ailed his axe between his legs to a
stump and sat down, wiping his forehead with his sleeve, and imparting
to it the appearance of a slate with a difficult sum partly rubbed out.
He looked despairingly at Lance. "In course," he said, with a deep
sigh, "you naturally ain't got any money. In course you left your
pocketbook, containing fifty dollars, under a stone, and can't find it.
In course," he continued, as he observed Lance put his hand to his
pocket, "you've only got a blank check on Wells, Fargo & Co. for a
hundred dollars, and you'd like me to give you the difference?"

Amused as Lance evidently was at this, his absolute admiration for Flip
absorbed everything else. With his eyes fixed upon the girl, he briefly
assured the old man that he would pay for everything he wanted. He did
this with a manner quite different from the careless, easy attitude he
had assumed toward Flip; at least the quickwitted girl noticed it, and
wondered if he was angry. It was quite true that ever since his eye had
fallen upon another of his own sex, its glance had been less frank and
careless. Certain traits of possible impatience, which might develop
into man-slaying, were coming to the fore. Yet a word or a gesture of
Flip's was sufficient to change that manner, and when, with the fretful
assistance of her father, she had prepared a somewhat sketchy and
primitive repast, he questioned the old man about diamond-making. The
eye of Dad kindled.

"I want ter know how ye knew I was making diamonds," he asked, with a
certain bashful pettishness not unlike his daughter's.

"Heard it in 'Frisco," replied Lance, with glib mendacity, glancing at
the girl.

"I reckon they're gettin' sort of skeert down there--them jewelers,"
chuckled Dad, "yet it's in nater that their figgers will have to come
down. It's only a question of the price of charcoal. I suppose they
didn't tell you how I made the discovery?"

Lance would have stopped the old man's narrative by saying that he knew
the story, but he wished to see how far Flip lent herself to her
father's delusion.

"Ye see, one night about two years ago I had a pit o' charcoal burning
out there, and tho' it had been a-smouldering and a-smoking and
a-blazing for nigh unto a month, somehow it didn't charcoal worth a
cent. And yet, dog my skin, but the heat o' that er pit was suthin
hidyus and frightful; ye couldn't stand within a hundred yards of it,
and they could feel it on the stage road three mi