"No, no; I am not joking. I have found you. I must believe what the spirits say to me when they take my mind from me and give it to you," returned the excited man. "But really--I did not mean to take your mind. I haven't it anywhere about me. You have dreamed all this." "Yes; it may be only a dream, Miss Searles, but make it come true; please make it all come true. I should like to live such a dream." "Oh, my good man, I cannot make the dreams of casual people come true, not such serious dreams as yours." "You say you would have to live in the corral with mules. Is that because I have so little money?" "No, it is not money. I do not know how much you have." "I have often taken enough gold out of the ground in a few days to last me a year." "Yes, yes, but that is not the only thing necessary." "What is necessary, then? Tell me what you want." "There would have to be a great deal of love, you know. That is why any one marries. I have been flattered by the attentions of many cavaliers like yourself, Mr. Ermine, but I could not marry any one of them unless I loved him." "And then you do not love me," this in a low, far-away voice, lopping each word off as though with an axe. "No, I do not. I have given you no reason to think I did. I like you, and I am sorry for you, now that I know in what way you regard me. Sit down again and let me tell you." She crouched herself on the edge of her chair, and he sat in his, revolving his big hat in both hands between his knees. He was composed, and she vaguely felt that she owed him a return for his generous acts of the past. She had the light touch of mature civilization and did not desire her darts to be deadly. Now that one had laid this simple nature low, she felt a womanly impulse to nurse the wound. "Some terrible mistake has been made. Believe me, I am truly sorry that our relationship has not been rightly understood." Here she paused a moment to take a long breath and observe the effect of her words on the one who had so easily lost his head. "No, I simply admired you, Mr. Ermine, as I do many of the brave men about here. I was not thinking of marrying any one. As for living in the mule corral, I was only joking about that. There might be worse places. I should dearly love a gold mine, but don't you understand there would have to be something else--I should have to give you something before we thought of marrying." "I see it; it all comes to me now," he labored. "You would have to give me something, and you won't give me yourself. Then give me back my mind--give me the peace which I always had until I saw you. Can you do that, Miss Searles? Can you make John Ermine what he was before the steamboat came here, and let him mount his pony and go away?" It was all so strange, this quiet appeal, that she passed her hand across her forehead in despair.