me so. Now look your best for Tweet
has something serious to say to you."

She left her then, and an hour later Tweet interrupted Jo and Hiram in
Jo's little cabin on the edge of town. He came in and sat down.

"Well, Jo," he said, "it's a go. We'll go to work and get married
to-morrow mornin', if the old bus will take us to a preacher. I guess
I've loved her some time," Tweet added bashfully. "Lucy and me'll make
nice little playmates."

Hiram rose and gripped his old friend's hand. "I'm mighty glad,
Tweet," he told him. "Just too much Ragtown--that's all that was the
matter with Lucy. She was kind to me up there in Frisco when I'd just
come out of the woods. Her heart's warm, and that's what counts."

Tweet's steel-blue eyes twinkled. "Course nobody could blame her for
makin' you spend four dollars an hour for an automobile," he said. "It
was a crime not to roll you for your jack in those days, Hooker. I
forgave her for that a long time ago."

Next morning Basil Filer drifted into town, driving his recaptured
burros ahead of him. Silently he worked at packing the bags and
throwing diamond hitches.

Jerkline Jo and Hiram stood laughing at the gurgling imps of the
desert, and Jo went up to Filer.

"What does this mean?" she asked. "You're all packed up for a trip."

The weird old eyes looked up at her queerly. "We're goin'--out there,"
croaked Filer, a trembling finger pointing toward the fragrant desert.
"It's spring, Baby Jean--and now's the time to hunt for gold, when
there's lots o' feed for the little fellas."

"Gold!" cried Jo. "Why, man, you've so much money coming to you that
you can't spend it in the rest of your natural life."

"Money?" he said absently. "Yes--you've done me han'some, Baby Jean.
But I ain't got much use for money. Money's only a grubstake, so's you
c'n buy things and go out and hunt for gold. Good-by, folks! Next
fall you'll see me and the little fellas ag'in. Hi, Muta! Lead out!"

And, gripping his staff, he limped off in the wake of his long-eared
companions, swinging their packs from side to side as a mother rocks
the cradle.

"They're all like that," said a man. "It's the hunt for it that keeps
'em goin'. They don't know what to do with it when they get it."

The dark eyes of Jerkline Jo were full of dreams.

"Yes, we're all like that, I imagine," she said.

"And how bout _you_, Jo?" some one asked. "Now that you're rich and
married and all?"