“Well,” said he, and looked at her with a slow smile, “there probably will be no reason why you may not see as many as you like, in years to come,”

She was amazed.  “This some sort o’ joke?”

“No, Madge.  How would you like to be rich?”

“Me?...  Rich?  Oh ... oh, I’d like it. Then I could go down in th’ bluegrass, study, l’arn, an’—­I could do a heap o’ good aroun’ hyar, too” She sighed.  “But thar never was nobody rich in these hyar mountings an’ I reckon thar never will be.”

“Perhaps you may be,” said the youth, and there was a serious quality in his voice which made her start and then lean forward on her stump to gaze at him with searching, eager eyes.

“Your land down in the valley,” he went on, “may contain coal and iron enough to give you a fortune.  Now there are bad men in this world, and I want you to promise me to sell it to nobody without first coming to me for advice.”

“Promise?” said the girl, the wonder all ashine in her big eyes.  “In course I’ll promise that.  But is there r’ally a chance of it?”

“There really is.”

“Oh, if I only knowed, for shore!  Seems like I couldn’t wait!”

“You shall know, to-night, or, maybe, sooner.  I have the engineers report, but I must study it out carefully and make sure what boundaries he means.  I’m almost certain they include your land.  As soon as I find out I’ll come back here and call to you and let you know.”

“I reckon you won’t have to call!  I’ll be watchin’ for you every minute.”

“Well, I’m off.  But remember what I said about letting anyone buy any of your land from you.  Don’t sell an inch, don’t give an option at whatever price, to anyone without consulting me.”

When he had left, the girl still sat there, dreaming on her stump after she had watched him out of sight.

The news that she might become rich had stirred her deeply for a moment, but, soon she wondered if riches, really, would mean everything, and decided that they would not.

“Somehow,” she mused, “somehow I don’t care much about it, not unless—­unless—­oh, I can’t think of nothin’ in th’ world but him!  An’ he says he’s goin’ to go away, never to return no more!...  Other folks has gone away, afore, but it didn’t seem to hurt my heart like this.  I wonder what is ailin’ me.”

Her thought turned back to that half-bitter, half-delightful moment when he had tried to kiss her at the bridge.  “Why, even then,” she mused, “thar were somethin’ seemed to draw me to him in spite o’ myself.  Never felt anythin’ like it afore.  It war—­just as if I war asleep, all over, an’ never wanted to wake up!  I wonder if I wish he warn’t comin’ back, to-night—­not half so much, I reckon, as I wish he warn’t never goin’ away!”

She left her resting place upon the stump, and, torn by varying emotions, found a place upon the trail where she could look off to his camp.  She was standing there, leaning listlessly against a tree, when the sound of someone coming made her turn her head.  She saw Joe Lorey.