"I wanted to thank you all," she said, "and to tell you how glad I am to be back. I have met lots of people, of all sorts and kinds, but not one of them who could hold a candle to any of you three kind, true-hearted friends. I wanted to do it here where Daddy is in the place you gave him and made for him under the trees, close to the running water. I was only a girl—a kiddie—when I went away. I think I am a great deal older now, perhaps, than other girls of my age. And I realize all you have done for me. The only thing is, I don't know how to begin to thank you."
She went to Mormon and took hold of both his hands, her head raised, lips curved to kiss him. Mormon stooped and turned his weathered cheek, but Molly kissed him full on the lips. So with Sam, despite the enormous mustache. Then she came to Sandy, taller than the others, his face grave, under control, the eagerness smothered in his eyes, desire checked by reverence for the pure affection of the offered salute. He fancied that her lips trembled for a moment as they rested softly warm, upon his own. But the tremor might have been his own. He knew his heart was pounding against the slight touch of her slenderness that was manifest with womanhood. His arms ached with the restraint he set upon them, despite the presence of Mormon and Sam.
Grit surveyed the gift of thanks gravely, as a ceremony, as some ancient lineaged noble might have looked upon the bestowal of sacrament and accolade for honorably deserved knighthood. Perhaps it was that and the dog knew it. To Sandy, the little space about the grave, where the great cottonwoods waved overhead like banners, their trunks like pillars, the dappled carpet of the turf, with the sweet air blowing through the clearing and peeps of blue above through the boughs, was like a sanctuary. That the two others, men of rough life and free habit, yet of clean thought and decent custom, were touched with the same sensation, their eyes attested.
"I've brought some things for you," said Molly. "Just presents that I bought in shops. But I wanted to thank you out here where Daddy lies." She sought their glances, searching to see if they understood, satisfied.
"We're sure glad to git back the Mascot of the Three Star," said Mormon.
"An' the sooner you git through bein' eddicated an' come back fo' keeps, the better," amended Sam.
Sandy said nothing but smiled at her and Molly smiled back again.
"I think you have been my mascot rather than me yours," she demurred.
"Shucks!" said Mormon. "Yore mine, warn't it? He found it," he added, setting a brown big hand on the headstone. "You wait till you see what we bought with our share of the Molly Mine. Prime stock an' machinery. Look at the new corrals an' buildin's. Wait till you've gone over the place. An' we sure have been lucky with everythin'. I'll say you're a mascot."
"I've still got my lucky piece," she said and pulled out of her neck, suspended by the fine chain of gold, the gold piece with which Sandy had won the stake that had started her east. "Now show me all the improvements. We'll get Kate Nicholson. She's a first-class scout if you ever get her out of the shell she crawled into a long time ago when her folks suddenly lost everything they had. If we had a piano, Sam, she'd play the soul out of your body. Wait until she gets at the harmonium to-night. You and she will have to play duets, Sam, you on the three-decked harmonica I got for you."