own low, so low none dream of it, lies that
will make you rich. Will there be anybody anywhere so rich as the
senorita and her little ones? No. But no, not one. This I give you. It
is for the Navidad, the last old Pedro will ever see. And the senorita
answers, 'thank you'!"

He was deeply hurt, and his manner was now full of an eloquent scorn.
He was returning the stone to his breast, when she asked for it
again, saying, gently:

"You are so old and wise, good Pedro, you must bear with my ignorance
and teach me. This is copper, you say. It is very pretty, but how can
it make me rich? I do not understand."

Wolfgang answered for the other, and his phlegmatic face had lost its
ordinary expression for one of keen delight.

"It is true, what the old man tells you, mistress. He means--he must
mean--somewhere on your property lies a vein of this metal. The dead
master thought the coal was fine already. Ay, so, so. But copper!
Mistress Trent, when this vein is mined, what Pedro says--yes, yes. In
all this big country is not one so rich as he who owns a copper mine.
Ach, himmel! It is a queen he has made you, and you say, 'Thank
you!'"

He had fully caught the shepherd's enthusiasm and feeling, and for the
first time in his life looked upon the lady of Sobrante as a
dull-witted person.

But she was no longer dull. Even if it seemed an impossibility that
even this "vein" could be mined, since she had no money to waste in an
experiment so costly, still she realized, at last, what Pedro's will
had been. Catching his hand between her own soft palms, she pressed it
gratefully, and beamed upon him till he smiled again.

"Whatever comes of it. Pedro, you have given us a royal aguinaldo[B],
and I do appreciate it. Come now, and share our rejoicing over that
greater good that you have brought to Sobrante--the salvation of its
little captain. For that--for that--I have not even the 'thank you';
my feeling is too deep."

Though he showed it little, the old man was almost as moved as she,
and he followed her as proudly as if he were the "king" his fellow
ranchmen called him. Yet even pride did not prevent his being cautious
still, and he carried the basket and staff away with him, though
Wolfgang protested, and asked, angrily now:

"The money? Is it not my Elsa's, yes? Would you break her heart
already, and the little one so needing it?"

Mrs. Trent laughed. She, too, wondered that the Indian had not at once
surrendered the o