With all his good nature Uncle made her toe the mark. He did not believe in spoiling boys. They were generally lazy and he was determined Jack should do her full share of the work, but he did not always remember this. Being naturally lazy she resented being driven. She much preferred to lie around and read, or to lie abed and see him get breakfast, but he usually routed her out. He was anxious that she should grow strong and made her work in order that she might do so but uncomplainingly and as a matter of course he shouldered the heaviest part of the load. It may be imagined, therefore, that her regard for Uncle grew greater day by day. There was bread to make and he made it; the water grew short and he went without; the burros strayed and he went after them,—not grudgingly but without complaint. She had heard of him through her father’s talks many and many a time. She had learned of his goodness to her father; and here he was, unselfishly giving to her all he could give, freely and as a matter of course. Such conduct makes a friend of any generous-minded soul. It slowly converted her regard into devotion. She began to look for opportunities to serve him. To do anything for him became a joy.
They were nearing the Amargosa and were sitting at the camp fire one evening when he said: “Jack, you are the very nicest boy I ever knew. I thought your father was the finest man on earth but I have lost him forever. I have found you instead. I am selfish and I would like to have you both; but, oh, my dear boy! I am so glad to have found you.” Jack said nothing but she turned her face to conceal the tears.
They had been many days on the road. That afternoon they crossed the Funeral Range into Death Valley. The rocks of this range are black, rough, crumbly and forbidding. It is a bad climbing ground for the rocks are rotten and afford very insecure support. As they were slowly and painfully groping their way down into the valley a rock upon which he was standing gave way and he came sliding down in an avalanche of stones and dirt. She saw at a glance that he was headed for a precipice and without hesitating a second threw herself in the way. He was stopped but she slid many feet, turning over and over and landed against another rock, just on the edge of the precipice, covered with stones and dirt. Hastily he tore the spade from the pack, rushed down and uncovered her. Her coat was torn and her shirt in rags. She was unconscious as he laid her on the ground and cleaned the dirt from hands and face and gave her water to drink. Slowly she came out of the daze to find him anxiously bending over her.
“Were you hurt?” said she.
“No,” he replied, “see whether any of your bones are broken.”
They camped at Saratoga Springs and from there traveled by easy stages to Daggett and thence to Los Angeles. All the way he was quiet, and she viewed him with apprehension. On the way east he sat beside her in the Pullman.
“Why did you not tell me you were a woman?” said he.
“I was afraid you would not take me, and I wanted to go.”
“Well, it’s too bad. I suppose now I must send you off to live with some one else.”
“Please don’t do that Uncle, I couldn’t bear it.”