So unreal had she looked that his heart pounded with relief when she
spoke.

"There's a hot-box," he answered, in the tones of one repeating a lesson
learned. His eyes devoured her face hungrily.

"Oh!" said the girl, softly. "Then--then you aren't a robber, are you?"
Wade merely shook his head. "I heard noises, and then--when I opened the
door--and saw you standing there--." The first alarm was yielding to
curiosity. She glanced at the scarred and stained hand which grasped the
brass railing, and from there to the pleasant, eager, sunburnt face
under the upturned brim of the battered sombrero. "No, I see you're not
that," she went on reflectively. "Are you a miner?"

"No, only a prospector. We're camped up there." He tilted his head
toward the slope without moving his gaze.

"Oh," said the girl. Perhaps she found that steady, unwinking regard of
his disconcerting, for she turned her head away slightly so that her
eyes were hidden from him. But the soft profile of the young face stood
clear against the darkening sky, and Wade gazed enravished.

"You are looking for gold?" she asked.

"Yes."

"And--have you found it?"

"No."