke　much　more　direct　accusations　from　Rupert　Filgee；　and
  that　he　himself　had　acted　from　a　conscientious　sense　of　duty
  towards　the　man。　　But　a　conscientious　sense　of　duty　to　inflict　pain
  upon　a　fellow…mortal　for　his　own　good　does　not　always　bring　perfect
  serenity　to　the　inflicterpossibly　because；　in　the　defective
  machinery　of　human　compensation；　pain　is　the　only　quality　that　is
  apt　to　appear　in　the　illustration。　　Mr。　Ford　felt　uncomfortable；
  and　being　so；　was　naturally　vexed　at　the　innocent　cause。　　Why
  should　Uncle　Ben　be　offended　because　he　had　simply　declined　to
  follow　his　weak　fabrications　any　further？　　This　was　his　return　for
  having　tolerated　it　at　first！　　It　would　be　a　lesson　to　him
  henceforth。　　Nevertheless　he　got　up　and　went　to　the　door。　　The
  figure　of　Uncle　Ben　was　already　indistinct　among　the　leaves；　but
  from　the　motion　of　his　shoulders　he　seemed　to　be　still　stepping
  high　and　softly　as　if　not　yet　clear　of　insecure　and　engulfing
  ground。
  The　silence　still　continuing；　the　master　began　mechanically　to　look
  over　the　desks　for　forgotten　or　mislaid　articles；　and　to　rearrange
  the　pupils'　books　and　copies。　　A　few　heartsease　gathered　by　the
  devoted　Octavia　Dean；　neatly　tied　with　a　black　thread　and　regularly
  left　in　the　inkstand　cavity　of　Rupert's　desk；　were　still　lying　on
  the　floor　where　they　had　been　always　hurled　with　equal　regularity
  by　that　disdainful　Adonis。　　Picking　up　a　slate　from　under　a　bench；
  his　attention　was　attracted　by　a　forgotten　cartoon　on　the　reverse
  side。　　Mr。　Ford　at　once　recognized　it　as　the　work　of　that　youthful
  but　eminent　caricaturist；　Johnny　Filgee。　　Broad　in　treatment；
  comprehensive　in　subject；　liberal　in　detail　and　slate…pencilit
  represented　Uncle　Ben　lying　on　the　floor　with　a　book　in　his　hand；
  tyrannized　over　by　Rupert　Filgee　and　regarded　in　a　striking　profile
  of　two　features　by　Cressy　McKinstry。　　The　daring　realism　of
  introducing　the　names　of　each　character　on　their　legsperhaps
  ideally　enlarged　for　that　purposeleft　no　doubt　of　their　identity。
  Equally　daring　but　no　less　effective　was　the　rendering　of　a　limited
  but　dramatic　conversation　between　the　parties　by　the　aid　of
  emotional　balloons　attached　to　their　mouths　like　a　visible　gulp
  bearing　the　respective　legends：　〃I　luv　you；〃　〃O　my；〃　and　〃You　git！〃
  The　master　was　for　a　moment　startled　at　this　unlooked…for　but
  graphic　testimony　to　the　fact　that　Uncle　Ben's　visits　to　the　school
  were　not　only　known　but　commented　upon。　　The　small　eyes　of　those
  youthful　observers　had　been　keener　than　his　own。　　He　had　again　been
  stupidly　deceived；　in　spite　of　his　efforts。　　Love；　albeit　deficient
  in　features　and　wearing　an　improperly　short　bell…shaped　frock；　had
  boldly　re…entered　the　peaceful　school；　and　disturbing　complications
  on　abnormal　legs　were　following　at　its　heels。
  CHAPTER　V。
  While　this　simple　pastoral　life　was　centred　around　the　school…house
  in　the　clearing；　broken　only　by　an　occasional　warning　pistol…shot
  in　the　direction　of　the　Harrison…McKinstry　boundaries；　the　more
  business　part　of　Indian　Spring　was　overtaken　by　one　of　those　spasms
  of　enterprise　peculiar　to　all　Californian　mining　settlements。　　The
  opening　of　the　Eureka　Ditch　and　the　extension　of　stagecoach
  communication　from　Big　Bluff　were　events　of　no　small　importance；
  and　were　celebrated　on　the　same　day。　　The　double　occasion
  overtaxing　even　the　fluent　rhetoric　of　the　editor　of　the　〃Star〃
  left　him　struggling　in　the　metaphorical　difficulties　of　a　Pactolian
  Spring；　which　he　had　rashly　turned　into　the　Ditch；　and　obliged　him
  to　transfer　the　onerous　duty　of　writing　the　editorial　on　the　Big
  Bluff　Extension　to　the　hands　of　the　Honorable　Abner　Dean；
  Assemblyman　from　Angel's。　　The　loss　of　the　Honorable　Mr。　Dean's
  right　eye　in　an　early　pioneer　fracas　did　not　prevent　him　from
  looking　into　the　dim　vista　of　the