Alvira nodded.

"Yep. Hit means business, shore, if he's a-gallavantin' over to Pleasant Valley to pan gold. Hit means he's aimin' to marry her." She waxed scornful, with the intolerance of her sixteen years. "Hit's plumb ridic'lous--at his age."

"Seems like he was 'most ole enough to git sense," Plutina agreed.

"Mebby we're mistook 'bout his intentions," Alvira suggested, hopefully. "O' course, he git's a heap of enjoyment settin' to Widder Brown. But he hain't got to be plumb foolish, an' marry her. I guess as how hit's fer you-all he's arter the gold kase Zeke'll be comin' home by-'n'-bye."

Plutina shook her head dubiously. It was the custom of the lover himself to seek, in the gold-bearing sands of the tiny mountain stream to the west, for the grains from which to fashion a ring for his sweetheart. Many a wife of the neighborhood wore such proudly on forefinger or thumb. The old man was not fond enough of toil to undertake the slow washing out of gold there unless for a selfish sentimental reason. And her fears were confirmed that afternoon by Zeke's mother whom she visited.

"They hain't nary chance to save him no more," the old woman averred, lugubriously. "Hit's allus been said hyarbouts as how a feller allus gits his gal shore, if he pans her a ring in Pleasant Valley."