hair _and_ dimples, but Nature had given her both. And now if he
did not kiss her, or speak from his heart, it would be because she was
dressed like a boy; and she would have to lay aside her overalls
forever. For no one can hope to retain everything in this world, and
life is ours to be lived; and if worst came to worst, she might give up
her freedom and consent to wear millinery and skirts. She sighed and
followed on, and came safely to the portal which looked out on the great
world below.

Wunpost sat down deliberately at the mouth of the tunnel, on the broad
seat she had built along the wall, and handed Wilhelmina the package;
and as she sank down beside him the panting fox terrier slumped down at
her feet and wheezed. But Billy failed to notice this sign of affection,
for as the package was broken open a dainty case was exposed and this in
turn revealed a pair of glasses. Not ordinary, cheap field-glasses with
rusty round barrels and lenses that refracted the colors of the rainbow;
but exquisitely small ones, with square shoulders on the sides and
quality showing in every line. She caught them up ecstatically and
looked out across the Sink; and Wunpost let her gaze, though her focus
was all wrong, while he made his little speech.

"Now," he said, "next time you see my dust you'll know whether it's a
man or a dog."

"Oh, aren't they fine!" exclaimed Billy, swinging the glasses on
Blackwater. "I can see every house in town. And there's a man on the
trail--yes, and another one behind--I believe they're coming this way."

"Probably Pisen-face Lynch," observed Wunpost unconcernedly, "I expected
him to be on my trail."

"Why, what for?" murmured Billy still struggling with the focus. "Oh,
now I can see them fine! Oh, aren't these just wonderful--and such
little things, too--are you going to use them to hunt horses?"

"No, they're yours!" returned Wunpost with a generous swagger, "I've got
another pair of my own. I'll never forget how you picked me up that
time, so this is a kind of present."

"A present!" gasped Wilhelmina and then she paused and blushed, for of
course she had known it all the time. They were small glasses, for a
lady, but it was nice of him to say it, and to mention her finding him
on the desert. And now her mother would have to let her keep them, for,
they were in remembrance of her saving his life.

"It's awful kind of you," she said, "and I'll never forget it--and now,
won't you show me ho