At the sound of his voice the young man started, but gazed at the unshorn face, the poverty-stricken figure, unconvinced.
"Ye have some means of identification, perhaps?" suggested Barney, in all good faith. "A strawberry mark, or a lock of your sainted mother's hair?"
Durant thought a moment. "No one here knows me by the name. But, wait! I have a picture of my daughter Evelyn, whom Walter will recognize. Evelyn will bear witness that I'm her own dear daddy." He felt in his breast, but not finding what he sought, gave a smothered cry. "Lost—my little Evie, have I lost you?"
"This is herself, I'm thinking!" Scarlett held out the miniature. "I found her on this spot, putting the wild roses to the blush."
"Thank you—thank you! Evie!" Durant covered the portrait with kisses.
"Which was to be proved," remarked Barney, conclusively, handing Durant his mail. "There's a thrifle av duty to pay on it, sorr."
Durant's expectant hand dropped to his side. "I—I'm rather down on my luck just now," he faltered.
While Barney hesitated between conscience and good will, Scarlett whispered in his ear. "Good!" he then exclaimed. "The Sergeant will settle it, Misther Durant. I mean," he corrected himself as Scarlett kicked his leg, "it is already settled. Me man here," he indicated his superior, "a great blockhead ordinarily, but with lucid intervals, reminds me that the duty was prepaid beforehand in advance."
When the soldiers had moved away, Walter Pierce found his voice. "Then you are Durant. But where, where, where is the wonderful Rainbow Mine?"
"Where it always has been—in the clouds!"