In the lonely wilds of Southern California there stands a rural tavern, kept by an old trapper, who had been widowed years ago; his wife leaving him a most precious legacy in the being of a pretty daughter. She was indeed the fairest flower that e'er blossomed in the land of the golden sun. At this tavern there stopped the honest, hardy miners and trappers of the neighboring country on their way to and from their claims in the mountains. A sort of a rest-up place for a chat and a smoke with the old keeper, and a mug of ale, served by the fair hands of his daughter. Among those who frequented this rustic hostelry was one of those proletarian half-breed Mexicans, whose acidulate countenance was most odious to all, particularly the girl. On the other hand, her blue eyes, golden hair and sunny complexion inflamed him so as to make bold to kiss her. He is indignantly repulsed, receiving a blow on the face from the girl which sends him from the place, scowling and towering with rage. It is ...
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