nd himself pitying any one who
spent his life looking for profit, by wasting a glorious energy,
delving for gold in places where gold was known to be non-existent.

He ruminated on the matter as he went. And wondered. Then there came
to him the memory of vague stories of gold in the vicinity of the
Barnriff. Indian stories it is true. But then Indian stories often had
a knack of having remarkably truthful foundations. Immediately his
busy brain began to construct a syndicate of townspeople to hunt up
the legends, with a small capital to carry on operations. He would
have the lion's share in the concern, of course, and--yes--they might
make Peter Blunt chief operator. And by the time he reached the
boarding-house all his irrigation scheme was forgotten in this new
toy.

CHAPTER IV

JIM PROPOSES

Eve Marsham was in two minds of hailing Peter Blunt as she saw him
pass on his way to his hut. She wanted him. She wanted to ask his
advice about something. Like many others who needed a sympathetic
adviser she preferred to appeal to Peter Blunt rather than to any of
her sex in Barnriff. However, she allowed the opportunity to slip by,
and saw him disappear within his doorway. Then she turned again to the
boy sitting on the rough bench beside her, and a look of alarm leaped
to her soft brown eyes. He was holding out a tiny pup at arm's length,
grasping it by one of its little fore paws.

"Elia, how can you?" she cried. "Put him down, instantly."

The boy turned a bland, beautiful face to her. There was seemingly no
expression beyond surprise in his pale blue eyes.

"He likes it," he said, while the whimpering pup still wriggled in his
grasp.

Eve made a move to take the wretched animal away, but the boy promptly
hugged it to his misshapen breast.

"He's mine," he cried. "I can do what I like with him."

There was no anger in his voice, not even protest. It was a simple
statement of denial that at the same time had no resistance in it.

"Well, don't you be cruel," Eve exclaimed shortly, and her eyes turned
once more in the direction of Peter Blunt's hut.

Her pretty face was very thoughtful. Her sun-tanned cheeks, her tall,
rounded body were the picture of health. She looked as fresh and
wholesome as any wild prairie flower with her rich coloring of almost
tropical splendor. She was neatly dressed, more after town fashion
than in the method of such places as Barnriff, and her expressed
reason for thus diffe