mind, he rode close to Louise and
claimed immediate and delicious instruction.

"But how _did_ you know?" he asked again--"about the claim and your
father and me?"

"A secret that I share with Overland," she replied.

[Illustration: CAN'T I HAVE ANOTHER ONE, ROSE GIRL?]

"So he told you! When? Not last night. He was asleep when I came away
this morning."

"So he is here, then?"

"Louise, you're joking. Didn't Red talk to you?"

"No."

"And you know all about it already?" He looked at her curiously for a
moment. "Did you know that I said I was going to leave the Moonstone?"

"Why?"

"For the same reason that I can't now--you. Red and Billy Winthrop and I
don't own a cent's worth of the claim now. I don't even own what's in
the bank. All I got is Yuma."

"You gave Yuma to me, Collie."

"I sure did. I haven't even her. But I've got you. Oh, Louise! I can't
believe it. I could just shout. Can't I have another one, Rose Girl?"

"Must I teach you not to ask?" said Louise.

Collie took her other meaning as she made a little mouth at him. "Not
after this," he said, and gave apt proof that he meant it.

"More than a whole carload of gold?" she asked, gazing at him.

"You know _that_, too?"

"Collie?"

"What is it?"

"Promise that you won't speak to any one about the claim, or the
desert, or my father until I say you may."

"Of course I promise."

"Nor about ourselves, until I tell you to."

"Never--if it will make you happy."

* * * * *

Overland Red, sitting on a boulder beside the road, stooped and gathered
up a handful of pebbles. Then, for lack of other interest, he invented a
game of ancient and honorable origin. "She loves me," he said tossing
away a pebble. "She loves me not." And up spun another pebble. So he
continued until the pebbles were gone. "She loves me not," he muttered
lugubriously. Then his face brightened. "Of course she don't. She loves
_him_. That's what I was tryin' to get at, anyway."

He fumbled at a huge bunch of little red flowers called "Hummingbird's
Trumpets." He arranged the hastily constructed bouquet to suit him. Then
he laid it on the rock.

"Accordin' to the latest book on good table-manners, or 'How to Be Happy
Though Dressed Up,' this here bouquet is the proper thing. They'll think
I'm some wiz' when I step out and present these here hummin'birds'
bugles. Huh! I seen the two bosses gone, and I gets wise direct. But I
got to b