have read in French, and he had a good right to be
crooked about it, and no power could get him away from it."

"Hush, my dear, hush! It is not at all good for young people to let
their minds run on so. But this gold looks very good indeed. Are you
sure that it is a fair sample, and that there is any more of it?"

"How can you be so dreadfully provoking, Uncle Sam, when I tell you that
I saw it with my own eyes? And there must be at least half a ton of it."

"Well, half a hundred-weight will be enough for me. And you shall have
all the rest, my dear--that is, if you will spare me a bit, Miss Remy.
It all belongs to you by discovery, according to the diggers' law. And
your eyes are so bright about it, miss, that the whole of your heart
must be running upon it."

"Then you think me as bad as the rest of the world! How I wish that I
had never seen it! It was only for you that I cared about it--for you,
for you; and I will never touch a scrap of it."

Mr. Gundry had only been trying me, perhaps. But I did not see it in
that light, and burst into a flood of childish tears, that he should
misunderstand me so. Gold had its usual end, in grief. Uncle Sam rose up
to soothe me and to beg my pardon, and to say that perhaps he was harsh
because of the treatment he had received from his friends. He took me in
his arms and kissed me; but before I could leave off sobbing, the crack
of a rifle rang through the house, and Suan Isco, with a wail, rushed
out.

CHAPTER XIII

THE SAWYER'S PRAYER

The darkness of young summer night was falling on earth and tree and
stream. Every thing looked of a different form and color from those of
an hour ago, and the rich bloom of shadow mixed with color, and cast
by snowy mountains, which have stored the purple adieu of the sun, was
filling the air with delicious calm. The Sawyer ran out with his shirt
sleeves shining, so that any sneaking foe might shoot him; but, with
the instinct of a settler, he had caught up his rifle. I stood beneath
a carob-tree, which had been planted near the porch, and flung fantastic
tassels down, like the ear-rings of a negress. And not having sense
enough to do good, I was only able to be frightened.

Listening intently, I heard the sound of skirring steps on the other
side of and some way down the river; and the peculiar tread, even thus
far off, was plainly Suan Isco's. And then in the stillness a weary and
heavy foot went toiling after it. Before I coul