ryone and simply tolerated him as
she did Hungry Bill. He ate a good breakfast, but without saying much,
and then he went back to his camp.

Wilhelmina tagged along, joyous as a child to have company and quite
innocent of what is called maidenly reserve; and Wunpost dug down into
his pack and gave her a bag of candy, at the same time patting her hand.

"Yours truly," he said, "sweets to the sweet, and all that. Say, what do
you think this is?"

He held up a box, which might contain almost anything that was less than
six inches square, and shook his head at all her guesses.

"Come on up to the lookout," he said at last and she followed along
fearlessly behind him. There are maidens, of course, who would refuse to
enter dark tunnels in the company of masterful young prospectors; but
Wilhelmina had yet to learn both fear and feminine subterfuge and she
made no pretty excuses. She was neither afraid of the dark, nor
afflicted with vertigo, nor reminded of pressing home duties; and she
was frankly interested both in the contents of the box and the ways of a
man with a maid. He had given her some candy, and there was a gift in
the little box--and once before he had made as if to kiss her; would he
now, after bringing his lover's gifts, demand the customary tribute? And
if so, should she permit it; and if not, why not?

It was very perplexing and yet Billy was determined not to evade any of
the problems of life. All girls had their suitors; and yet few of them,
she knew, were cast in the heroic mold of Wunpost. He was big and
strong, with roving blue eyes and a smile that was both compelling and
shy; and sometimes when he looked at her she felt a vague tumult, for of
course he could kiss her if he would. When he had assaulted Old Whiskers
and seized Dusty Rhodes by the throat, in the contest over their mine,
she had stood in awe of his violence; but except for that one time when
he had attempted to steal a kiss, he had reserved his rough violence for
his enemies. Yet--and somehow the thought thrilled her--it might be,
after all, that he was shy; and that playful, bear-like hug was only his
boyish way of hinting at the wish in his heart.

It might even be that he was secretly in love with her, as she had read
of other lovers in books; and that all the time, unknown to her, he was
worshiping her beauty from afar. For she was beautiful, she knew it--and
others had told her so--and there are few girls indeed that have curling