Producing a pencil and a sheet of his scanty supply of paper, he was soon at work before the door of his tent.  The bottom of a biscuit box, placed at the proper angle on the stump of a jack-pine, formed his easel.  Perched upon another box, he was soon busily engaged upon the outline of what was to be his masterpiece.  Forgotten was everything else as he sat there, devoting all the energy of heart, mind, and hand to the work before him.  The miners might delve for gold; Curly and his companions might gamble to their hearts’ content; such things were nothing to him.  He had struck a vein of wealth, the true gold of love, by the side of which all the treasures of earth were as dross.

And as he worked, a shadow suddenly fell across the picture.  Looking quickly up, he was surprised to see Frontier Samson standing quietly by his side, looking intently upon the sketch.

“You startled me,” and Reynolds gave a slight laugh, feeling for the instant a sense of embarrassment.

“Caught in the act, eh?” the prospector queried.

“It seems so, doesn’t it?  I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Oh, I don’t mean you, young man.  I was thinkin’ of her,” and Samson pointed to the picture.  “Where did ye ketch her?”

“Out on the hills.  Isn’t she wonderful?”

“Mebbe she is an’ mebbe she isn’t,” was the cautious reply.

“Have you any doubt about it?” Reynolds somewhat impatiently asked.

“Wall, no, I s’pose not.  I’ll take yer word fer it.”

“But can’t you see for yourself, man, what she is?”

“H’m, d’ye expect me to see what you do in that picter?”

“And why not?”

“Simply ’cause I’m not as young as you are.  Now that,” and he pointed to the sketch, “doesn’t tell me much.  I see some drawin’s thar of a gal on horseback, but they don’t show me the gal herself.  They don’t tell me anything about the sound of her voice, the look in her eyes, nor the heavin’ of her buzom.  I can’t see what her mind’s like, nor her heart, fer that matter.  Them’s the things ye can’t draw, an’ them’s the things by which I judge a gal.”

“But good gracious! if you saw her only once you would know what she’s like; the most wonderful creature in the whole world.  Heaven and earth must have combined in bestowing upon her their choicest graces.”

“When did ye see her like that?” and Samson again motioned to the sketch.

“Yesterday; out in the hills.”

“On horseback?”

“Yes, and face to face with a grizzly.”

“A grizzly!”

“It certainly was, and a monster, too.  My! you should have seen the way she handled her horse when the brute was coming toward her.  Some day I am going to sketch her as she looked when the horse was rearing backward.  This drawing merely shows her in repose when last I saw her.”

“An’ what happened to the grizzly?” the old man queried.