d the ashes of their own camp
fires. The girl's voice in the darkness called him from his musings.

"I believe I understand," she said. "You've found your mine--and your
father's body."

"Yes. Just a skeleton."

"I'm not afraid. Do you want me to stay?"

"I'd love to have you, if you will. Some way--it takes away a lot of
my bitterness--to have you here."

It was true. It seemed wholly fitting that she should be with him as he
explored the cavern. It was almost as if the tragedy of his father's
death concerned her, too.

"I can hold matches," she told him. She came up close, and for a moment
her hand, groping, closed on his,--a soft, dear pressure that spoke
more than any words. When it was released he lighted another match.

They stood together, looking down at the skeleton. But she wasn't quite
prepared for what she saw. A little cry of horror rang strangely in the
dark shaft.

This had been no natural death. Undoubtedly the elder Bronson had been
struck down from behind, as he worked, and he lay just as he fell.
There was one wound in the skull, round and ghastly, and in a moment
they saw the weapon that made it. A rusted pick, such as miners use,
lay beside the body.

"I won't try to do much to-day," the man told her, "except to see up one
of my cornerposts and erect a claim notice. My father's notice has of
course rotted away in the years and the monument that probably stood out
there beyond the creek bed was covered in snowslide. You see, a claim
is made by putting up four stone monuments--one at each corner of the
area claimed. We'll be starting down in a day or two, and I'll register
the claim. Then I'll come back--and give these poor bones decent
burial."

From there he walked back to the end of the shaft, scratching another
match. It was wholly evident that the mine was only scratched. He held
the light close, studying the rear wall of the cave. It was simply a
gravel bed, verifying his guess that here lay an old bed of the creek.
In the first handful of stone he scraped out he found a half-ounce
nugget.

"It's rich?" she asked.

"Beyond what I ever dreamed. But there's nothing more we can do now.
I've made my find at least--but it doesn't seem to make me--as happy
as it ought to. Of course that man--there against the wall--would
naturally keep a man from being very happy. Of, if I could only find
and kill the devil who did it!"

His voice in the gloom was charged with