A month passed by and the haze above the Sink lifted its shroud and revealed the mountains beyond; the soft blues and pinks crept back into the distance and the shadowy canyons were filled with royal purple. At dawn a silver radiance rose and glowed along the east and the sunsets stained the west with orange and gold; there was wine in the cool air, and when the night wind came up the prospectors crouched over their fires. The first October storm put a crown on Telescope Peak and tipped the lesser Panamints with snow, but still Wilhelmina waited and Wunpost did not return from his mysterious trip "inside." The time was not ripe for his notable revenge and he had forgotten Jail Canyon and her. Yet at last she saw his dust, and as she watched him through her glasses something told her that his thoughts were not of her. He was on his way, either seeking after gold or searching out the means of revenge; and if he came that way it was to find his dog and mules and not to make love to her. Their ranch was merely his half-way house, a place to feed his animals and leave them when he went away; and she was only a child, to be noticed like a fond dog, but not to be taken seriously. Billy put up her glasses and went back to the house, and when he arrived she was a woman. Her hair was done up gracefully, her nimble limbs were confined in skirts; and she smiled at him demurely, as if her mind was far away and he had recalled her from maidenly dreams. "Well, well!" exclaimed Wunpost as he limped up to the house and discovered her on the shady front porch; "where's the trusty bib-overalls and all? What's the matter--is it Sunday, or did you see my dust? Say, you don't look right without them curls!" "We're thinking of moving away," she explained quite truthfully, "and I can't wear overalls then." "Moving away!" cried Wunpost; "why, where were you thinking of going to? Has your father given up on his road?" "Well, no--or that is, he's working on a trail to pack down the ore he had sacked. And after that's shipped, if it pays him what it ought, we're going to move inside." "Oh," observed Wunpost and sat down on the porch, where he rumpled his hair reflectively. "Say," he said at last, "I've got a little roll--what's the matter if _I_ build the road?" "Shh!" she hissed, moving over and speaking low; "don't you know that Mother wouldn't hear to it? And poor Father, he feels awful bad."