Archie did as told, and before long all three were sound asleep. They did not care even to do sentry duty. They trusted all to fate. Silence now, except for the wind soughing through the tall mysterious-looking pine trees, or the occasional bark of fox or scream of night bird. A great cinnamon bear about midnight came snuffing around; he could have rent our sleeping heroes in pieces, but there was nothing cooking to lure him towards the fire. A stray wolf came next, and actually leapt over Kenneth's legs. He was picking up some scraps of food when McGregor moaned and tossed, and away went the wolf. "I had such a dream," cried McGregor next morning. "I say, boys, I told you there was a bank of gold up here, and I for one start digging to-day." So he did, and so did all. The only possible place to commence operations lay close to the banks of a turbulent river that came winding down through a pine-clad mountain land. Silently, almost solemnly the trio worked, speaking but little, hanging on to their pipes (if I may use so strange a phrase), and hanging on to spade, and pick, and shovel. All that day, and next, and next. About the coming of the fourth day, there was a shout from McGregor's claim. "Hurrah, boys! Hurrah, boys! Run here, lads, run here!" They did run. McGregor held up before their astonished gaze a nugget of almost pure gold as big as a baby's shoe. More gold was found every day for a week, and in gradually increasing quantities. They were already in possession of about three hundred pounds' worth. No wonder they rejoiced. No wonder they were merry. Now, around the camp fire, what stories are told, what songs are sung, what castles in the air are built! They will all be millionaires. Archie says he is going to have a nice mansion down in the Clachan, and close by the riverside, and will fish there and in the sea just as when he was a boy. Nothing will satisfy Kenneth but a house near the fairy knoll. He pulls out the old Bible, Nannie's gift, and opens it. There lie the withered flowers, and looking at them sets him a-thinking and a-wondering and a-dreaming. "Little Jessie," he says to himself, "can she still be alive? Is it possible she might one day be mine?" He restores the flowers, restores the Book of books, and lies back to gaze at the starry sky and think. But he is not allowed to. "Out with the flute, Kennie," cries Archie. "Oh, play me some dear auld Scottish lilt, that will make tears of joy well up in our eyes?" Kenneth plays tune after tune, air after air; and then the trio join voices and sing "My native Highland home" till the woods ring and pine trees nod, and distant rocks send back the chorus.