had acquired a horse
and mule, both sharp-shod for climbing over rocks, and he had dallied at
Hungry Bill's until the first of the stampeders had come in sight on the
Panamint trail. Then he had set out up the ridge, riding the horse and
packing the mule, and even an Indian trailer had given out and quit
without ever bringing them in sight of him again. He had led them such a
chase that the hardiest came back satisfied, and they agreed that he
could keep his old mine.

The excitement died away or was diverted to other channels, for
Blackwater was having a boom; and, just as Wilhelmina had given up hope
of seeing him, John C. Calhoun came riding down the ridge. Not down the
canyon, where the trail made riding easy, but down the steep ridge
trail, where a band of mountain sheep was accustomed to come for water.
Wilhelmina was in her tunnel, looking down with envious eyes at the
traffic in the valley below; and he came upon her suddenly, so suddenly
it made her jump, for no one ever rode up there.

"Hello!" he hailed, spurring his horse up to the portal and letting out
his rope as he entered. "Kinder hot, out there in the sun. Well, how's
tricks?" he inquired, sitting down in the shade and wiping the streaming
sweat from his eyes. "Hungry Bill says you s-spurned my gold!"

"What did you tell that old Indian?" burst out Wilhelmina wrathfully,
and Wunpost looked up in surprise.

"Why, nothing," he said, "only to get me some grub and give you that
piece of polished rock. How was that for the real old high grade? From
my new mine, up in the high country. What's the matter--did Hungry get
gay?"

"Well--not that," hesitated Wilhelmina, "but he looked at me so funny
that I told him to give it to Mother. What was it you told him about
me?"

"Not a thing," protested Wunpost, "just to give you the rock. Oh, I
know!" He laughed and slapped his leg. "He's scared some prospector will
steal one of them gals, and I told him not to worry about me. Guess that
gave him a tip, because he looked wise as a prairie dog when I told him
to give that specimen to you." He paused and knocked the dust out of his
battered old hat, then glanced up from under his eyebrows.

"Ain't mad, are you?" he asked, "because if you are I'm on my way----"

"Oh, no!" she answered quickly. "Where have you been all the time? Dusty
Rhodes came through here, looking for you."

"Yes, they all came," he grinned, "but I showed 'em some sheep-trails
before they