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“You’ll be surprised at what the sun will do in two hours,” Kelley said, encouragingly. “You’ll peel afterward, but you’ll get rid of the bleach.”

II

In truth Morse looked very well the next morning as he stood beside Kelley and watched the High Line train come in over the shoulder of Mogallon and loop its cautious way down the mine-pitted slopes. His main uneasiness was caused by the thought that his mother might ask some man on the train if he knew her son, and he was disturbed also by a number of citizens lounging on the platform. Some of them were curious about the change in him: “Hello, Fred! Going fishing, or been?”

The boy was trembling as he laid his hand on Kelley’s arm. “Ed, I feel like a coyote. It’s a dang shame to fool your old mother like this.”

“Better to fool her than to disappoint her,” answered Tall Ed. “Stiffen up, boy! Carry it through.”

The little train drew up to the station and disgorged a crowd of Italian workmen from the smoker and a throng of tourists from the observation-car, and among these gay “trippers” Kelley saw a small, plain little woman in black and a keen-eyed, laughing girl who waved her hand to Fred. “Why, she’s a queen!” thought Kelley.

Mrs. Morse embraced her son with a few murmured words of endearment, but the girl held her brother off and looked at him. “Well, you do look the part,” she said. “What a glorious sunburn–and the boots–and the hat, and all! Why, Fred, you resemble a man.”

“I may resemble one,” he said, “but here’s the real thing. Here’s my partner, Tall Ed Kelley.” He pulled Kelley by the arm. “Ed, this is my mother–“

“Howdy, ma’am,” said Kelley, extending a timid hand.

“And this is my sister Florence.”

“Howdy, miss,” repeated Kelley.

Florence laughed as she shook hands. “He says ‘Howdy’ just like the books.”

Kelley stiffened a bit. “What should a feller say? Howdy’s the word.”

“I told you she’d consider you part of the scenery,” put in Fred. “Well, now, mother, we’re going to take you right up to our mine. It’s away on top of that hill–“

“Oh, glorious!” exclaimed Florence. “And is it a real mine?”

“It is. But Kelley is boss, so I’m going to let him tell you all about it. He’s the man that found it.”

Mrs. Morse looked up at the towering hill. “How do we get there?”

“A trolley-car runs part way, and then–we’ll take a cab. Come on,” he added, anxiously, for he could see some of his saloon friends edging near.

The trolley came down almost to the station, and in a few moments they were aboard with Kelley seated beside Florence and Mrs. Morse fondly clinging to her son, who seemed more boyish than ever to Kelley. The old trailer was mightily embarrassed by his close contact with a sprightly girl. He had never known any one like her. She looked like the pictures in the magazines–same kind of hat, same kind of jacket and skirt–and she talked like a magazine story, too. Her face was small, her lips sweet, and her eyes big and bright.

She was chatty as a camp bird, and saw everything, and wanted to know about it. Why were there so many empty cabins? What was the meaning of all those rusty, ruined mills? Weren’t there any gardens or grass?

“Why, you see, miss, the camp is an old busted camp. I’m working a lease–I mean, we are–“

“What do you mean by a lease?”

“Well, you see, a lot of men have got discouraged and quit, and went back East and offered their claims for lease on royalty, and I and another feller–and Fred–we took one of these and it happened to have ore in it.”

“How long has Fred been with you?–he never mentioned you in his letters.”

“Why, it’s about a year since we took the lease.” Kelley began to grow hot under her keen eyes.