A Daughter Of The Dons

For hours Manuel Pesquiera had been rolling up the roof of the ontinent in anobservationcar of the Short Line. His train had wound in and out through amaze of b... » 

For hours Manuel Pesquiera had been rolling up the roof of the ontinent in anobservationcar of the Short Line. His train had wound in and out through amaze of bewildering scenery and was at last dipping down into the basin ofthe famous gold camp. The alert black eyes of the young New Mexican wandereddiscontentedly over the raw ugliness of the camp. Towns straggled here andthere untidily at haphazard mushroom growths of a day born of a luckystrike. Into the valleys and up and down the hillsides ran a network of railsfor trolley and steam cars. Everywhere were the open tunnel mouths or the frameshafthouses perched above the gray Titan dump beards. «