After a time the miner, still a young man, gained in strength, and began once more to hope for a successful future.
“Mimosa,” he said one day, “I owe my life to you, and if I am ever rich I will come back and reward you.”
“I shall miss you,” said the girl shyly. “But I want no money. I shall be happy because you are well again and happy.”
“I shall yet find gold, Mimosa. I used to think I should be rich, and then I became poor and sick and lost heart. You wear a ring on your finger and sometimes a chain about your neck, both of beaten gold. Did the metal come from mines near here?”
“My father gave them to me,” she replied, and nothing more could be learned from her on the subject.
“Would you care, Mimosa, if I wore the ring until I went away? Perhaps I can find the place where the gold came from.”
“You may wear it till you come back rich,” she said, smiling.
Days grew into weeks, and the time drew near for the miner to say good-by to the girl who had become his comrade as well as deliverer. Tears filled her eyes as they parted. “You will forget Mimosa,” she said.
“No, I will bring back the ring, and you shall give it to the man who makes you his bride. I shall never forget Red Cloud nor his daughter.”
Strong and hopeful again, Martin took up life, obtained work, and believed once more that he should find gold.