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A dawning of intelligence came upon Jackson. “No,” he said; “but,” he added bitterly, “what’s the use? He owns the water now,–I couldn’t work it.”

“But, Jack, IF you found the color, this would be a MINING claim! You could claim the water right; and, as it’s your land, your claim would be first!”

Jackson was startled. “Yes, IF I found the color.”

“You WOULD find it.”

“WOULD?”

“Yes! I DID–on the sly! Yesterday morning on your slope by the stream, when no one was up! I washed a panful and got that.” She took a piece of tissue paper from her pocket, opened it, and shook into her little palm three tiny pin points of gold.

“And that was your own idea, Jossy?”

“Yes!”

“Your very own?”

“Honest Injin!”

“Wish you may die?”

“True, O King!”

He opened his arms, and they mutually embraced. Then they separated, taking hold of each other’s hands solemnly, and falling back until they were at arm’s length. Then they slowly extended their arms sideways at full length, until this action naturally brought their faces and lips together. They did this with the utmost gravity three times, and then embraced again, rocking on pivoted feet like a metronome. Alas! it was no momentary inspiration. The most casual and indifferent observer could see that it was the result of long previous practice and shameless experience. And as such–it was a revelation and an explanation.

. . . . . .

“I always suspected that Jackson was playin’ us about that red- haired cousin,” said Rice two weeks later; “but I can’t swallow that purp stuff about her puttin’ him up to that dodge about a new gold discovery on a fresh claim, just to knock out Brown. No, sir. He found that gold in openin’ these irrigatin’ trenches,–the usual nigger luck, findin’ what you’re not lookin’ arter.”

“Well, we can’t complain, for he’s offered to work it on shares with us,” said Briggs.

“Yes–until he’s ready to take in another partner.”

“Not–Brown?” said his horrified companions.

“No!–but Brown’s adopted daughter–that red-haired cousin!”