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Grey, Zane, 1872-1939

"Riders of the Purple Sage"

Then I hated to tell you."
"Are you going to now?"
"Yes--yes. I was coming to it. I tried yesterday, but you were so
cold. I was afraid. I couldn't keep it much longer."
"Very well, most mysterious lady, tell your wonderful secret."
"You needn't laugh," she retorted, with a first glimpse of
reviving spirit. "I can take the laugh out of you in one second."
"It's a go."
She ran through the spruces to the cave, and returned carrying
something which was manifestly heavy. Upon nearer view he saw
that whatever she held with such evident importance had been
bound up in a black scarf he well remembered. That alone was
sufficient to make him tingle with curiosity.
"Have you any idea what I did in your absence?" she asked.
"I imagine you lounged about, waiting and watching for me," he
replied, smiling. "I've my share of conceit, you know."
"You're wrong. I worked. Look at my hands." She dropped on her
knees close to where he sat, and, carefully depositing the black
bundle, she held out her hands. The palms and inside of her
fingers were white, puckered, and worn.
"Why, Bess, you've been fooling in the water," he said.
"Fooling? Look here!" With deft fingers she spread open the black
scarf, and the bright sun shone upon a dull, glittering heap of
gold.
"Gold!" he ejaculated.
"Yes, gold! See, pounds of gold! I found it--washed it out of the
stream--picked it out grain by grain, nugget by nugget!"
"Gold!" he cried.


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