angles, of well-rounded neck and arms and legs
with collar-bones and hips over-apparent, immature but not awkward.

None of the three partners observed these things in detail. All of them
noted that her eyes were steady, friendly, trusting, and that when she
smiled at them it was like the flash of water in a tree-shady pond, when
a trout leaps. Grit, entering with her, divided his attentions among the
men, shoving a moist nose at last into Sandy's palm and lying down
obedient, his tail thumping amicably, as Sandy examined the tape
protectors.

"You lie round the ranch for a day or so," he told the collie, "an'
you'll be as good as new."

"Fo' a sheepdawg," said Mormon, "he sure shapes fine."

Molly's eyes flashed. "He don't _know_ he's a sheepdawg," she protested.
"He's never even seen one, 'less it was a mountain sheep, 'way up
against the skyline. Samson liked him. Don't you like him?"

"I like him fine," Mormon answered hurriedly. "Fine!"

"Ef you-all didn't, we c'ud shack on somewheres. I c'ud git work down to
the settlemints, I reckon. I don't aim to put you out any. I've been
thinkin' erbout that. 'Less you should happen to want a woman to run the
house. I don't know much about housekeepin' but I c'ud l'arn. It's a
woman's job, chasin' dirt. I can cook--some. Dad used to say my
camp-bread an' biscuits was fine. I c'ud earn what I eat, I reckon. An'
what Grit 'ud eat. We don't aim to stay unless we pay--someway."

There was a touch of fire to her independence, a chip on the shoulder of
her pride the three partners recognized and respected.

"See here, Molly Casey,"--Sandy used exactly the same tone and manner he
would have taken with a boy--"that's yore way of lookin' at it. Then
there's our side. You figger yore dad was a pritty good miner, I
reckon?"

"He sure knew rock. Every one 'lowed that. They was always more'n one
wantin' to grubstake him but he'd never take it. Figgered he didn't want
to split any strike he might make an' figgered he w'udn't take no man's
money 'less he was dead sure of payin' him back. Dad was a good miner."

"All right. Now, yore dad believes in them claims. The last two words he
says was 'Molly' and 'mines.' I give him my word then and there, like he
would have to me, to watch out for yore interests. My word is my
pardners' word. I'm willin' to gamble those claims of his'll pan out
some day. Until they do, ef you-all 'll stay on at the Three Star, stop
Mormon stompin' in fro