"'Rubbish' is good," commented "Marty," under his breath, but nobody
smiled.

The woman cowered. Accustomed as she was to domineer over the
seemingly weak-willed man, there had been times, within her memory,
when he had thrown off her rule and asserted himself to a degree that
terrified her. She had stumbled upon one of those times now, and sank
back in her place with a deprecating gesture, advancing the flimsy
protest:

"Are they not my bags, so? Sewed I them not with my own hands out of
the skin of the little kid was killed? The covers I knitted with----"

The miner raised his hand, and she dropped her eyes before him.

"Give her what belongs, if you will, good lady, and let us be gone,"
he said, pulling his forelock respectfully to Mrs. Trent.

"Gone! Why no, Wolfgang, not to-night. It's a long way, and you should
wait till morning. Indeed, you should," she replied, at the same time
sending a questioning glance toward John Benton, and pushing toward
Elsa all the empty bags and three of the thousand dollar piles.

For the carpenter nodded swift acquiescence, on his part longing to be
rid of "them miserly Dutchmen, barring the man."

Elsa rapidly recounted, and bestowed the eagles within their
receptacles, and these again, wrapped in a handkerchief, within her
bosom. Then, as coolly as if she had not made an unpleasant exhibition
of herself, she turned to her hostess and smiled:

"I go now, mistress. I thank you already for one good time I have. It
is to buy the mine, one day, for my child. I must be going. Yes, I
must. The stew! Ach! how I forgot! The cat--it was a good stew, no?
And the cat has eat the stew!"

"Then you'd better stew the cat!" suggested Marty, with a facetiousness
to which she paid no heed.

Holding out her hand for Otto to take it, she commanded:

"Little heart, but come. It is in bed you should be, yes. Good-by,
all," adding in German, "May you sleep well!"

Wolfgang followed the retreating pair, but turned on the threshold to
make his obeisance to the ranch mistress, and to say, "At your
service, good lady. My pick and my head." Then, bowing again toward
all the company, he disappeared.

Everybody felt the relief of their departure, and Aunt Sally
humorously threw a kiss after them, remarking, with a sniff:

"Blessed be nothing, if somethin' is going to make a hog out of a
decent woman. That there Elsy'd been content with half she got if she
hadn't seen the rest that heap. I'm a