the most taciturn of mortals. But something behind the locked windows of
his soul recognized a congenial spirit in the open windows of Nick
Hilliard's, and the two had made friends years ago. The morning's call was
a renewal of old acquaintance; and the sea-green light under the
Grapevine was as clear as on another May day, when Nick was six years
younger. The alligators were larger; but the white-faced owls were
unchanged--unless perhaps a little wiser, a little more instructed in the
oldest secrets of an old, secretive world.

"See the way that white-veiled witch stares at me with her golden eyes?"
said Nick. "Wish I could flatter myself she remembers me."

"Of course she remembers," said her master, "She's the same one told your
fortune when you were here before."

"I asked her if I was going to amount to anything in the world, and she
nodded her head three times. I felt like sending her a present when Gaylor
made me foreman, and again when I got my ranch. She ought to have had a
diamond crown when the gusher came. But, like an ungrateful beast, I
forgot all about her."

"She knows her business," said the Grapevine man. "Three nods mean three
big strokes of luck."

"Good king!" exclaimed Nick. "I hope that doesn't mean I'm not going to
have any more than three?"

"Anything you want in particular?"

"Well, yes, there _is_ something I'm sort of set on."