Sanchia, her cool poise regained, made no step toward him but contented herself by a slow comprehensive and sympathetic smile. Howard came quickly to Helen, stooped to her and whispered: 'I can't do a thing with him. But come outside with me a second; I think I know what to do.'
She flung down the heavy gun and went with him. Ten paces from the cabin they stopped together.
'Did you glimpse the specimens before I ran out to the spring with them?' he asked sharply. She shook her head, her eyes round.
'Do you have any idea,' he hurried on, 'just where your father has been prospecting lately?'
'Yes, I went with him for a walk two or three times during the last week. He----'
But he interrupted.
'Has he shown any interest in a flat-topped hill about three miles back? Where there is a lot of red dirt? They call it Red Dirt Hill.'
'Yes!' Her tone quickened. 'That is why----'
They had no time for complete sentences.
'I saw the red dirt on his pick first; then on the rock. That is why I washed it off, hoping that she had not seen. It's more than a fair gamble, Helen, that your father's claim is on Red Hill.'
Her hand was on his arm now; she did not know, but through all other considerations to him this fact thrilled pleasurably. He put his own hand over hers.
'If Sanchia saw, too?'
'I don't think that she did. Nor am I half sure that it would mean anything to her. I know every foot of these hills; she doesn't. We'll go in now and see what we can do. If your father does give it away--well, then we'll play our hunch and try to beat her to it.'
But though they had been out so brief a time, already Sanchia met them at the door. Her eyes were on fire; her slight body seemed to dilate with a joy swelling in her heart; she looked the embodiment of all that was triumphant. Behind her, rubbing his two hands together, and looking like a wilful and victorious child, was Longstreet. Sanchia ran by them. In her hands, tight-clutched, was the finest specimen.
'You haven't told her, papa! Oh, you haven't told her!'
'And what if I have?' he snapped. 'Am I not a man grown that I am not to----'
Again no time for more than a broken sentence.
'Will you tell us?' demanded Howard.
'In due time,' came the cool rejoinder. 'When I am ready. I should have told you to-night, had you trusted to me. Now I shall not tell you a word about it until to-morrow.'