irst piece discovered.

Crossing herself devoutly she murmured a prayer. That over she kissed
the fragments of quartz in her hand, talking lovingly to them in the
meantime.

"Why did you hide away from me so long? Why cause me to think of
witches, but force me to come to you once and again, and giving me the
illness? That's a funny way, you little rascals! And I will now repay
you by hiding you yet longer from sight of any who might come here. I
will cover you carefully until I come again, or until my father comes
from across the ocean. Then I will give you to him, and he shall find
the rest of your brothers and sisters." She pulled energetically at the
moss and grass at her side in order to make a hiding spot for her newly
discovered friends, as she chose to consider them.

Before putting the last piece beside the others she again kissed it
tenderly, patted it, and giving a little gurgling laugh, said:

"You pretty darlings! Sleep quietly until I come again, and let nobody
find you. See? I will tuck you up, head and heels, with this cover,"
and she replaced the mosses and grass she had just pulled.

"By and by you can make me very happy if you will, when I can be a rich
lady. I have heard old miners talk lovingly of you many times, but they
shall not find you. You are mine! Remember, you are mine!"

With that she gave a last look at the spot where her secret was hidden,
and bounded away down the hillside.

Presently in the valley below she struck an old trail,--one made long
ago by the cattle belonging to the settlement, and the occasional tread,
perhaps, of a few reindeer and goats owned by the mission priest.

Hurrying along toward home she had almost forgotten the flowers she had
intended to gather but now had little time to leave the trail and pluck
them. For the sake of appearance, however, she pulled those happening to
grow alongside her path, not wishing to reach home empty handed.

As it was, her aunt's sharp eyes took notice.

"To be gone so long upon the hills, and yet bring so few blossoms? You
must be slow in bending your back or heedless of the beauty around you.
Where are the buttercups and beautiful blue iris from the field below
the hill? Was the upper bridge gone that you could not cross the stream
at that place either going or coming?" asked the woman, a little
sarcastically.

"No, no, Aunt, but it is early for iris, and the buttercups are not half
so lovely as these bluets and violets. Se