"If we don't find it this fall, we'll be sittin' on the mother lode
next summer," he declared, and from then until it was time to turn in
he talked of nothing but the yellow treasure it had been his lifelong
dream to find. At the last, when they had rolled in their blankets, he
raised himself on his elbow for a moment and said to Keith:
"Johnny, don't you worry about that Conniston girl. I forgot to tell
you I've took time by the forelock. Two weeks ago I wrote an' told her
I'd learned you was hittin' into the Great Slave country, an' that I
was about to hike after you. So go to sleep an' don't worry about that
pesky little rattlesnake."
"I'm not worrying," said Keith.
Fifteen minutes later he heard Duggan snoring. Quietly he unwrapped his
blanket and sat up. There were still burning embers in the fire, the
night--like that first night of his flight--was a glory of stars, and
the moon was rising. Their camp was in a small, meadowy pocket in the
center of which was a shimmering little lake across which he could
easily have thrown a stone. On the far side of this was the sheer wall
of a mountain, and the top of this wall, thousands of feet up, caught
the glow of the moon first.
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