over to-night and I've no doubt the Honourable Reverend Ezra Perkins will see a new light with the rising of to-morrow's sun."
And Ezra did see a new light. As the Major cursed him in all the moods and tenses he knew, Ezra thought he smelled brimstone in that light.
"I assure you, Major, I'm sorry the thing happened. My assistant did all the work on these papers. I hadn't time to give them personal attention," the Agent apologised in his humblest voice.
"You're a liar. Don't waste your breath."
Ezra bit his lips and pulled his Mormon whiskers.
"Write out your decision now—this minute—confirming these accounts in double quick order, unless you are looking for trouble."
And Ezra hastened to do as he was bidden.
The next day while the General was seated on the porch of the little hotel discussing his campaigns with Major Grant, Tom Camp sent for him.
Tom took the General round behind his house, with grave ceremony.
"What are you up to, Tom?"
"Show you in a minute! I wish I could make you a handsomer present, General, to show you how much I think of you. But I know yer weakness anyhow. There's the finest lot er lightwood you ever seed."
Tom turned back some old bagging and revealed a pile of fat pine chips covered with rosin, evidently chipped carefully out of the boxed place of live pine trees.
The General had two crochets, lightwood and waterpower. When he got hold of a fine lot of lightwood suitable for kindling fires, he would fill his closet with it, conceal it under his bed, and sometimes under his mat-
