m the kiss
and more. "I was afraid the Indians had killed you," she explained, and
he patted her hands and stood dumb. Something poignant was striving
within him for expression, but he could only pat her hands.

"Nope," he said and slipped his arm around her waist, at which
Wilhelmina looked up and smiled. She had intended to quarrel with him,
so he would depart for Los Angeles and leave her free to go steal his
mine--but that was aeons ago, before she knew her own heart or realized
how wrong it would be.

"You like me; don't you, kid?" he remarked at last, and she nodded and
looked away.

"Sometimes," she admitted, "and then you spoil it all. You must take
your arm away now."

He took his arm away, and then it crept back again in a rapturous,
bear-like hug.

"Aw, quit your fooling, kid," he murmured in her ear, "you know you like
me a lot. And say, I'm going to ask you a leading question--will you
promise to answer 'Yes'?"

He laughed and let her go, all but one hand that he held, and then he
drew her back.

"You know what I mean," he said. "I want you to be my wife."

He waited, but there was no answer; only a swaying away from him and a
reluctant striving against his grip. "Come on," he urged, "let's go in
to Los Angeles and you can help me spend my money. I've got lots of it,
kid, and it's yours for the asking--the whole or any part of it. But
you're too pretty a girl to be shut up here in Jail Canyon, working your
hands off at packing ore and slaving around like Hungry Bill's
daughters----"

"What do you mean?" she demanded, striking his hands aside and turning
to face him angrily, and Wunpost saw he had gone too far.

"Aw, now, Wilhelmina," he pleaded, then fell into a sulky silence as she
tossed back her curls and spoke.

"Don't you think," she burst out, "that I like to work for my father?
Well, I do; and I ought to do more! And I'd like to know where Hungry
Bill comes in----"

"He don't!" stated Wunpost, who was beginning to see red; but she rushed
on, undeterred.

"----because you don't need to think I'm a _squaw_. We may be poor,
but you can't buy _me_--and my father doesn't need to keep
_watch_ of me. I guess I've been brought up to act like a lady, if
I did--oh, I just hate the sight of you!"

She ended a little weakly, for the memory of that kiss made her blush
and hang her head; but Wunpost had been trained to match hate with a
hate, and he reared up his mane and stepped back.

"Aw,