But he missed the Indian girl. The pines on the snowy mountain-peaks whispered of her. The evenings seemed longer than formerly; the conversation of the miners less interesting. He was lonely. He was earning a fair living, but of what use was money to him if he was to feel desolate in heart? Mimosa was not of his race, but she had a lovable nature. He remembered that she looked sad at his going away. He wondered if she ever thought about him. If she had some Indian suitor, would she not wish for the ring again? He would like at least to see the man and his daughter who had saved his life. He would carry back the ring. Ah! if he knew where the gold in it came from, perhaps he would indeed become rich, and then who could make him so happy as Mimosa? Months only increased the loneliness in Martin’s heart. He was becoming discouraged again. He even began to fear that Mimosa was married, and his soul awakened to a sense of loss. He would go back just once and see her, and on his journey back he would sit for a half-hour under the tree where Red Cloud had found him. “What ails Martin?” said one miner to another. “He must be in love—no fun in him as in the old days. Going to quit camp, he says.” After Martin had decided to go to see Red Cloud his heart seemed lighter. If Mimosa were married he could at least show her his gratitude. And if she were not? Well, it would be very restful to see her once more! He started on his journey. The full moon was rising as he neared the old tree where Red Cloud had found him. As he approached he was startled by a white figure. He turned aside for a moment, and then went cautiously up to the great trunk. Two dark eyes full of tears gazed up into his eyes, at first with a startled look and then with a gleam of joy and trust. “Mimosa!” he exclaimed, and clasped the Indian girl in his arms. “Why are you here, child, at this time of night?” “I came here to think of you, Martin, and the moonlight is so sweet and comforting. The green trees and the mountains tell me of you.” “I have brought you back the ring, Mimosa.” “And are you rich yet? You were to keep it till you were rich.” “No, but I would be rich, perhaps, if you would tell me where the gold in the ring was found.” “My father gave it to me,” she replied quietly. “Mimosa, would you love me if I were rich?” “Perhaps I should be afraid of you if you were.” “Would you love me if I remained poor as I am now?” “Yes, always.” “And if I became sick and could not care for you, what then?” “_I_ would care for _you_, Martin.” “I have brought back the ring, Mimosa, that you may give it to the man who shall make you his bride.” “And would you like to keep the ring yourself, Martin?” “Yes, dearest.” They went back to the home of Red Cloud, happy because promised to each other in marriage. After a quiet wedding Mimosa said one day: “Come with me, Martin, and I will show you where the gold in the ring and the necklace were found.”