"I was thinking of my father."
Louise saw his lips stiffen and his chin lift. "Louise, I had no right, just now,—I haven't any right—I'm poor. The claim wasn't ours."
"I didn't mean that," she said, smiling wistfully. "But you will always care for me, won't you? I don't care one bit about the claim. It has made trouble and sorrow enough. I can't remember my father. I can hardly think of him as my father. But it is horrible to think of his dying for water because he cared so much for gold."
"But how did you know?"
"I know," she answered gravely. "And I know that you are a very, very foolish boy, not to trust your friends more than you do. Did you suppose you would be happier or better in leaving Moonstone Rancho? Did you suppose I would be happier? Collie, you have so much to learn."
"I guess that's so," he sighed. Then his eyes brightened with his old-time mischief. "Couldn't you begin now to teach me a little—like back there in the cañon?"
And being of a decisive habit of mind, he rode close to Louise and claimed immediate and delicious instruction.
"But how did you know?" he asked again—"about the claim and your father and me?"
"A secret that I share with Overland," she replied.