The Midnight Watch;

or,

The Bar Maid and the Teamster

A California Detective's Story

Written for the New York Clipper

I don’t think I was ever out in a hotter day in America than the one of which I am about to write. The sun had been pouring down streams of fiery light that made me thank my stars I was not in “Force” uniform, though, as it was, the heat burning through the tweed coat on my back made it feel as if it was cast iron, and was riveted upon my body. My poor animal felt the fatigue and almost insufferable heat quite as much as I did, I dare say, while the flies, those tormenting nuisances of bush fire, nearly drove both him and me mad.

Very beautiful in early morning is the green, scattered “bush” of the State of California. A thousand beauties may be freshly discovered, as it were, at every fresh mile of travel. In one spot grand, crooked old trees lean caressingly over some tortuous and glistening creek, or stand sentinel over their own still reflections in the placid waters. Early birds call to each other from scented golden wattles, or wash themselves in the shadows of the old gum trees upon the edge of the creek. If it is the season for the stately magpie, he utters those delicious gurgles of music that cannot be compared with the notes of any other bird in the wide world, or stalks proudly over the grassy slopes, as if he really believed he and his were monarchs of all… Read More