According to this programme, the next afternoon the Harvester again walked down the embankment of the mourning river and through the ragged woods to the place where the ginseng had been. He went forward, stepping lightly, as men of his race had walked the forest for ages, swerving to avoid boughs, and looking straight ahead. Contrary to his usual custom of coming to heel in a strange wood, Belshazzar suddenly darted around the man and took the path they had followed the previous day. The animal was performing his office in life; he had heard or scented something unusual. The Harvester knew what that meant. He looked inquiringly at the dog, glanced around, and then at the earth. Belshazzar proceeded noiselessly at a rapid pace over the leaves:
Suddenly the master saw the dog stop in a stiff point.
Lifting his feet lightly and straining his eyes before him, the Harvester passed a spice thicket and came in line.
For one second he stood as rigid as Belshazzar. The next his right arm shot upward full length, and began describing circles, his open palm heavenward, and into his face leapt a glorified expression of exultation. Face down in the rifled ginseng bed lay a sobbing girl. Her frame was long and slender, a thick coil of dark hair;bound her head. A second more and the Harvester bent and softly patted Belshazzar's head. The beast broke point and looked up. The man caught the dog's chin in a caressing grip, again touched his head, moved soundless lips, and waved toward the prostrate figure. The dog hesitated. The Harvester made the same motions.
Belshazzar softly stepped over the leaves, passed around the feet of the girl, and paused beside her, nose to earth, softly sniffing.
In one moment she came swiftly to a sitting posture.
"Oh!" she cried in a spasm of fright.
Belshazzar reached an investigating nose and wagged an eager tail.
"Why you are a nice friendly dog!" said the trembling voice.
He immediately verified the assertion by offering his nose for a kiss. The girl timidly laid a hand on his head.
"Heaven knows I'm lonely enough to kiss a dog," she said, "but suppose you belong to the man who stole my ginseng, and then ran away so fast he forgot his----his piece he digged with."
Belshazzar pressed closer.
"I am just killed, and I don't care whose dog you are," sobbed the girl.
She threw her arms around Belshazzar's neck and laid her white face against his satiny shoulder. The Harvester could endure no more. He took a step forward, his face convulsed with pain.
"Please don't!" he begged. "I took your ginseng.
I'll bring it back to-morrow. There wasn't more than twenty-five or thirty dollars' worth. It doesn't amount to one tear."
The girl arose so quickly, the Harvester could not see how she did it. With a startled fright on her face, and the dark eyes swimming, she turned to him in one long look.
Words rolled from the lips of the man in a jumble. Behind the tears there was a dull, expressionless blue in the girl's eyes and her face was so white that it appeared blank. He began talking before she could speak, in an effort to secure forgiveness without condemnation.
"You see, I grow it for a living on land I own, and I've always gathered all there was in the country and no one cared. There never was enough in one place to pay, and no other man wanted to spend the time, and so I've always felt free to take it. Every one knew I did, and no one ever objected before. Once I paid Henry Jameson for the privilege of cleaning it from these woods. That was six or seven years ago, and it didn't occur to me that I wasn't at liberty to dig what has grown since. I'll bring it back at once, and pay you for the shrinkage from gathering it too early. There won't be much over six pounds when it's dry. Please, please don't feel badly.
Won't you trust me to return it, and make good the damage I've done?"
The face of the Harvester was eager and his tones appealing, as he leaned forward trying to make her understand.
"Certainly!" said the Girl as she bent to pat the dog, while she dried her eyes under cover of the movement.
"Certainly! It can make no difference!"
But as the Harvester drew a deep breath of relief, she suddenly straightened to full height and looked straight at him.
"Oh what is the use to tell a pitiful lie!" she cried.
"It does make a difference! It makes all the difference in the world! I need that money! I need it unspeakably.
I owe a debt I must pay. What----what did I understand you to say ginseng is worth?"
"If you will take a few steps," said the Harvester, "and make yourself comfortable on this log in the shade, I will tell you all I know about it."
The girl walked swiftly to the log indicated, seated herself, and waited. The Harvester followed to a respectful distance.
"I can't tell to an ounce what wet roots would weigh," he said as easily as he could command his voice to speak with the heart in him beating wildly, "and of course they lose greatly in drying; but I've handled enough that I know the weight I carried home will come to six pounds at the very least. Then you must figure on some loss, because I dug this before it really was ready. It does not reach full growth until September, and if it is taken too soon there is a decrease in weight. I will make that up to you when I return it."
The troubled eyes were gazing on his face intently, and the Harvester studied them as he talked.
"You would think, then, there would be all of six pounds?
"Yes," said the Harvester, "closer eight. When Ireplace the shrinkage there is bound to be over seven."
"And how much did I understand you to say it brought a pound?"
"That all depends," answered he. "If you cure it yourself, and dry it too much, you lose in weight. If you carry it in a small lot to the druggists of Onabasha, probably you will not get over five dollars for it."
"Five?"
It was a startled cry.
"How much did you expect?" asked the Harvester gently.
"Uncle Henry said he thought he could get fifty cents a pound for all I could find."
