ied
Kelley.

"Cheerful lot!" exclaimed the girl. "It smells morbific."

"You can't be particular up here," responded Fred. "You'll find our
boarding-place somewhat crude."

"Oh, I don't mind crudeness--but I hate decayed pretensions. If this
were only a mountain cart now!"

"It was the only kerridge with springs," explained Kelley.

The little mother now began to take notice of her son's partner. "My son
tells me you have been very good to him--a kind of big brother. I am
very grateful."

"Oh, I've done no more for him than he has for me. We both felt kind of
lonesome and so rode alongside."

"It's wonderful to me how you could keep Mr. Kelley out of your
letters," said Florence. "He looks exactly like a Remington character,
only his eyes are honester and his profile handsomer."

Kelley flushed and Fred laughed. "I never did understand why Remington
made all his men cross-eyed."

Mrs. Morse put her small, cold hand on Kelley's wrist. "Don't mind my
daughter. She's got this new fad of speaking her mind. She's a good
daughter--even if she does say rude things."

"Oh, I don't mind being called 'a good-looker,'" said Kelley, "only I
want to be sure I'm not being made game of."

"You needn't worry," retorted Fred. "A man of your inches is safe from
ridicule."

"Ridicule!" exclaimed Florence, with a glance of admiration. "You can't
ridicule a tall pine."

"I told you she'd have you a part of the landscape," exulted Fred.
"She'll have you a mountain peak next."

Kelley, who felt himself at a disadvantage, remained silent, but not in
a sulky mood. The girl was too entertaining for that. It amused him to
get the point of view of a city-bred woman to whom everything was either
strange or related to some play or story she had known. The cabins, the
mills, the occasional miners they met, all absorbed her attention, and
when they reached the little shaft-house and were met by old Hank
Stoddard, Kelley's partner, her satisfaction was complete, for Hank had
all the earmarks of the old prospector--tangled beard, jack-boots, pipe,
flannel shirt, and all. He was from the South also, and spoke with a
drawl.

"Oh, but he is a joy!" Florence said, privately, to Kelley. "I didn't
know such Bret Harte types existed any more. How did you find him?"

"I used to know him down on the Perco. He had a mine down there that
came just within a hair-line of paying, and when I ran across him up
here he had a notion the mine would d