Bennington fairly gasped with astonishment.  “Don’t you ever take any water?” he asked.

They turned slowly.  Old Mizzou looked him in the eye with glimmering reproach.

“Not, if th’ whisky’s good, sonny,” said he impressively.

“Wall,” commented Lawton, after a pause, “that is a good drink.  Reckon I must be goin’.”

“Stay t’ grub!” urged Old Mizzou heartily.

“Folks waitin’.  Remember!”

They looked at Bennington and chuckled a little, to that young man’s discomfort.

“Lawton’s a damn fine fella’,” said Old Mizzou with emphasis.  Bennington thought, with a shudder, of the loose-skinned, turkey-red neck, and was silent.

After supper Bennington and Old Mizzou played cribbage by the light of a kerosene lamp.

“While I was hunting claims this afternoon,” said the Easterner suddenly, “I ran across a mighty pretty girl.”

“Yas?” observed Old Mizzou with indifference.  “What fer a gal was it?”

“She didn’t look as if she belonged around here.  She was a slender girl, very pretty, with a pink dress on.”

“Ain’t no female strangers yar-abouts.  Blue eyes?”

“Yes.”

“An’ ha’r that sometimes looks black an’ sometimes yaller-brown?”

“Yes, that’s the one all right.  Who is she?”

“Oh, that!” said Old Mizzou with slight interest, “that’s Bill Lawton’s girl.  Live’s down th’ gulch.  He’s th’ fella’ that was yar afore grub,” he explained.

For a full minute Bennington stared at the cards in his hand.  The patriarch became impatient.

“Yore play, sonny,” he suggested.

“I don’t believe you know the one I mean,” returned Bennington slowly.  “She’s a girl with a little mouth and a nose that is tipped up just a trifle——­”

“Snub!” interrupted Old Mizzou, with some impatience.  “Yas, I knows.  Same critter.  Only one like her in th’ Hills.  Sasshays all over th’ scenery, an’ don’t do nothin’ but sit on rocks.”

“So she’s the daughter of that man!” said Bennington, still more slowly.

“Wall, so Mis’ Lawton sez,” chuckled Mizzou.

That night Bennington lay awake for some time.  He had discovered the Mountain Flower; the story-book West was complete at last.  But he had offended his discovery.  What was the etiquette in such a case?  Back East he would have felt called upon to apologize for being rude.  Then, at the thought of apologizing to a daughter of that turkey-necked old whisky-guzzler he had to laugh.

CHAPTER IV

THE SUN FAIRY

The next afternoon, after the day’s writing and prospecting were finished, Bennington resolved to go deer hunting.  He had skipped thirteen chapters of his work to describe the heroine, Rhoda.  She had wonderful eyes, and was, I believe, dressed in a garment whose colour was pink.

“Keep yore moccasins greased,” Old Mizzou advised at parting; by which he meant that the young man was to step softly.