and and I understand each other perfectly."

Late in the afternoon she emerged from the mouth of her valley and,
crossing a familiar tongue of bench, found herself upon the trail near
the point of its intersection with Monte's Creek. Turning up the
creek, she stopped for a few minutes' chat with Ma Watts.

"Law sakes! Climb right down an' set a while. I wus sayin' to Watts
las' night how we-all hain't see nawthin' of yo' fer hit's goin' on a
couple of weeks 'cept yo' hirein' the team, an' not stoppin' in to
speak of, comin' er goin'. How be yo'? An' I 'spect yo' hain't found
yer pa's claim yet. I saved yo' up a dozen of aigs. Hed to mighty near
fight off that there Lord Clendennin' he wanted 'em so bad. But I
done tol' him yo' wus promised 'em, an' yo'd git 'em not nary nother.
So there they be, honey, all packed in a pail with hay so's they won't
break. No sir, I tol' him how he couldn't hev' 'em if he wus two
lords. An' all the time we wus a-augerin', Mr. Bethune an' Microby
Dandeline sot out yonder a-talkin' an' laughin', friendly as yo'
please." Ma Watts paused for breath and her eye fell upon her spouse,
who stood meekly beside the kitchen door. "Watts, where's yer manners?
Cain't yo' say 'howdy' to Mr. Sinclair's darter--an' her a-payin' yo'
good money fer rent an' fer team hire. Yo' ort to be 'shamed, standin'
gawpin' like a mud turkle. Folks 'ud think yo' hain't got good sense."

"I aimed to say 'howdy' first chanct I got." He shoved a chair toward
the girl. "Set down an' take hit easy a spell."

"Where is Microby?" she asked, refusing the proffered seat with a
smile, and leaning lightly against her saddle.

"Land sakes, I don't know! She's gittin' that no 'count, she goes
pokin' off somewhere's in the hills on Gee Dot. Says she's
a-prospectin'--like they all says when they're too lazy to do reg'lar
work."

"My father was a prospector," answered the girl, quickly, "and there
wasn't a lazy bone in his body. And I'm a prospector, and I'm sure I'm
not lazy."

"Law, there I went an' done hit!" exclaimed Ma Watts, contritely. "I
didn't mean no real honest-to-Gawd, reg'lar prospectors like yo' pa
wus, an' yo', an' Mr. Bethune. But there's that Vil Holland, he's a
cowpuncher, when he works, and a prospector when he don't. An' there's
Lord Clendennin', he's a prospector all the time, 'cause he don't
never work--an' that's the way hit goes. An' Microby Dandeline's
a-gittin' as triflin' as the rest. Mr. Bethune, h