“Got any slate pencil?” “No.” “Ain't got any pins nor nuthin'? You kin go in for a pin.” But Florry had none of childhood's fluctuating currency with her, having, so to speak, no pockets. “Well,” said Johnny, brightening up, “ye kin go in for luv.” The child clipped him with her small arms and smiled, and, Johnny leading the way, they crept on all fours through the thick ferns until they paused before a deep fissure in the soil half overgrown with bramble. In its depths they could hear the monotonous trickle of water. It was really the source of the spring that afterwards reappeared fifty yards nearer the road, and trickled into an unfailing pool known as the Burnt Spring, from the brown color of the surrounding bracken. It was the water supply of the ranch, and the reason for Mr. Medliker's original selection of that site. Johnny lingered for an instant, looked carefully around, and then lowered himself into the fissure. A moment later he reached up his arms to Florry, lowered her also, and both disappeared from view. Yet from time to time their voices came faintly from below--with the gurgle of water--as of festive gnomes at play. At the end of ten minutes they reappeared, a little muddy, a little bedraggled, but flushed and happy. There were two pink spots on Florry's cheeks, and she clasped something tightly in her little red fist. “There,” said Johnny, when they were seated in the straw again, “now mind you don't tell.” But here suddenly Florry's lips began to quiver, and she gave vent to a small howl of anguish. “You ain't bit by a trant'ler nor nuthin'?” said Johnny anxiously. “Hush up!” “N--o--o! But”-- “But what?” said Johnny. “Mar said I MUST tell! Mar said I was to fin' out where you get the truly gold! Mar said I was to get you to take me,” howled Florry, in an agony of remorse. Johnny gasped. “You Injin!” he began. “But I won't--Johnny!” said Florry, clutching his leg frantically. “I won't and I sha'n't! I ain't no Injin!” Then, between her sobs, she told him how her mother and Mr. Staples had said that she was to ask Johnny the next time they met to take her where they found the “truly gold,” and she was to remember where it was and to tell them. And they were going to give her a new dolly and a hunk of gingerbread. “But I won't--and I sha'n't!” she said passionately. She was quite pale again. Johnny was convinced, but thoughtful. “Tell 'em,” he said hoarsely, “tell 'em a big whopper! They won't know no better. They'll never guess where.” And he briefly recounted the wild-goose chase he had given the minister. “And get the dolly and the cake,” said Florry, her eyes shining through her tears.