of water from the
spring," and the girl ran a few steps farther.

Returning with the water she said briskly, "now we will eat our lunch
while we rest and talk, for I have a little story to tell you in the
meantime," and the hands at the basket trembled a trifle.

A cloth was spread upon the ground, and the basket's contents turned out
upon it. There was the bottle of buttermilk which Eyllen declared she
would not carry home again, as it might be changed into butter by that
time, and she urged her father to drink it and eat heartily.

"But the story, Eyllen, the story! What is it you will tell me? I doubt
not 'tis some island-lover business, or a new gown you will politely ask
for when your father's appetite is quieted, as is the way of many keen
women, eh, little girl?" said Michaelovitz giving his daughter's pink
right ear a gentle tweak.

"There is neither new gown nor lover in it, and you will never guess, so
I am going directly to tell you," smiled Eyllen. "Do you see this piece
of pretty rock, Father?"

"There you go again with calling rocks pretty. But stay! What is this,
child? Where did you get it? Is there more? Do you know what it is that
sparkles?" questioned the man rapidly, bending forward toward his
daughter.

"Yes, Father, it is gold, and there is much more of it where that comes
from. I have found the ledges."

"You, child? You? How did it happen? Tell me."

Then the girl proceeded to relate her experience with which we are
already familiar; how she first came to drink at the spring, and her
peculiar sensations which were at first affrighting; how she persisted
in returning to the place until by accident she discovered the quartz
pieces in the water; her foolish fears of a water witch, including her
dream, and her decision to wear as a talisman a bit of the gold
besprinkled rock; of her hesitating in telling her father her secret for
fear he would divulge it to his companion, young Shismakoff, at the same
time entreating her listener to keep sacred her confidence for fear that
others would molest the treasure-laden ledges; and lastly, inquiring if
he would, as her partner, accept one half of the property as a present.

"May the blessed saints preserve us! my child, what is this you are
saying? Where are the ledges? Where are they?" and the man sprang to his
feet in excited interest. At that, the buttermilk flask rolled away down
the hillside where it landed against the stones below, breaking in