"And all this," Jean made a wide sweep with his arm, "because the paying vein they had been so frantically following was lost. It might have been found, Mr. Packard told me, but another rich strike was made on Eagle Head Mountain and the inhabitants of this camp, to a man, deserted it and flocked to that new mine, and from there they probably followed other lures, ending, I suppose, as poor, or poorer, than when they began." Dan was interested. "Then the lost vein may still be here, who knows?" he commented with a backward glance at the deserted camp they had left. And yet, was it deserted? As soon as the young people were gone a stealthy figure appeared, slinking out of one of the huts. It was the old Ute Indian and since he carried a pick and shovel, it was quite evident that he had started out to dig. Was it the lost vein or some other treasure that he sought? CHAPTER XXVII. THE GREEN HILLS RANCH Shielded from the fury of the storms by gently sloping foothills, the rambling Packard ranch house presented a very inviting appearance to the young people as the two big horses carefully picked their way down the last steep trail. "O, how beautiful!" was Jane's involuntary exclamation when the level road, having been reached, she felt freer to look about and admire the scene. "I had no idea that a mere ranch could be so attractive." A great change was evident in the Eastern girl, and Jean Sawyer had been quick to notice it. Not once that morning had she seemed to be posing that she might appear more charming to him. She was just sweetly, sincerely natural. The reason, perhaps, was that Jane had suffered so much since his last visit that she had changed her estimate of real values. She was so happy, so at peace deep in her heart. She had learned that her mother's little ones were dearer to her than all else, and so the impression she might make had dwindled in importance. If Jean had thought her beautiful on the day of their first meeting, he thought her more lovely now, although her face showed evidence of a great weariness and the hours of anxiety through which she had passed. He smiled up at her as he walked at her side, one hand resting on the horse's bridle. "Mr. Packard and I have tried out many schemes to make our home more beautiful," he told her. "That little artificial lake surrounded by cottonwood trees and willows we made quite by ourselves. A mountain stream flows into it. Indeed, there are many springs in these foothills and that is why they have such a soft, velvety-green appearance when the desert and mountains are so dry." They were passing through a vegetable garden where a beaming Chinaman, hoe in hand, nodded to them. Then came the flower gardens and Meg's enthusiasm, though expressed in her usual quiet way, was very evident. "How you do love flowers," Dan said, smiling up at her.