It was his cousin, standing a few yards from him in evident hesitation.  She was quite pale, and for a moment he thought she was still suffering from her fall, until he saw in her nervous, half-embarrassed manner that it had no physical cause.  Her old audacity and anger seemed gone, yet there was a queer determination in her pretty brows.

“Good-evening,” he said.

She did not return his greeting, but pulling uneasily at her glove, said hesitatingly:  “Uncle has asked you to sell him this land?”

“Yes.”

“Well—­don’t!” she burst out abruptly.

He stared at her.

“Oh, I’m not trying to keep you here,” she went on, flashing back into her old temper; “so you needn’t stare like that.  I say, ‘Don’t,’ because it ain’t right, it ain’t fair.”

“Why, he’s left me no alternative,” he said.

“That’s just it—­that’s why it’s mean and low.  I don’t care if he is our uncle.”

Jackson was bewildered and shocked.

“I know it’s horrid to say it,” she said, with a white face; “but it’s horrider to keep it in!  Oh, Jack! when we were little, and used to fight and quarrel, I never was mean—­was I?  I never was underhanded—­was I?  I never lied—­did I?  And I can’t lie now.  Jack,” she looked hurriedly around her, “He wants to get hold of the land—­he thinks there’s gold in the slope and bank by the stream.  He says dad was a fool to have located his claim so high up.  Jack! did you ever prospect the bank?”

A dawning of intelligence came upon Jackson.  “No,” he said; “but,” he added bitterly, “what’s the use?  He owns the water now,—­I couldn’t work it.”

“But, Jack, if you found the color, this would be a mining claim!  You could claim the water right; and, as it’s your land, your claim would be first!”

Jackson was startled.  “Yes, if I found the color.”

“You would find it.”

“Would?”

“Yes!  I did—­on the sly!  Yesterday morning on your slope by the stream, when no one was up!  I washed a panful and got that.”  She took a piece of tissue paper from her pocket, opened it, and shook into her little palm three tiny pin points of gold.

“And that was your own idea, Jossy?”

“Yes!”

“Your very own?”

“Honest Injin!”

“Wish you may die?”

“True, O King!”

He opened his arms, and they mutually embraced.  Then they separated, taking hold of each other’s hands solemnly, and falling back until they were at arm’s length.  Then they slowly extended their arms sideways at full length, until this action naturally brought their faces and lips together.  They did this with the utmost gravity three times, and then embraced again, rocking on pivoted feet like a metronome.  Alas! it was no momentary inspiration.  The most casual and indifferent observer could see that it was the result of long previous practice and shameless experience.  And as such—­it was a revelation and an explanation.