thing like that--the other fellow
had all the trouble. Did Pisen-face Lynch and that Injun come back?
Well, I'll bet they were dragging their tracks out!"

"They didn't come through here, but I saw them on the trail--it must
have been a week ago. But what's all that that you've got in your
pack-sacks--have you been out and got some more ore?"

"Why, sure," answered Wunpost, deftly easing off his kyacks and lowering
the load to the ground. "Didn't I tell you I was going to get some?"

"Yes, but----"

"But what?" he demanded, looking down on her arrogantly, and Wilhelmina
became interested in the dog.

"You have such a funny way of talking," she said at last, "and
besides--would you mind letting me look at it?"

"I sure would!" replied Wunpost; "you leave them sacks alone. And any
time my word ain't as good as gold----"

"Oh, of course it's good!" she protested, and he took her at her word.

"All right, then--I've got the gold."

"Oh, have you really?" she cried, and as he rolled his eyes accusingly
she laughed and bit her lip. "That's just _my_ way of talking," she
explained, rather lamely. "I mean I'm glad--and surprised."

"Well, you'll be more surprised," he said, nodding grimly, "when I show
you a piece of the ore. I sold that last lot to a jeweler in Los Angeles
for twenty-four dollars an ounce, quartz and all--and pure gold is worth
a little over twenty. Talk about your jewelry ore! Wait till I show this
in Blackwater and watch them saloon-bums come through here. Too lazy to
go out and find anything for themselves--all they know is to follow some
poor guy like me and rob him of what he finds. What's the news from down
below?"

"Oh, nothing," answered Billy, and stood watching him doubtfully as he
unsaddled and turned out his gaunted mules. His new black hat was
sweated through already and his clothes were salt-stained and worn, but
it was the look in his eye even more than his clothes which convinced
her he had had a hard trip. He was close-mouthed and grim and the old
rollicking smile seemed to have been lost beneath a two weeks' growth of
beard. Perhaps she had done wrong to speak of the dog first, but she
knew there was something behind.

"Did you have a fight with Mr. Lynch?" she asked at last, and he darted
a quick glance and said nothing. "Because when he went through here,"
she went on finally, "he seemed to be awful quarrelsome."

"Yes, he's quarrelsome," admitted Wunpost, "but so am I. You w