With the reader's permission we shall turn our attention to Tom Marshall who was returning to Mexico at the time we last heard of him. He had left his Indian partner prospecting there, for both of them had hopes in the possibilities of the mine despite its apparent fruitlessness.

There was a warm friendship between the two men who had grown to know each other in their solitude. It was the Indian who had urged Tom to make his trip home and who had insisted that the latter take most of their small capital on hand for his expenses.

His return was at best a weary trip. He had left the train at El Paso, then had made his way westward and at a lonely point had crossed over into Mexico. Despite the outlaw bands everywhere he had no trouble on the way, although he had been on the road for over two weeks.

He had now quickened his pace for he was on the last lap. His weariness fell from him like a discarded mantle. In his heart was a great eagerness to see his friend and still a hope that he had proved successful. A rather vague hope—for the man's optimism which had always been strong, in the last few years had received some severe jolts.

At last he could see their hut. He could make out the figure of the Indian carrying water toward it. He hastened his step.

The keen ear of the Indian must have heard him, for he suddenly stood erect and with his eyes shaded by his left hand he searched the road. Then he saw Marshall approaching. He watched him for a moment, motionless, without any semblance of feeling. Then suddenly he answered the waving, shouting greeting of his partner with a whoop and no less swiftly and eagerly hurried forward to meet him.

"Hello, Tom, I'm glad to see you."

"No less than I am, old man. It's good to get back and I certainly missed you."

The Indian smiled his pleasure. He had associated so long with the white people that he spoke, except at rare moments, after the manner of his white brothers. Even his habits, thoughts and manners were no different and to the ordinary observer it would have been impossible to recognize him as an Indian, except for his copper-hued complexion.

"I'm sorry about your mother, Tom, but it was a blessed thing for you to have been home before she passed away."

"That is was, partner. But I had some time getting there." And he went into the story of how he made his way, and how sickness had overcome him.

"I don't know what I would have done without the help of a little angel of mercy who took me to the hospital, wrote home for me and then saw to it that I got enough money to get home."

The Indian listened interestedly.

"Now tell me what has happened here," Tom added.

"Well, I've had some proof that there is silver here. Not much proof, but some. I have been waiting for you to come back so that we could rig up another block and tackle and bore and go to it at a certain point that may show results. I think there is some chance of its proving 'pay dirt.'"

"I shall be ready at any time," replied Tom. "It would be splendid if we could make a strike, wouldn't it?"

The Indian nodded his head; then as something came to his mind, he added:

"Barton is coming this way tomorrow and we can get him to bring us some things we need from the States. He'll be back next week."

"Good," replied Marshall. "I will also give him a few letters I want mailed."

Tom turned to the writing of his letters. One was to his cousin. He wrote a short note to Mary Lee thanking her for her letter which he received at El Paso. He spoke of his partner and of the bare possibility of finding silver in plenty at the mine.

The Indian smoked his pipe while his partner was writing, watching him with a feeling of contentment. He had been very lonesome for him. He was of the type that become strongly attached to people and the acquaintance of this man now so busily writing was the second of his great friendships. Now his mind wandered a little back to the time, more than twelve years before, when he had had other friends.

He was brought back to the present with a start.

"Here is that little girl that did so much for me," Marshall, unaware of the flow of his friend's thoughts, interrupted, as he handed the envelope and letter to him.

The man looked at the envelope with passing interest. But even as he looked, a strange thrill came over him. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Were his eyes playing tricks with his wandering thoughts? He rubbed them again. Then he turned to his partner who was watching him curiously.

What was this miracle that brought the past back to him? Surely it was naught but a trick, a coincidence!

To Tom Marshall, watching him with increasing interest, the Indian turned questioningly, and even as he turned there suddenly came to the white man similarity of names, for his partner was named Jim Lee. Yet, surely the girl was not Indian.

Jim Lee's emotion brought his words back to the beauty of Indian phrasing.

"The Great Spirit gives strange proof of his greatness. My partner, who is very dear to me, will listen while I tell him the story of what has been.

"Fifteen years ago and even more, I was up in Alaska. A man, a stranger to me, risked his life and saved mine. More than that, he shared the little he had with me, through the long winter, even though he went hungry often. That was brave and it was good. So I, who had no call of bloodfolk, found my call there. Stewart and I, we did things, but it brought no returns in white man's gold. Then this man returned to where his family was waiting and he was sorrowful that he could bring no wealth. I went with him. Could I do more?

"A fine man was he. The Great Spirit called him about three years later and he answered. And even as he passed on to the Great Beyond, he turned to me and wished that I would do what I could for his loved ones.

"It was little enough I could do, but that little I did. Gentle and kind was Mrs. Stewart; and little Mary, but two years old, was a great playmate. The days were cheerful and even comfortable. Mrs. Stewart named Mary—Mary Lee—for two reasons: For me, and because it sounded as if it were Merri-ly. And a merry spirit she was.

"The little girl was eight years old when the Great Spirit called again and this time Mrs. Stewart made answer. A sorry time it was; but sorrier days were to come, for they who plan things decided that Jim Lee, because he was an Indian, was not the proper person to take care of one who was dearer than all life to him.

"They took the little girl away even as she cried and would not go. She went East and they would not tell me where. And then I decided that perhaps it was better so. She was young and would forget. Perhaps she would be happier.

"And now you come and bring back—from out of the past—news of a very dear one. So blame me not, if I am moved. I shall leave you, my brother, for an hour or so, for I would be alone."

The Indian walked out of the hut. For more than three hours Tom Marshall was alone. Then Lee returned, but he offered no comment and the white man respected his wish for silence.

"Shall I write and tell Mary Lee that you are here?" Tom Marshall inquired the next morning. "Or, perhaps you would like to write to her yourself?"

Lee made no answer for a moment and seemed to be debating the question.

"No, thank you, I think not. We will wait," he finally decided.

Barton came the next morning and took the mail and also promised to do the necessary shopping for them.

The two men turned to the work in hand. It was not long before they were ready for further drilling and before the month was up they were fairly assured of prospective success. If the vein did not "peter out" their fortune was certain.

But they made no mention of their probable success to the one or two stray Mexicans who passed. They would not be in possession very long if the news were made public.

Jim Lee had by now received all the information that Marshall could give him of Mary Lee. Moreover he had made Tom repeat it to him a dozen times at least.

On the day when their success was no longer in doubt, Tom was painting in glowing colors his plans and what he would do with his share of the mine. The Indian, however, gave no inkling of his intentions. Tom noticed the fact.

"What are you going to do with your share, Jim?" he asked.

"My share is for Mary Lee. It could not be otherwise."

Tom nodded understandingly. He already realized how much the Indian's loyalty and faith were wrapped up in the girl. It was because of the debt his partner owed to Stewart and because of his added devotion to the girl.

"Tom," the Indian added, "now that the subject is up, I might as well tell you my wishes. If anything happens to me, you will see that my share is turned over to her, will you?"

"Of course," was the answer. "But nothing is going to happen to you, and if there is going to be any turning over, it will be done by you."

The days that followed were eager, eventful days. Jim Lee was able to make a safe trip over the border and make a deposit of a large supply of the silver without anyone's being the wiser. He informed the president of the bank of the need of secrecy and that gentleman saw to it that no inkling of the source of the silver leaked out. Then a week or so later Tom came over with another supply which had been stored.

In two months there was over fifty thousand dollars to their credit at the bank.

Then rumors and actual proofs of the approach of the revolutionists came to them. One morning Tom spoke of this and wondered how long it would be safe for them to continue carrying the silver across the border without being discovered.

"It seems to me," he added thoughtfully, "it might pay us to play safe. What do you think of destroying all evidence of the fact that this mine exists and leaving here for a year or so? Things might be safer for us then and we would always have the mine. In the meantime we have this money on deposit to help us along."

"I've thought of that," replied Jim Lee. "We might even be able to sell the mine to people who would be ready to take the risk or who would wait for the safe and settled times."

"I hadn't thought of that," was Tom's comment. "We probably could sell—it is only a question of whether we wish to."

Once they had come to a decision they immediately set to work to destroy all clues and made it appear as if the location had been forsaken as worthless. They made good work of it. After they were through they felt that there was small probability of anyone's making any investigation.

A few days later they returned to the States. They drew out what money they needed.

"We'll go North for a while. First we'll stop at my house, then we'll go to the city and visit Mary Lee. Is that satisfactory, Jim?"

Jim agreed. They reached Tom Marshall's home, but stayed for a few days only. Tom could see how eager his friend was to see the girl and so he hastened their departure.