wise to where it came from, I could say good-bye to railroading and
hit the high places for Nebraska and Sarah.

"And then the beans were spilled . . . by accident. Come a letter
from Wisconsin. My Aunt Eliza 'd died and up and left me her big
farm. I let out a whoop when I read it; but I could have canned my
joy, for I was jobbed out of it by the courts and lawyers
afterward--not a cent to me, and I'm still paying 'm in
instalments.

"But I didn't know, then; and I prepared to pull back to God's
country. Paloma got sore, and Vahna got the weeps. 'Don't go!
Don't go!' That was her song. But I gave notice on my job, and
wrote a letter to Sarah here--didn't I, Sarah?

"That night, sitting by the fire like at a funeral, Vahna really
loosened up for the first time.

"'Don't go,' she says to me, with old Paloma nodding agreement with
her. 'I'll show you where my brother got the nugget, if you don't
go.' 'Too late,' said I. And I told her why.

"And told her about me waiting for you back in Nebraska," Mrs.
Jones observed in cold, passionless tones.

"Now, Sarah, why should I hurt a poor Indian girl's feelings? Of
course I didn't.

"Well, she and Paloma talked Indian some more, and then Vahna says:
'If you stay, I'll show you the biggest nugget that is the father