"So this is the little one who wears the talisman," he laughed. "But it has no power to protect you from witchcraft, as I can honestly testify. See! Here in me is the proof of my story. Have you not bewitched _me_?" his strong arms moving tenderly around the girl's little jacket, while he covered her lips with kisses. "Give the talisman to me, darling, that I may wear it until your love shall be as strong for me as is my own for Eyllen!" Then the girl, thinking him in earnest, handed it to her lover who hung it about his neck beneath his waistcoat next to his heart. So the lovers had forgotten the ledges and the man among them, and thought only of their love and each other; the rocks, gold-laden though they were, as well as everything else, being then of secondary importance. [Illustration] End of Project Gutenberg's The Trail of a Sourdough, by May Kellogg Sullivan