Doing it in the side hill a good two hundred feet away from the gold streak, too, I will add.
The Little Woman watched until the squaw and her man were out of sight, and then she took a small canteen and filled it, got her rifle, pocketed her automatic revolver, and tied Babe's sunbonnet firmly under Babe's double chin.

She could not take the mule, because Casey had ridden him, so she walked, and carried Babe most of the way on her back.

She kept to the gulches until she was too far away to be seen in the sage, even when a squaw was squinting sharp-eyed after her.
She came, in the course of two hours or so, to the lip of the canyon, and who-whooed to Casey, mucking out after a shot he had put down in the location hole.

Casey looked up, waved his hand and then came running.

No whim would send the Little Woman on a four-mile walk with a heavy child like Babe to carry, and Casey was as white as he'll ever get when he met her halfway to the bottom of the canyon.
"Take Babe and let's get back to the claim," she panted.