I don't like to have you forget me--I shall not forget you, and I will sing for you every Sunday afternoon, and no matter where you are, in a deep canon, or anywhere, or among the Indians, you just stop and listen and think of me, and maybe you'll hear my voice." Tears were in her eyes as she spoke, and he took a man's advantage of her emotion.
"Perhaps if I come back--if I make a strike somewhere--if you'd say so----" She shook her head sadly but conclusively.

"No, no, I can't promise anything." "All right--that settles it.

Good-by." And she had nothing better to say than just "Good-by, good-by.".