Pressing the old woman's skinny hand in his own, the Lieutenant filled it with gold pieces, saying as he did so:

"Here is money with which to buy blankets. Take it. You are a wonderful woman, and you shall never suffer. You shall have a warm house and plenty of coal for the winter, and I will see now that you reach your camp safely. You have served us well, and I thank you."

So saying, the white man covered the iron chest, and even replaced the stones above as they had found them. They then returned to Klukwan and their own cabin.

Later, the Lieutenant was successful in gathering information from Indians at Bennett and Tahku, relative to boundary marks and monuments, which was also of great service to him in establishing the fact that the line as it then stood was the one of the original Russian owners, and that no power had authority to change it.

By arbitration between the two countries the matter was finally adjusted, leaving the miners of Rainy Hollow, as well as those of the Porcupine District and other places, in peaceful possession of their lands as they desired; but of those who had given assistance to the United States officials while inquiring into the location of Boundary marks, none had given more satisfactory and timely aid than Tillie, the Chilkat Indian, when she led the white men to the Old Stone House on the Summit.



CHAPTER VIII

A MINER'S OWN STORY

The woman I loved above all others in this world had been my happy wife for a number of years when we decided to come to hunt for Alaskan gold.

We lived only for each other. Our attachment was very great, a feeling which at the first time of meeting sprang suddenly into existence. My love for my wife was my ruling passion, my ambition for Alaskan gold being always secondary, as were all other earthly concerns.

Her attachment for me was of a like nature, warm and sincere.

My greatest anxiety was her health. Never entirely robust, she had gradually grown less so, even with all my tender care, and as her mind grew and expanded her body became more frail. At last our physician prescribed an entire change of life and scene. As I was not a rich man, and must wherever I went still manage to bring in by business methods enough for our support, it was an important question with us for some time where we should settle.

Olga (for that was the name of my little wife) wished to go to Alaska. There she thought we could together search for the precious mineral only recently discovered in various places; and though the journey was a long one she argued that the change would be beneficial to her.

So we came to the northern gold fields. Fortune favored us for two years. Our claims were turning out so well that we planned to build a good house in town soon which would be a comfortable home until, after the further growth of our bank account, we could leave the country forever.

Before that time arrived, however, a thunder bolt had fallen—Olga was dead.

I had gone for two days to my claims on the creeks ten miles away, leaving her alone. At night she was to have the company of a woman friend in order that she might not feel lonely, and the following evening I was to be at home again.

How I hated to leave her! Something like an unseen hand upon my arm held me back; but my men were even then awaiting my orders and I was obliged to go. To remain at home now meant a loss of thousands of dollars as the late rains had so swollen the creeks that sluicing was in full blast after many weeks of waiting on account of scarcity of water.

Olga was in her usual health and smiled brightly, standing in the doorway when I pressed my lips to her for a good-bye.

"Don't get lonesome, dear, I'll be back as soon as possible, and bring a good-size poke full of nuggets with me, too," said I hurrying away in the direction of the hills where my claims were situated.

Looking back from the tundra trail which I had been putting behind me as fast as possible for some time, I saw her standing in the doorway looking after me, but whether she had remained as I left her, or whether she had returned to the door after going inside, I never knew.

The next time I saw her she was dead.

I had walked ten miles to my claim and superintended the daily "clean-up" at the sluice boxes, securing as I had said I would a poke full of golden nuggets worth several thousand dollars.

It was a splendid clean-up, but for some unexplainable reason I was restless and uneasy. I had seen so much gold it was getting to be an old story; or my meals had not digested well; or perhaps I was working too hard—I tried in these ways to account for my indifference. My mind wandered from the work in hand. I looked often in the direction of home and Olga, but the hills were between us. I slept fitfully at night, after waking with a start which disturbed me greatly. At last I looked at my watch. It was past midnight, and I determined to go home.

Going to the creek where the night gang was at work, shoveling into the sluice boxes, I told the foreman I was starting for home, as I believed something had happened.

"You're nervous!" he said.

"I don't care what you call it; I'm going home to see how things are there," and I hurried away toward town.

"Don't worry, Mr. A.", called out the man after me, "Your wife's all right," then in a lower tone to himself, "That fellow'll go daffy over his little wife, as he calls her, if he isn't careful. It's a good thing I haven't any, for I couldn't watch her like that if I did have, that's certain."

I hurried on over the trail, the night being light and clear, the grass dewy, and the sun about to rise; for it was midsummer in Alaska.

Afterwards I remembered these things.

When half way home I saw a horseman coming toward me. He was riding rapidly, and when he drew near I recognized a neighbor. He reined in his horse.

"Good morning, Mr. A.," said he.

"What is it, Peter, tell me quick! Has anything happened at home?" I cried impatiently.

"Mr. A., I am sorry to tell you, but you're"—

"Don't say she is dead! Don't say that!" I begged.

"Mount my horse, and I'll follow. Go as fast as you can for the animal is fresh," said he; but I heard nothing, saw nothing. I was simply clinging to the saddle, as the animal galloped back over the trail.

In a dazed condition I reached home. Our cabin was filled with sympathetic friends, trying to assist in some way. As I came in they dispersed, leaving me alone with Olga.

They had placed her upon a couch where she lay with a sweet smile upon her lips, but they were cold when I kissed them—her heart had ceased to beat, and for the first time in all our lives there was no answering pressure when I took her hands in mine.

Oh, the agony of that moment! No tongue can tell, no pen describe, the awful loneliness of that hour. She had been part of my life—of me. I could not live without her; I did not want to try.

Oh, God! How could I bear it? What should I do? I had given her my love, my life, and now she was dead—everything was swept away and there was absolutely nothing to live for. If I could only die! Dare I take my own life? No, for that would then mean everlasting separation, as she was doubtless now in the happiest state to which mortals could be assigned. I must try to reach her no matter at what cost. For hours I knelt beside her with her hands in mine, and my cheek beside her cold one.

I was again talking to Olga, as I fondled her face, her hair, her hands.

"Speak to me, my darling," I pleaded, "if only once more. I cannot live without you. Why did you leave me? How could you go without telling me? Surely you did not intend to do it, did you, darling?" Eagerly I watched her face to see her blue eyes open and her lips once more move. Could I bring her back by calling her? It might be so; and then I tried, repeating her name again and again, tenderly, lovingly, oh, so lovingly!

Hours passed thus. The smile on her lips remained. Presently I listened, my arms about her neck and my head upon her breast.

I was quiet now. The awful storm which had well-nigh uprooted my very soul was gradually subsiding. I must be ready to hear her if she should come back with a message.

This I believed she would do. Many times we had talked together of these things, and each had faithfully promised the other to return, if possible, with comfort and assistance from the mysterious beyond in the event of a separation by death.

I could see her now as she looked while speaking, and then I grew calmer immediately.

I would wait.

By and by it came—only two words.

"The letter."

The letter! Where was it? I had not seen it—I had not thought to look for such a thing because her departure came so suddenly. A burning building close to our cabin, with wind blowing the flames toward her, had caused the fright and heart failure which deprived me of Olga—but a letter! I would search for it.

Among her writing materials I found it. A sealed packet, directed to me in her own dainty Swedish handwriting.

I cannot reproduce it here. It was for my eyes only, and written a week previously; but she said she was expecting soon to be called away. She did not wish to worry me with goodbyes, and in truth there was no need of saying them for she would be as constantly with me as ever, even though I could not always see her. She did not want me to forget her and hoped I could conveniently manage to keep the poor little body (in which she had lived for nearly thirty years) quite close to me where I could sometimes look upon her face.

All this and much more she had written; each letter and word of which comforted me as only Olga knew how to comfort, because she understood my very soul.

We had been made for each other. We were souls twinned in creation by a higher power than many know; but it had been given us to understand in her lifetime, and now that she had been called away for a season I must bear it as patiently as possible for her sake, and I would. God helping me, I would bear it! And my unreasoning grief should not disturb her quietude.

The day passed.

In the evening a knock at the door brought me back to my objective senses. I had been oblivious to the outside world all day.

"We thought you might like some coffee and supper, and I have brought it to you," said a kind miner, who was also a neighbor.

"Wife and I will come and stay all night here if you will go to our cabin and get some rest."

I thanked him, declining his last offer, but drank the hot coffee. I then asked him if he would go out and secure the use of the adjoining vacant log cabin for me, so that I could immediately move into it.

This he did, returning in half an hour, asking what further service he could render.

I told him I would move all my belongings into the log cabin, leaving Olga here. This was her house, and it was still to be her home.

By midnight this was done. The man had gone home after making me promise to call him when I wanted help.

In Olga's cabin of two small rooms there remained only a stove, a couch upon which she still rested, and an easy lounging chair.

The door at the front I soon padlocked on the outside, and barricaded within, leaving the back door as the only entrance. Next a man was hired to dig a narrow trench about the whole cabin to conduct all surface water away from the lot. During the hours following I busied myself with the receptacle which would contain the still beautiful, but now discarded body, of my darling Olga.

Carefully removing a part of the flooring in the center of the room, I began digging underneath. The ground was frozen. A pick and shovel in my hands found their way into the frost-locked earth and gravel; but at a depth of about five feet I stopped.

Her bed was deep enough; also long and wide enough. Its walls were of ice.

They had dressed her in a robe of pale blue veiling, distinctly suited to her, upon which rested the long braids of her yellow hair, while her only ornament was her wedding ring upon her finger.

How perfectly serene and happy she looked! I fully expected her to open her lips and speak. When this did not happen, the sense of my awful loss surged back into my brain, seeming almost to take my reason; but another quiet hour by the side of my darling partially restored me.

It was midnight. A perfect storm of grief had just spent itself and left me weak and weary. I threw myself, with a heavy sigh, into the depth of the lounging chair.

Presently I slept. What was that? A bit of beautiful yellow light floated gracefully above Olga's head. With a fast-beating heart I watched it from my resting place. It grew in size, and increased in height, gradually assuming the form of my darling, a complete counterpart of the one lying before me in the soft blue gown.

The face, the golden braids, the fingers, and the wedding ring were all there, completed by a smile so heavenly that I gazed as one transfixed.

Could this, then, be Olga, and not a stray beam of light which had struggled through the curtains?

"Olga!" I cried, stretching out my arms toward her in an ecstasy of gladness.

"Dear Victor! Have no fear. I will come again." The voice seemed like Olga's and as full of love as ever.

With that the beautiful yellow light began slowly to fade, the form of my beloved melted into a haze which drifted gradually upward and out of sight. Then I awoke.

Weeks passed, during which the fall rains set in, and I was working as hard as ever; not so much in a feverish desire for the gold I was taking out of the ground, but because the work helped me to forget my sorrow. I did not cease to think hourly of Olga, but I wished to put behind me the shock of her sudden leave-taking, and remember the fact that she was still in memory mine, that she was watching over me and would visit me in my dreams.

My all-absorbing love for her I could not—did not wish to put away from me. I had loved her so devotedly that I envied the passing breeze which played among the loose locks of the hair on her forehead. I had envied the dust of the road as it clung to her feet because it could remain so near to her; and I longed to become the atmosphere she breathed, that I might live a part of her very physical being This sort of love never dies, because it is part of one's constitution and sub-consciousness, and cannot be eradicated.

I grew more and more silent. I was physically well and strong, but looked forward from morning until night to going home to my cabin and Olga. Each evening when my lonely supper had been eaten I turned the key of the adjoining cabin door, and carefully locked it behind me. From the outer place I entered the room which was now a sacred spot. A solitary candle gave all the light required. Lifting the section of flooring upon which had been placed two strong hinges, a few turns of the mechanical contrivance brought up from below the narrow bed in which the earthly form of Olga rested, securely covered by clear and heavy glass.

In my low, lounging chair I sat for hours beside her, told her of my love which would remain forever the same; I reminded her of her pledges of constancy, reviving instances of our past lives, even bringing to my mind bright bits of pleasantry which had been habitual to her while here.

At times I placed my cheek upon the icy glass as near hers as possible, whispering words of love—always my great love, which like a deep and flowing well refused to be stopped.

At last one evening I leaned back in my easy chair much wearied, and because of the stillness, soon slept.

Ah! She had come again! In the brightest and purest yellow light she stood there bending toward me with a radiant and happy smile upon her face.

"Victor," she said, softly, "don't worry so much, dear, you will make yourself ill. Believe me you will soon cease to do this for you will know the better way and find real happiness. I know that this trial has been very hard indeed for you to bear, but you must not grieve longer," then I seemed to feel the light pressure of her hand upon my head.

Oh, the joy of it all once more!

"Tell me, Olga, do you still love me as well as before you went away?"

"Victor, dear Victor, believe me, I love you far better than ever before, because I understand. Try to be happy, dear." Then, with a light caress, she vanished.

For a moment I felt dazed. I looked about me. The lighted candle was sputtering itself out in its socket, fitfully darting a thin and feeble flame upward into the darkness. My mouth was parched and dry—I must have water.

Carefully I lowered the blue-robed form to its resting place, adjusting the cover, locked the door behind me, and crept back into my own cabin.

Time passed. With a young lover's regularity at the side of his sweetheart I visited my dear one in the little cabin beside my own. Casting about in my mind how to make the place appropriate for the purpose for which it was now used, and at the same time be somewhat more comfortable, I had covered the walls of Olga's cabin both inside and out with a heavy black paper, well calculated to keep out the wind. Upon the ceiling of the front room hung silvered stars which shone brightly, and with a fitfulness not all unnatural in the flickering candlelight. In one corner of the outer room there still remained the heap of earth and gravel taken from the spot where Olga's body now rested. The rainy season was far advanced and before many days the snow and ice would be here for long and weary months. My mining would then be over until another summer. I had been successful beyond my dreaming and could afford to rest, but I dreaded the tediousness and loneliness of winter.

One evening, while dozing in the depths of the easy chair, I saw a form bending above the sand and gravel in the next room. I fancied I heard a pleased and gentle laugh like Olga's of old, and I asked timidly, "What is it, friend?"

"Here is gold. Will you pan out this sand and gravel? You will be repaid." And again I heard the gentle laugh.

"What," said I in astonishment, "will I there find gold?"

A gesture of assent was given.

"Then this cabin and others must stand upon rich, gold-bearing ground?"

A second gesture of assent.

With that I wakened. I immediately procured a gold pan from my cabin, and used it for a few hours to good advantage.

The ground was truly rich; and Olga's form was lying in a bed literally lined with gold. There was wheat gold as well as dust and small nuggets. In my agony of mind at her sudden death it had never occurred to me while digging that the gravel might contain anything of value; but it was plain to me now. Only for my dream I would surely have shovelled the sand thoughtlessly outside where someone might have made the discovery to my own loss.

Not long afterward a strange incident occurred. It happened in the following way. It was raining and past midnight, being one of the last rainstorms before the regular freeze-up it was proving to us there was no shortage of water in the clouds which seemed wide open, and it was pouring in torrents. For four hours I had been using the pick and shovel in the frozen gravel under the adjoining cabin, and had finally gone to sleep, lulled by the patter of the regularly falling rain upon the roof.

Suddenly I was aroused with a fear of—I knew not what. I instantly sprang from my bed, striking a match, and getting into my clothing as rapidly as possible, I made my way through the storm into the next cabin. It was then but a moment's work to lift Olga's casket to the floor from its icy bed beneath. As I did so a small stream of water burst its way through below the flooring and began pouring over the side of the excavation, at the bottom of which only a moment before had rested Olga's casket.

Like a flash I understood the situation. The small trench around the cabin had filled with water and become obstructed, while the heavy rain had saturated the surface of the ground swelling the little stream beyond the capacity of its bank. I immediately ran out of doors to make a search for the obstruction, which, once removed, allowed the water to pass away as before. A small clump of grass and sticks had found lodgment, having been swept there by the unusual amount of falling rain, and in less time than it takes to write it, the mortal remains of my darling would have been flooded, had it not been for the warning and my prompt response. To clean out the small amount of water which had entered while I hastily worked at the trench was short work and soon completed.

With these and other incidents was my life henceforth made up. For months I spent several hours each day with pick or shovel in my hands. I bought the adjoining cabins with the lots upon which they stood, thereby continuing my work of thoroughly prospecting the ground, even after finishing that upon which Olga's house stood.

Following my practice of working during the midnight hour when most people were asleep, the indistinct noise of my pick in the frozen gravel below the floors aroused no one; though I once overheard two belated pedestrians outside my door wondering from what quarter the noise of the picking and shoveling came. No light was allowed to betray my whereabouts, as a single tallow candle placed low in my prospect hole beneath the floor told no tales; and once hearing the sound of voices in the street my labors instantly ceased.

After a few weeks it was whispered about the camp that strange noises proceeded from the mysterious black cabin at midnight, and later that the same uncanny sounds seemed further away. Only a few persons had ever heard them, and they assured their friends that the vicinity was a good one to keep away from at night time; the latter advice pleasing me quite as well as it did them.

For this reason I was never disturbed; and if more and more left to myself by my neighbors I was not displeased, as it suited my frame of mind best to be alone with my own thoughts—and Olga.

Many months now passed. My life was a very quiet one, the most enjoyable hours to me being the ones spent in dreaming of Olga. Gradually the fact dawned upon me that my life was now a most selfish one. I was feeding upon memories of dear, by-gone days, but allowing the present to slip unimproved away. If I could arouse myself to some good purpose in life, and take a hand at scattering bright bits of happiness to console some lonely hearts who had less of comfort than myself, might it not be better? With the wealth which I had rapidly accumulated in Alaska, I could assist in much good work for the poor and needy if I were so inclined.

Perhaps I would find more happiness and contentment in living henceforth unselfishly, with more thought for others and less for myself.

Many times during the long winter evenings I had felt twinges of conscience concerning my selfish mode of life, well knowing that Olga would enjoy spending our wealth for the good and happiness of others before accepting luxuries for herself. Now I had come to feel in the same way, and no longer craved riches or that which they would bring. My own wants were simple, and would continue to be so. I would make others happier. The helpless, homeless and suffering, I would relieve. My wealth would now permit it.

In this manner, and by my dreaming, my sorrow had been somewhat mitigated, and that grief, so terrible in the beginning, was to some extent assuaged. Not that I loved Olga less, or had forgotten, but all unknowingly I had been striving to be more worthy of her memory.

Daily I meditated in the sweet silence, and hourly received strength and consolation therefrom. Many pledges I made which I would fulfil later on—the future then held no terrors for me—I would work, work and wait. More, I would learn, I would grow, I would climb. I resolved to reach those heights to which many were traveling, and to which Olga had already surely attained. In due time, my Olga, we shall no doubt meet again and live, love and work together as of old, only that our happiness will be farther perfected because we have farther advanced.

* * * * *

It was midnight. I seemed to visit the land of Holy Dreams. In the distance I heard a chorus of voices, exquisitely beautiful and well modulated, coming nearer as I continued to listen. The singers were many, but so perfect was the rhythm and harmony that I dared not breathe for fear of losing some part of the beautiful song. Not only so, but the accompanying orchestra faithfully upheld and completed the symphony which rose and fell with crescendos and diminuendoes more glorious as the chorus pealed louder and nearer. I was listening in sheer delight and with each nerve tingling, when a dear familiar voice began in obligato, so clearly and sweetly that the tears sprang into my eyes—

"Have love; not love alone for one, But man as man thy brother call, And scatter like the circling sun Thy charities on all."



CHAPTER IX

EYLLEN'S WATER WITCH

Two women sat weaving baskets. They were not Aleut Indians, and barely escaped being Russians; but were of mixed blood so common on the Aleutian Islands.

The younger one broke the silence.

"I'm tired of baskets! I want to do something else," she said, with a yawn.

"Run out upon the hills awhile, but first finish the row you are doing, then put all away in a safe place. No Russian leaves her work scattered to get lost or soiled," said the older woman.

"Am I a Russian lady?" queried the girl, apparently about the age of eighteen.

"You may be if your father comes to take you to Russia with him. But by this time he is likely dead;—there is no telling. It is three years since we saw him, and he promised to come again in two." And the woman sighed.

"Oh, he may come at any time, and I am going to the top of the hill to look for him now," said the girl with youth's hopefulness, as she hastened to obey her aunt.

"Don't set your mind on it, for sailor men are very uncertain; only they are pretty sure to roll around the whole world, making excuses that ships take them whether they will or not. A poor excuse for not coming is better than none." Then as the door closed behind the girl she added, "I wish he would send money to buy her clothes; it would be as little as he could do, for she is not my child, but my sister's. I, too, wish he would come, for a cold winter we have had taking much coal and many furs, and my money is nearly gone. To be sure when the steamers come with their hundreds of people bound for the gold fields we shall sell some of our baskets, but it will be weeks before they arrive," and she pulled industriously at the long strands of dried grass she was weaving into her basket.

While her aunt meditated on these and various other matters the girl, Eyllen, glad to get away from the cabin and basket-making, crossed the foot bridge over the small stream which ran behind the house and began to ascend the high bluff which she claimed as her watch tower. If she could only discern her father's ship in the distance, how surprised her aunt would be!

On the islands the winter was over. The month of May had come with its many attendant delights. Snow had gone from the ground in the little settlements and lay only upon the high hills and great mountain tops surrounding. Down gulches and canyons flowed swift, icy streams of what had until lately been great snow masses, but which on melting had left bare the sides of the tundra-covered hills where the brightest of wild flowers were beginning to spring into beauty.

The girl was not blind to their loveliness. Upon leaving the cabin she had determined to bring back all she could carry of the blossoms, but not until she had well scanned the horizon for ships. Her father might even now be approaching the islands, and perhaps he could see her through his glass. With this thought in mind she pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and waved it enthusiastically, although as yet no ship had she seen. Seeing some little children far below in the village playing near the priest's school she laughed aloud.



"They will surely say I am bewitched if they see me, and what a joke that would be! I am certain to be badly quizzed by the youngsters when I get home, for there is no such luck as to escape their sharp eyes while standing upon this hill-top. It will be a wonder if some of them do not follow me. If they do, they will not find me," and she laughed again as she hastened on over the brow of the bluff.

Eyllen was lithe of limb and supple. To mountain climbing she had been accustomed since a baby, and was well and hardy. She now stood for a moment to take a fresh survey of the bay. A slight breeze was blowing, and had tinted her smooth round cheeks with crimson. Her eyes sparkled, and her whole face betokened earnest and animated thought. Down her back hung two thick braids of dark hair, but the ends had become free, and, left unconfined, floated picturesquely about her shoulders.

An Aleut Indian she surely was not. She had not their short, dumpy stature, but was slender and graceful, and would not have seemed out of place in civilization.

Having satisfied herself that no vessel could put into the harbor for some hours, if at all that day, she strolled farther on. Down one hill and up another, picking a flower here and one there, humming as she went some old Russian song, her time passed in evident enjoyment though with more or less abstraction.

"I will visit that spot again, and find out what there is so strange and uncanny about it," she murmured. "I am not afraid, for nothing can harm me. It is said that a woman has much curiosity, and I am a woman, so that will allow me to inquire into the mystery, for mystery it surely is. Why should I be so strangely affected when visiting that spot? Why these sudden head pains, and dizziness as though I were about to fall to the ground? Can it be that some witch or evil spirit dwells there and is displeased with my coming? Does it belong to them any more than to me? Have I not the right to come and sit beside the little stream as often as I choose? I will inquire into the matter this very day, and solve the puzzle, for I will never rest until I do."

So saying, she hurried her steps and was finally standing at the head of a small stream, where, from between rocks, the water came bubbling to the surface and trickled away to lower ground. She was thirsty from her long walk and climbing in the sunshine, and stooped to fill a drinking cup she had brought with her for the purpose.

Suddenly she was seized with dizziness, then an electric thrill or trembling passed through her whole body, and a wave of faintness swept over her. She felt ill.

Her face grew very pale.

Was it the work of one of the witches she had heard so many times about?

At that she ran away a little distance and sat down upon a grassy knoll. She had not yet quenched her thirst, and longed for the water. There was no other spring near at hand, and she was determined to have a cupful from that one. The witch, she thought, (if a witch's work it was) had not done worse with her than cause the sudden illness and disagreeable sensations, and she would repeat her visit to the spring and secure a cupful of the water; which, though possibly bewitched, still looked as pure and sparkling as that of her own bright mountain stream near home.

When she had fully recovered, she again advanced toward the spring. Not until she stood above its waters and peered into their shallow depths did the old and oddly unpleasant experience repeat itself. Exactly as before it happened now; but the girl, always a determined and resolute creature, secured the water as she had intended, and retreated to her hillock where she again seated herself before tasting the liquid.

A second time the trembling left her, not so quickly as before, perhaps, yet still in a very few moments she was again herself.

Gingerly she sipped the water. It tasted clean, sweet, and deliciously cool. Again she cautiously sipped. Still no evil effects from the draught. Thus encouraged, she drained the cup, laughing aloud as she did so.

"Ha, ha! old water witch of the mountains! I am neither afraid of you nor your twin brother, the wind wizard. I am light, love and happiness, and you cannot harm me."

Saying this she began braiding her long hair with which the breezes had played so mischievously during her rambles, and growing more serious she reflected on the phenomenon.

"It is in the rocks or ground underneath the spring, and not in the water. Surely I have proved that. Before today have I visited this place, and it is always the same. I will tell no one, else the priest may say I am bewitched, and make me do severe penance. Only once more will I approach the spring today and then I must surely go home or I will lose my supper."

She was the lodestone, being irresistably drawn to the magnet, which was apparently the rocks at the fountain.

As before she approached, but with less trepidation. She began to lose all fear. Some inner monitor urged fearlessness, and she felt full of courage.

As she stooped low above the spring, surrounded on all sides as it was by ledges of rocks and boulders, she determined to hold herself, notwithstanding the decidedly disagreeable sensations it gave her, firmly in position long enough to get a view of the bottom of the spring. It was not a deep pool, forming a mirror for all above it, but rather a bed of loose rocks, evidently from crumbled ledges. These latter, crossed the place from east to west, but to the careless glance of Eyllen, seemed simply a confused jumble of rocks and nothing more.

Several of these pieces were light and clear. They looked attractive in contrast to darker ones, and being washed clean by the water, and made brighter by the sunshine, tempted the young girl to reach for them, which she did.

"See! What was that?"

The rock was filled with shining yellow specks which shone dazzlingly in the sunbeams.

The girl gazed in astonishment upon them.

"Holy Mother Mary!" she ejaculated. "How beautiful! I believe its gold!"

With that she made a dash for other bits of the same rock, and though her head ached fearfully, and it seemed to her that she stood upon an electric battery, which was anything but pleasant, she secured as much as she could carry, and fled as before from the spot.



Upon examination it proved to be the same as the first piece discovered.

Crossing herself devoutly she murmured a prayer. That over she kissed the fragments of quartz in her hand, talking lovingly to them in the meantime.

"Why did you hide away from me so long? Why cause me to think of witches, but force me to come to you once and again, and giving me the illness? That's a funny way, you little rascals! And I will now repay you by hiding you yet longer from sight of any who might come here. I will cover you carefully until I come again, or until my father comes from across the ocean. Then I will give you to him, and he shall find the rest of your brothers and sisters." She pulled energetically at the moss and grass at her side in order to make a hiding spot for her newly discovered friends, as she chose to consider them.

Before putting the last piece beside the others she again kissed it tenderly, patted it, and giving a little gurgling laugh, said:

"You pretty darlings! Sleep quietly until I come again, and let nobody find you. See? I will tuck you up, head and heels, with this cover," and she replaced the mosses and grass she had just pulled.

"By and by you can make me very happy if you will, when I can be a rich lady. I have heard old miners talk lovingly of you many times, but they shall not find you. You are mine! Remember, you are mine!"

With that she gave a last look at the spot where her secret was hidden, and bounded away down the hillside.

Presently in the valley below she struck an old trail,—one made long ago by the cattle belonging to the settlement, and the occasional tread, perhaps, of a few reindeer and goats owned by the mission priest.

Hurrying along toward home she had almost forgotten the flowers she had intended to gather but now had little time to leave the trail and pluck them. For the sake of appearance, however, she pulled those happening to grow alongside her path, not wishing to reach home empty handed.

As it was, her aunt's sharp eyes took notice.

"To be gone so long upon the hills, and yet bring so few blossoms? You must be slow in bending your back or heedless of the beauty around you. Where are the buttercups and beautiful blue iris from the field below the hill? Was the upper bridge gone that you could not cross the stream at that place either going or coming?" asked the woman, a little sarcastically.

"No, no, Aunt, but it is early for iris, and the buttercups are not half so lovely as these bluets and violets. See the darling little blue eyes peeping at us! Tomorrow I will look for the iris. But let me eat my supper now, for I am very hungry," laughed Eyllen, after she had placed her spring beauties in water.

"When we played by the schoolyard," remarked her youngster cousin dryly, from between huge mouthfuls of fish and potato, "she was standing on the high hilltop and looking out to sea. I am certain I saw her wave something to the sailors, only there were no sailors there," and the urchin glanced roguishly across the table at Eyllen.

"Ha, you rogue! It was likely the corner of my apron you saw, if indeed your sight was clear enough to see me at all so far away. I wonder Father Peter allows you to let go your fancy in such manner."

"Father Peter wishes us to learn by seeing, he tells us. Besides I wondered how you thought to pluck flowers on that barren hilltop where the snow is hardly yet melted. Warm and sunny hillsides are the spots where spring flowers grow."

"There, there," said the boy's mother, "you talk far too much. Eat your supper and let your elders alone."

The boy shrugged his shoulders and gulped down his tea, having finished his tea before the others owing to his haste in beginning.

The older woman then gravely inquired if any ships had that day been seen.

None could be reported; and the youngster was soon in a state of great sleepiness in bed, while the two women washed the supper dishes and made the small cabin once more tidy.

That night Eyllen slept little. On her cot in the corner she pondered long and earnestly. Just what was the nature of the strange phenomenon with which she was so lately identified she had no idea. She only knew that the mystical rocks lying embedded in that spring were full of life which thrilled her tremendously as she made a near approach to them. As a magnet they had attracted her until finally she perceived what to her constituted discovery.



How very strange it was! Could it be possible that here were ledges containing much gold which no one had ever discovered, and which might all be her own if she could succeed in keeping her secret until her father should arrive? Of his coming she had not the least doubt, as had her aunt; she felt positive if he were dead she would in some way know it. It was springtime and the season for vessels to put into the harbor for coal and fresh water on their way to the Arctic Ocean; and they would bring him sometime she felt confident. Then he would be delighted to hear of his daughter's discovery, and together they would grow to be very rich indeed.

Eyllen was a sensible girl and a good reasoner, but her knowledge of minerals was exceedingly limited. Each piece of white rock was, to her, quartz; and the place where gold was found in any form was a mine, or would be one later when developed. She really wished to find out if there was more of the same gold-bearing ore at the spring, for unless there were large masses of it she knew her discovery was worthless.

Then she thought of her often recurring and unpleasant sensations at the spring, and it occurred to her that here was a way by which to gain further knowledge. If she could bear the headaches and dizziness might she not, by this means, trace the hidden ledges? It seemed reasonable even to her inexperienced mind. But she would need to use considerable caution. None must see the gold-bearing rock which was already so fascinating to her. In some manner, she reasoned, she must find a way of gaining information about minerals other than by asking questions. Curiosity upon the subject would quickly give her friends the cue to her new interest. She decided to visit the library of Father Peter in his absence, and from his housekeeper borrow some book giving such information. By talking to the good woman about her home work and children she could manage to distract her attention so she would not notice which book it was she was taking.

In this way Eyllen planned for hours before sleeping. When she finally slept it was to dream of a beautiful water witch who lived in the bottom of the mountain spring between the rocks, but when, on insisting upon a nearer view she found it to be only herself with her dark hair floating around her, she laughed aloud, and so awakened. This decided her, however, upon one thing.

She would search for a tiny fragment of the beautiful rock containing as much of the precious mineral as possible, and wear it suspended about her neck underneath her dress; as this, according to tradition, would surely preserve the wearer from witchcraft. Not that she believed herself possessed of any spirit other than her own; but the strangeness of the sudden indisposition attacking her at the spring, added to her dream, caused her to greatly wonder.

A week passed. Eyllen developed a most remarkable passion for wild flowers, along with a sudden and vigorous distaste for basket-making. She declared the latter occupation gave her headache and loss of appetite, and only the fresh mountain air made her feel like herself again. In her aunt's cabin the window ledges were filled with blossoms, and an overflow of the same was furnished the priest's housekeeper.

Then, too, a daily watch was kept for ships from the westward by the girl whose strong limbs served her well in mountain climbing. As the sun grew warmer and clearer above the islands, she could see old "Round Top" begin to breathe. At times this mountain's snowy head became quite hidden in the obscurity of misty vapor or smoke clouds, while the double peak of Isanotski, rising as grandly as ever to its height above the others, seemed, by its longer-retained snow cap, to assure the world of its superiority.

Frequently, but cautiously, she rambled among the hills. Patiently she investigated the rocks upon the hillside, quickly learning where she might venture to be free from the sudden indisposition, and where it was sure to attack her; for there appeared no cessation of the phenomenon. With the hammer which she secretly fetched from home she hacked the out-cropping lode in different directions. Everywhere in the white rocks there were the golden specks scintillating in the sunshine. It was a bona fide gold-bearing ledge. From the borrowed book she gained much knowledge that was helpful, but with this more and more she felt her powerlessness to proceed or to turn her newly found interest to good account.

More than ever she longed to see her father. Between her walks to the spring on the hillside she climbed the bluff and continued to look for ships from the westward. To be sure other vessels were beginning to arrive, and to welcome them the whole settlement habitually turned out upon the wharf. There were empty water tanks re-filled, repairs made, and larders replenished, while ship's officers drank, smoked, and told sea yarns in the saloons along the water front.

Thus passed weeks of waiting to Eyllen and her aunt. It seemed that the monotony would never end; but it did end suddenly at last.

One day as the two women sat busily at work upon their baskets the youngster of the family rushed in quite breathless.

"A ship's in sight which flies the Russian flag! She's nearing the harbor now! Some men with glasses on the bluff have sighted her, and signalled to those below! She may be coming from Vladivostock and bring news of my uncle!" and the lad dashed out of the cabin and down again upon the wharf.

"Or, better yet, the ship may bring him!" suggested Eyllen, in a flutter, hastily rising and putting away her work. "I must see if my father has really come."

"I trust it is so; then will my prayers not be in vain. If he brings money again will they be answered," said the girl's relative.

"If he brings no gold his daughter will be glad to see him," said Eyllen in a slightly offended tone.

"I meant no harm, Eyllen. You surely understand me. Has not your father been always welcome here?"

"Yes, yes, Aunt," and tears forced their way out of her eyes, as the girl threw her shawl about her. "But come, we will soon find out about this vessel, and who is on board."

The ship was now moving into the placid bay and toward the shore. From a flag staff the Russian emblem already fluttered a welcome to the visiting craft. To be sure, the shore flag was accompanied by one made up of stars and stripes, and this last floated proudly at top of the mast above the other, but the two flags seemed not to be on unfriendly terms.

At last the vessel swung alongside the dock. Eagerly did Eyllen and her aunt, standing among the group of natives, scan the faces of those on the vessel. None were familiar, and they were about to turn disappointed away when they heard a shout.

Some one on deck motioned to the two women to come to the ship's side, and they hurriedly obeyed, scarcely knowing what they did.

"Were you looking for someone?" kindly inquired an officer in Russian.

"My father," replied the girl, disappointedly. "But he cannot be on board your ship or he would have been out to greet us."

"Your father's name?" asked the officer.

"Fedor Michaelovitz," responded Eyllen.

"He is on board, but he is ill. We will fetch him ashore presently," but even as he spoke two men passed through the door to the gangplank. They carried a litter between them upon which lay stretched a man.

Eyllen rushed toward the litter. It was really her father, but so changed that she would not have recognized him.

According to the physician's orders Fedor Michaelovitz was placed in the small hospital established upon the islands for sailors, and there he was well tended. In a few days he was far enough recovered to relate to his daughter his story.

After leaving her three years before and meeting many vicissitudes and disappointments, he had at last gained a fairly good position, when smallpox overtook him, and during a long illness he had lost it. Recovering and working his way up again elsewhere, he had lived frugally in order to save a competence upon which to live with his daughter in their own country to which he wished to take her.

When his wishes seemed about to be realized the bank in which his money had been placed, failed, and he lost all his hard earned savings. Weakened by discouragement he again fell ill, and then he decided to sail for the Aleutians and see his daughter at all hazards. Penniless, ill, and discouraged, he was a man who, in middle life, had still nothing to show for years of work and hardships.

One redeeming feature of all this dark outlook, there was with him a friend who was apparently moved by the misfortunes of Michaelovitz, and that was a young Russian sailor with whom he had become acquainted some years before, and who followed him wherever he went, even at the risk of causing a corresponding failure in his own affairs by so doing.

The young man's name was Shismakoff, and he had proven himself not only kindly and generous, but self-sacrificing and noble. Along with these good and somewhat unusual qualities, he possessed more than average good looks and abundant patience. He it was who now in the hospital faithfully attended Michaelovitz, as was his habit.

This young man had been told but little of the family history of his friend, only knowing that his wife was dead and that a daughter lived upon the Aleutians with her aunt.

This much he knew upon landing. At sight of Eyllen's bright eyes and rosy cheeks the young man's heart fluttered. She was good to look upon. Without commenting upon it even to himself he immediately proceeded to take, as compensation for attentions to her sick father, such keen enjoyment in her presence as only those long isolated can know in the society of ladies. Not that he forgot his manliness. For that the young man was too sensible; but he simply drank in every word uttered by the young girl, as a thirsty traveler would drink fresh water in a parched and burning desert.

The girl, herself, was unconstrained. Probably in this lay her greatest attraction. She had other hopes and interests, and they were centered in her father's recovery, and in her rocks a few miles away on the hillside.

Eyllen did not immediately relate her adventures to her father. He must recover his health before she disclosed her secret. To this end she now bent all her energies. A basket was traded to a neighbor for fowls in order that he might have nourishing broths, and her fishing tackle was brought into play to furnish the freshest of fish from the bay.

With attendants like Eyllen and Shismakoff, who could long remain upon a sick bed? Especially on these beautiful green islands in spring-time? Greatest of all grasses were those growing before the doors, and brightest of all blossoms were those plucked by the hands of Eyllen. Sweet was the fragrance of iris and violets, and lupins grew straight stalked and fearless. Lilies, too, appeared later, and all crowded the windows of the invalid whose heart was gladdened, softened, and refreshed by their sweet and silent influence.

At her basket work Eyllen sat daily for hours with her father, until he was strong enough to walk to her relative's cabin. Of course it was only to be expected that Shismakoff would accompany them. Upon one side of the convalescent he furnished support, while Eyllen assisted on the other.

The girl's aunt had prepared a dinner especially for the visitors, at which the incorrigible youngster had been instructed to appear only when his elders had finished. It was Saturday, and the priest's school was not in session that day. Freedom from this restraint had had its effect upon the urchin, and his mother found it in her heart to frequently wish that it had been a school day instead. With care she instructed him in what manner to behave himself, and what things he must under no consideration do, one of which was not to talk too much.

"In that case, mother, what I do say must count," said the boy, not dull as to wit.

"Count fifty before you speak at all. Then you must consider what you say, and you will not be foolish. I daresay you will still show yourself feather-headed enough," and his mother sighed, apparently striving to be resigned to the suspense of her position.

The visitors were telling of their recent voyage to the islands. The youngster could keep quiet no longer.

"Eyllen has been long expecting you, Mr. Shismakoff. She often went to the hilltop to wave to you, and I suppose she also called you. Did you hear her across the water, and come in answer?"

The young man smiled.

"Be silent! you naughty boy!" commanded his mother, with as much force as she could master.

Eyllen's color grew like the wild roses in the window.

"Did you hear her calling?" persisted the mischief loving youngster.

"I do not think so. I take it the saints directed me here, for none but they could bring me this present happiness," said the visitor, gallantly inclining his head to the one with the roses in her cheeks.

At this point Eyllen's father began to speak of other things, and the irrepressible youngster subsided; while Eyllen and her aunt looked modestly down upon the plates before them.

Two weeks passed. The ship which brought the sick man and his friend had departed, leaving them behind. None were sad at its going. Eyllen's father was rapidly improving, and gradually grew to feel that life was, after all, worth having. To the younger man, each hour in the presence of Eyllen seemed brighter even than the one before it, and a longing for many of the same in the future took possession of him. There was no real enjoyment out of her sight. His former existence looked to him a blank. He could not go back to it. He could not leave this green island, the clear mountain air made salt by great encircling waters and scented by spring blossoms. There were no fish like those in these waters, and no winds so free as the ones playing over the crests of Progromni and Shishaldin. Finally, nowhere in the whole world was an equal to Eyllen among women.

This last consideration settled everything. He was determined to win her in marriage if possible, but her father no longer needed attention, and he bethought himself to set to work at something by which to earn money. More fishermen were in demand at this time in the settlement to supply the constantly arriving ships with fresh fish, and he devoted himself temporarily to this labor.

In her turn Eyllen was interested in Shismakoff, but she longed to disclose her secret to her father, who, she felt confident, could not refrain from sharing it with his friend. To this she could not yet consent. She had suddenly grown wise with a wisdom not before exhibited. If the young man loved her as she felt that he did, might not the knowledge of her secret urge him to increase his attention? In all probability it would, and she heartily repudiated this idea.

Of all things in the world, to be loved for her gold-bearing ledges would be the worst of misfortunes, she reflected, and this feeling, growing upon her, prevented her day after day from confiding in her father. When he had recovered his strength sufficiently to walk among the hills (she told herself) then she would inform him of her good fortune; and even then he must be pledged to keep his own counsel.

At last the time came; the girl invited her father to walk with her upon the hills to gather wild flowers.

"We will go first into the valley by way of the trail, Father, and then come home another way. There are many beautiful blossoms and mosses, and we will take our tin cup and lunch along with us," said Eyllen brightly as she made ready for the tramp.

"Anywhere you say, Eyllen, only let it not be too far for my feet to travel," replied the man indulgently, as he watched her, well pleased with the grace of her movements.

"When we are tired we will sit and rest in the sunshine. See! Here is buttermilk the priest's housekeeper has sent you. I will carry a bottleful to refresh you when thirsty."

They then trudged off among the hills. A few short walks Michaelovitz had already taken with his friend and good supporter at his arm, but who was today away in his boat on the water, and he now leaned upon the stock he carried in his right hand.

For a time Eyllen walked by her father's side, carrying her basket of luncheon, but as the trail narrowed she led the way, restraining her haste as best she could (for she was impatient to be at her ledges) lest she should tire her father before their walk was ended.

Several times they halted to rest. As yet her father saw no reason for hurrying. To loiter, to rest upon the hillside and chat in the sunshine was what he liked; and here was his daughter fleet-footed and strong, almost hurriedly leading him far into the valley between the hills as though bent on some mission.

Where could she be going?

"Are you sure you know where you go, daughter? And that you will not get us lost in the mountains? I have never before been so far from the settlement in this direction, and we cannot hear the church bell ring, eh, Eyllen?"

"No, Father, we care nothing for hearing the church bells now," laughed the girl, "and as for losing ourselves, it is impossible, as I have many times rambled over and through these hills. I know each rock as large as my head, and I will show you some presently much larger and more beautiful, as you are sure to agree with me."

"Rocks are not beautiful, child. I thought it was blossoms you wanted to show me."

"So it is, but on our return. We have reached the place I wanted to show you, Father. Sit upon this mound while I fetch a cup of water from the spring," and the girl ran a few steps farther.

Returning with the water she said briskly, "now we will eat our lunch while we rest and talk, for I have a little story to tell you in the meantime," and the hands at the basket trembled a trifle.

A cloth was spread upon the ground, and the basket's contents turned out upon it. There was the bottle of buttermilk which Eyllen declared she would not carry home again, as it might be changed into butter by that time, and she urged her father to drink it and eat heartily.

"But the story, Eyllen, the story! What is it you will tell me? I doubt not 'tis some island-lover business, or a new gown you will politely ask for when your father's appetite is quieted, as is the way of many keen women, eh, little girl?" said Michaelovitz giving his daughter's pink right ear a gentle tweak.

"There is neither new gown nor lover in it, and you will never guess, so I am going directly to tell you," smiled Eyllen. "Do you see this piece of pretty rock, Father?"

"There you go again with calling rocks pretty. But stay! What is this, child? Where did you get it? Is there more? Do you know what it is that sparkles?" questioned the man rapidly, bending forward toward his daughter.

"Yes, Father, it is gold, and there is much more of it where that comes from. I have found the ledges."

"You, child? You? How did it happen? Tell me."

Then the girl proceeded to relate her experience with which we are already familiar; how she first came to drink at the spring, and her peculiar sensations which were at first affrighting; how she persisted in returning to the place until by accident she discovered the quartz pieces in the water; her foolish fears of a water witch, including her dream, and her decision to wear as a talisman a bit of the gold besprinkled rock; of her hesitating in telling her father her secret for fear he would divulge it to his companion, young Shismakoff, at the same time entreating her listener to keep sacred her confidence for fear that others would molest the treasure-laden ledges; and lastly, inquiring if he would, as her partner, accept one half of the property as a present.

"May the blessed saints preserve us! my child, what is this you are saying? Where are the ledges? Where are they?" and the man sprang to his feet in excited interest. At that, the buttermilk flask rolled away down the hillside where it landed against the stones below, breaking into hundreds of flying fragments. The lunch basket, too, toppled over, with the contents, luckily being only sandwiches of bread and butter; and Eyllen, as excited now as her father, ran lightly down the path to the spring from which she had filled her drinking cup a few minutes earlier.

"Here are the ledges, Father, here they are! Come and see for yourself!" pointing to the rocks she had already so thoroughly investigated.

The man quickly followed. He was weak and weary no longer. His walking stick lay neglected on the ground beside the luncheon, and he had forgotten that weariness or hunger were possible. Eagerly he examined the formation, the quartz, the wall rocks and surroundings, ejaculating and questioning Eyllen in the meantime.

She replied that she was positive no one knew of her interest in the hillside, as she had carefully kept concealed her destination when walking so frequently here. All prospecting had been done by herself, and now she would gladly share the work, worry, and profits with him, she laughingly avowed.

Only one condition would she rigidly impose, and that was that Shismakoff should be kept in ignorance of their good fortune as long as was possible.

At this her father arose from his stooping position among the rocks and looked keenly at Eyllen.

"You mistake if you think that Shismakoff is unable to keep a secret," said he earnestly. Then seeing Eyllen's blushing and downcast countenance, the facts began to take shape in his brain.

"Oh, ho! I see it! Is that your meaning? My wit is not the keenest, else I would sooner have caught it. Well, well, child, perhaps you are right, although I shall sorely want his counsel and advice in this matter. I promise to withhold the knowledge of these ledges from him until I have your permission to tell it; so rest easy, and fret not. He is a good fellow, and I fancy will presently remove the necessity for further secrecy by making known his intentions to your father. With your acceptance of his hand there need be only confidence between us."

As he finished speaking, a wave of sentiment passed over him, and his eyes filled with tears. Approaching his daughter, he took her hand in his own, drew her closer to him and kissed her. "You are a good child, Eyllen, and very like your mother. It is a pity she cannot be with us! You are worthy of a good husband, and he will be one. You will have great happiness."

Resuming his examination of the rocks he dropped his seriousness and remarked in a lighter tone: "That he is a poor man is not important now that you will have riches yourself. Should both possess wealth it would be too much of good luck, and one fortune is quite sufficient."

Eyllen was now herself once more. Tilting her head backwards she measured the sun with her eyes.

"It is time we returned now, Father," she said, "for we will have flowers to gather by handfuls. There is no such thing for us as reaching home empty handed. It would never do. You see I have been much at this work, and know how to manage."

"Right you are, child, we will do so."

"Here is your walking stick, Father," holding it out to him.

"Bah! I do not need it! I am now strong."

"But, Father, please use the stick, because you must not be grown strong too rapidly. It may cause comment, and you must not excite suspicion of our good fortune, and why we came here today. Leave the stick where you will tomorrow, but take it with you today," she urged laughingly, and with eyes twinkling.

"To be sure,—to be sure. I forgot. I will not expose your secret, child; have no fear."

With that they turned their faces toward home. Flowers nodded gaily on all sides, and soon replaced the luncheon in their basket.

Mosses, green and velvety, sank beneath the pressure of each foot-fall, and a brood of eaglets tested their pinions near the crag above the trail.

Right glad was Fedor Michaelovitz before reaching home that he had listened to Eyllen and carried his walking stick. Without its support he would have found much more tedious the long walk from the mountains.

A hot supper, a pipe full of tobacco and a restful evening, however, restored him, especially as Shismakoff made his appearance all spick and span after his day's work on the water. The recital of his adventures with a school of whale in mid-ocean, and the capture of one of them, occupied a good share of the evening. Eyllen's father asked many questions relative to the subject. To these were supplemented the queries of the youngster, whose large dark eyes fairly stood out upon his cheeks with wonder at the tale. To say that the boy's admiration for Shismakoff was thereafter greatly augmented would be speaking much too mildly. From that day, the young man was looked upon by him as a hero who needed only a following of soldiers to make him a real general.

In this way the evening passed with slight reference to the tramp of Eyllen and her father in the mountains, much to the girl's satisfaction.

Her mind was now relieved. Work upon her baskets was again taken up, and perseveringly done. Michaelovitz, with walking stick in hand, tramped among the hills alone often, considering it the affair of no one that a pick and shovel did honest duty in his hands during the day, and lay secreted beneath the rocks near the little spring when he returned to his cabin at night-fall. If his capacious coat pockets contained bread slices in the morning, it was empty by evening, and his hands full of blossoms then quickly pacified the children he met in the village.

At times Eyllen accompanied her father. Then, at his direction, by the use of her mysterious instinct for minerals, she could trace still further the treasure-filled ledges from the spring or ore shute where her initial discovery had been made. By this means, several hundred feet of gold-bearing ledges were located and staked by the girl and her father, whose active labor in the open air, along with a brightened future and more encouraging life prospects, soon caused the man to grow strong and well again. Shismakoff and Eyllen became more fond of each other day by day, until at last it was beyond his patience to endure uncertainty longer, and he told her of his great love, begging for a response in the form of a promise of marriage. To this the girl replied as he desired, taking no note of his reference to a lack of exchequer, and that he must go away from the islands in order to make money more rapidly.

A few days afterwards, Michaelovitz invited the young man to join himself and daughter in a ramble to the hills. Eyllen thought it was no harm to give the whales and fishes one day more of freedom, she said, and his boat needed caulking. She insisted that the boat must be made entirely seaworthy, now that it must carry her future husband; and she could not endure the thought of his life being in danger.

Upon reaching the vicinity of the spring in the ledges, Michaelovitz proposed that they rest for a little and listen to a story which Eyllen had to relate to them, but (with a woman's usual perverseness) when they were comfortably seated upon the grass she refused to begin it. Would she finish if her father began it? they asked.

No, she would not even promise to finish. If her father wished the story to be told, then he must tell it, she declared between laughing and blushing.

The old man needed no urging. He proceeded to relate the story of the discovery of her gold ledges. Of her patiently locating the ledges in the face of the fact that her strange electric instinct for minerals gave her real suffering; and of her taking him into her secret; not omitting to tell of the water witch, the talisman, and the dream, as well as her wish that Shismakoff be kept in ignorance to the last moment. It was now that Michaelovitz forced his daughter to regret that she had not herself told the tale.

He did not spare her blushes. On the contrary he bore down upon the finale of the narrative with all the vigor of a surgeon performing a serious duty, adding that she had had her wishes in the matter gratified, and she ought to be satisfied that their listener was a genuine lover, and not one seeking a wife for her possessions.

At this juncture Eyllen's poor cheeks could blush no longer. Her eyes were wet, but her lips were smiling; and Michaelovitz betook himself to the path which led to the spring, thus giving the lovers an opportunity to be alone.

Shismakoff was the first to speak.

"So this is the little one who wears the talisman," he laughed. "But it has no power to protect you from witchcraft, as I can honestly testify. See! Here in me is the proof of my story. Have you not bewitched me?" his strong arms moving tenderly around the girl's little jacket, while he covered her lips with kisses.

"Give the talisman to me, darling, that I may wear it until your love shall be as strong for me as is my own for Eyllen!"

Then the girl, thinking him in earnest, handed it to her lover who hung it about his neck beneath his waistcoat next to his heart. So the lovers had forgotten the ledges and the man among them, and thought only of their love and each other; the rocks, gold-laden though they were, as well as everything else, being then of secondary importance.

THE END