“Wal, that’s a question fer God Almighty,” Gettysburg replied.  “But there’s the gold, the good yellow gold!  And I’m awful glad fer Van!”

Into the water he dipped his crooked old fingers, and scratching down behind a riffle he fetched up a small amount of gold, doubly bright with the water and the sunlight upon it.

“Gold—­and we git it easy,” he added, repeating:  “I’m awful glad fer Van.  You ought to see him shovel!” He dropped the gold back into the water carelessly.  “It ain’t a-goin’ to do us old jack-legged cusses much good, at our age, but I would like to go to San Francisco this summer once, and shoot the chutes!”

CHAPTER XXIX

SUSPICIOUS ANSWERS

Beth and Van rode away from the claim just after lunch; she on a borrowed horse.  The girl had not slept, but she had rested well and was far more fit for the journey back to town than either she or Van had expected.

He went with her part way only—­far enough to put her safely on a trail from which she could not wander.  They talked but little as they rode—­perhaps because they had so much to say that could not be approached.  Never for a moment did Van relax his vigilance upon himself, or treat her otherwise than as a man for whom he had conceived a natural liking.

When they came to the place of parting he pulled up his broncho and faced about in the trail.

“Well, Kent,” he said, “so long.  You’ll have no trouble now.”  He held forth his hand.

Beth gave him hers—­and all her heart.  Nevertheless, his clasp was as brief as he would give to one of his sex.

“So long,” she answered.  “Good luck.  I am under many obligations.”

“They won’t make you very round shouldered,” he said.  “See you again.”

That was their parting.  He rode back at once—­and Beth continued on her way.  She turned three times in her saddle to watch him as he went, but she did not catch him glancing back.

About sundown she rode into Goldite, went at once to Mrs. Dick’s, and tied her horse to a post.  Mrs. Dick she met in the hall.

“Snakes alive!” exclaimed that lively little person.  “If you ain’t back as natural as life!” The garb had not deceived her for a moment.  “Where in the world have you been, in such a rig?”

Beth’s answer was ready.

“I went to see my brother, and had to spend the night on the desert.”

Mrs. Dick stared at her in wonder.  “Talk to me about the Eastern women being mollycuddles!  You don’t mean his cabin was blown down by the storm?”

Beth was ill-prepared for this, but she met it.

“I wish you could have seen that roof go by!”

“Are you hungry?” the hostess demanded.  “You look all wore out.”

“I am,” Beth admitted.  “Has Mr. Bostwick been here in my absence?”

“He ain’t been here in anything—­nope.”