Woman spoke of it again.

CHAPTER XXII

Oddly enough, it was Lucy Lily who unconsciously brought Casey to his
rainbow. Lucy Lily did not mean to do Casey any favor, I can assure you,
but Fate just took her and used her for the moment, and Lucy Lily had
nothing to say about it.

Don't think that a squaw who wants to live like a white princess will
forget to go hunting a gold mine whose richness she had seen,--in a lard
bucket, perhaps. Lucy Lily did not abandon her bait. She used it again,
and a renegade white man snapped at it, worse luck. So they went hunting
through the Tippipahs for the mine of Injun Jim. What excuses the squaw
made for not being able to lead the man directly to the spot, I can't say,
of course; but I suppose she invented plenty.

She did one clever thing, at least. In their wanderings she led the way
into the old camp of Injun Jim. There had been no storm to dim the tracks
Casey had made, and Lucy Lily, Indian that she was, knew that these were
the tracks of Casey Ryan and guessed what was his errand there. So she and
her white man trailed him across the valley to Two Peak.

They came first to the camp, and there the Little Woman met them, and by
some canny intuition knew who they were and what they wanted,--thanks to
Casey's garrulous mood when he told her of Lucy Lily. They said that they
were hunting horses, and presently went on over the ridge; not following
Casey's plain trail to the tunnel, but riding off at an angle so that they
could come into the trail once they were hidden from the house.

Casey, as it happened, was not at the tunnel at all, but over at the gold
mine, doing the location work. Doing it in the side hill a good two
hundred feet away from the gold streak, too, I will add.

The Little Woman watched until the squaw and her man were out of sight,
and then she took a small canteen and filled it, got her rifle, pocketed
her automatic revolver, and tied Babe's sunbonnet firmly under Babe's
double chin. She could not take the mule, because Casey had ridden him, so
she walked, and carried Babe most of the way on her back. She kept to the
gulches until she was too far away to be seen in the sage, even when a
squaw was squinting sharp-eyed after her.

She came, in the course of two hours or so, to the lip of the canyon, and
who-whooed to Casey, mucking out after a shot he had put down in the
location hole. Casey looked up, waved his hand and then came running. No
whim wo