“My God!” exclaimed Jack, greatly agitated. “Tell me all she said.”
“She left a package of letters for her boy should his whereabouts ever be discovered, and I have kept them securely locked. Mother said it was useless to try to find him.”
Jack’s eyes were blurred with tears as he looked at the picture; the same wonderfully blue eyes and golden hair. Even as a boy, the sensitive mouth showed a downward curve. Jack leaned his head wearily against Clicker’s neck, as he said: “Miss Kurtz, in befriending this Spanish woman, you have placed the discoverer of ‘Old Ninety-Nine’ under a debt of deep gratitude.”
She looked puzzled and he continued, “This is a picture of Hernando Genung who located my father’s mine and developed it too. He is a hero and a martyr and you may well prize his picture.”
“But I shall send it to him along with the letters,” said Elsie.
“No,” Jack protested firmly, “wear it always, but give me in writing a full account of his mother’s time with you and I will forward that and the letters to my father.”
Jack’s cheeks were colorless and his wan look made Elsie’s heart ache. Something more than ordinary grief was back of this, but she dared not speak and felt greatly relieved when they drew up before Mr. Nelson’s house.
It was a one-story adobe building built around a courtyard and around this ran a piazza onto which a door from each room opened. In front was a large central door, and opposite this was another leading to a corral in the rear. The windows were small and placed high.
They saw Mr. Nelson himself coming by a well-beaten path from the creek. He had evidently not heard their approach for his glance was fixed on some object up the stream but on turning an angle he saw them and a hearty “Howdy!” indicated that Elsie was no stranger. He shook hands warmly, scanning Jack’s letter as a matter of secondary consideration.
Nine of Mr. Nelson’s children were married and settled in homes of their own and Dora, his remaining one, now approached with her mother.