THE RECORDED WILL.

CHAPTER I.

THE SNOW STORM.

"WELL! how deep is the snow, on a level?" called James from his bed of spruce branches, as he lay in the miner's cabin in one of the deep gulches of the Sierra Nevada.

"About ten feet," replied his brother, plunging his heavy cane into the huge drifts which had blocked them up, making further progress impossible to the poor invalid.

"The clouds are breaking, and if you are not afraid to be left alone, we will beat our way to the store and get provisions, if possible."

"I don't like camping here much longer with nothing to eat. I confess. Our last pint of

beans was divided for our breakfast. We may

perish in the snow.

We certainly shall die

here."

"How far is it to the store, Alfred?" said the

sick boy.

"About twelve miles. I hate to leave you, dear James," looking sorrowfully on the pale face which revealed deep lines of suffering and despondency. "It will be so lonely, and to leave you with nothing to put into your lips; but I hope to get back to-night. We will do our very best, so you will cheer up, dear brother; keep a good heart!"

In a short time the two young men were equipped in skins and woollen caps, ready to battle the storm which was again collecting its forces. Once more Alfred looked at his brother, struggling hard with the rising tear as he thought of his mother at home, and the solemn charge "never to leave his brother."

"It must be right, I see nothing else to be done, poor James. I fear we shall never meet again." The little tin cup of water stood near

for the parched lips, and alone in that rugged cabin, with no earthly comfort, lay the feeble youth amidst the furious storm which blew thick and fast upon his unprotected bed.

Snow flakes whirled into the lodge, hiding away in the folds of the blanket, but the branches cracked and blazed on the fire, and the invalid long inured to hardship, roused up his courage, determined to be as hopeful as possible.

On went the travellers with brisk steps, but the few spoonfuls of bean soup was a sorry breakfast for the toilsome day's work.

"Give me a lever, long enough, and I will move the world."

"Give me a sufficient motive power, and I will accomplish all but impossibilities."

Famine had looked into the lodge of the miners. A fortnight these young men had been shut up, waiting for the storm to cease. Pork and meal, flour and coffee, all gone! In such a wilderness who should bring relief? Did travellers ever visit that deep gulch?