say."

"Well, good-by," said Fleming, extending his hand.

"Ye didn't tell me what luck ye had with the pan," she said, delaying
taking his hand.

Fleming shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, my usual luck,--nothing," he
returned, with a smile.

"Ye seem to keer more for gettin' yer old ring back than for any luck,"
she continued. "I reckon you ain't much o' a miner."

"I'm afraid not."

"Ye didn't say wot yer name was, in case dad wants to know."

"I don't think he will want to; but it's John Fleming."

She took his hand. "You didn't tell me yours," he said, holding the
little red fingers, "in case I wanted to know."

It pleased her to consider the rejoinder intensely witty. She showed all
her little teeth, threw away his hand, and said:--

"G' long with ye, Mr. Fleming. It's Tinka"--

"Tinker?"

"Yes; short for Katinka,--Katinka Jallinger."

"Good-by, Miss Jallinger."

"Good-by. Dad's name is Henry Boone Jallinger, of Kentucky, ef ye was
ever askin'."

"Thank you."

He turned away as she swiftly re-entered the house. As he walked away,
he half expected to hear her voice uplifted again in the camp-meeting
chant, but he was disappointed. When he reached the top of the hill he
turned and looked back at the cabin.

She was apparently waiting for this, and waved him an adieu with the
humble pan he had borrowed. It flashed a moment dazzlingly as it caught
the declining sun, and then went out, even obliterating the little
figure behind it.

PART II

Mr. Jack Fleming was indeed "not much of a miner." He and his
partners--both as young, hopeful, and inefficient as himself--had
for three months worked a claim in a mountain mining settlement
which yielded them a certain amount of healthy exercise, good-humored
grumbling, and exalted independence. To dig for three or four hours in
the morning, smoke their pipes under a redwood-tree for an hour at
noon, take up their labors again until sunset, when they "washed up"
and gathered sufficient gold to pay for their daily wants, was, without
their seeking it, or even knowing it, the realization of a charming
socialistic ideal which better men than themselves had only dreamed of.
Fleming fell back into this refined barbarism, giving little thought to
his woodland experience, and no revelation of it to his partners. He had
transacted their business at the mining town. His deviations en route
were nothing to them, and small account to himself.

The third day after hi