Part 43 (1/2)

”You must bathe your eyes now, dear,” said Jo, ”for Mr. Tweet is coming to see you pretty soon. He told me so. Now look your best for Tweet has something serious to say to you.”

She left her then, and an hour later Tweet interrupted Jo and Hiram in Jo's little cabin on the edge of town. He came in and sat down.

”Well, Jo,” he said, ”it's a go. We'll go to work and get married to-morrow mornin', if the old bus will take us to a preacher. I guess I've loved her some time,” Tweet added bashfully. ”Lucy and me'll make nice little playmates.”

Hiram rose and gripped his old friend's hand. ”I'm mighty glad, Tweet,” he told him. ”Just too much Ragtown--that's all that was the matter with Lucy. She was kind to me up there in Frisco when I'd just come out of the woods. Her heart's warm, and that's what counts.”

Tweet's steel-blue eyes twinkled. ”Course n.o.body could blame her for makin' you spend four dollars an hour for an automobile,” he said. ”It was a crime not to roll you for your jack in those days, Hooker. I forgave her for that a long time ago.”

Next morning Basil Filer drifted into town, driving his recaptured burros ahead of him. Silently he worked at packing the bags and throwing diamond hitches.

Jerkline Jo and Hiram stood laughing at the gurgling imps of the desert, and Jo went up to Filer.

”What does this mean?” she asked. ”You're all packed up for a trip.”

The weird old eyes looked up at her queerly. ”We're goin'--out there,”

croaked Filer, a trembling finger pointing toward the fragrant desert.

”It's spring, Baby Jean--and now's the time to hunt for gold, when there's lots o' feed for the little fellas.”

”Gold!” cried Jo. ”Why, man, you've so much money coming to you that you can't spend it in the rest of your natural life.”

”Money?” he said absently. ”Yes--you've done me han'some, Baby Jean.