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Page 62
Keith forced a grin. Duggan didn't know. He hadn't guessed what that
"little tiger who would have liked to have bit open his throat" had
been to him. The thick-headed old hero, loyal to the bottom of his
soul, hadn't guessed. And it came to Keith then that he would never
tell him. He would keep that secret. He would bury it in his burned-out
soul, and he would be "joyful" if he could. Duggan's blazing, happy
face, half buried in its great beard, was like the inspiration and
cheer of a sun rising on a dark world. He was not alone. Duggan, the
old Duggan of years ago, the Duggan who had planned and dreamed with
him, his best friend, was with him now, and the light came back into
his face as he looked toward the mountains. Off there, only a few miles
distant, was the Little Fork, winding into the heart of the Rockies,
seeking out its hidden valleys, its trailless canons, its hidden
mysteries. Life lay ahead of him, life with its thrill and adventure,
and at his side was the friend of all friends to seek it with him. He
thrust out his hands.
"God bless you, Andy," he cried. "You're the gamest pal that ever
lived!"
A moment later Duggan pointed to a clump of timber half a mile ahead.
"It's past dinner-time," he said. "There's wood. If you've got any
bacon aboard, I move we eat."
An hour later Andy was demonstrating that his appetite was as voracious
as ever. Before describing more of his own activities, he insisted that
Keith recite his adventures from the night "he killed that old skunk,
Kirkstone."
It was two o'clock when they resumed their journey. An hour later they
struck the Little Fork and until seven traveled up the stream. They
were deep in the lap of the mountains when they camped for the night.
After supper, smoking his pipe, Duggan stretched himself out
comfortably with his back to a tree.
"Good thing you come along when you did, Johnny," he said. "I been
waitin' in that valley ten days, an' the eats was about gone when you
hove in sight. Meant to hike back to the cabin for supplies tomorrow or
next day. Gawd, ain't this the life! An' we're goin' to find gold,
Johnny, we're goin' to find it!"
"We've got all our lives to--to find it in," said Keith.
Duggan puffed out a huge cloud of smoke and heaved a great sigh of
pleasure. Then he grunted and chuckled. "Lord, what a little firebrand
that sister of Conniston's is!" he exclaimed. "Johnny, I bet if you'd
walk in on her now, she'd kill you with her own hands. Don't see why
she hates you so, just because you tried to save your life. Of course
you must ha' lied like the devil. Couldn't help it. But a lie ain't
nothin'. I've told some whoppers, an' no one ain't never wanted to kill
me for it. I ain't afraid of McDowell. Everyone said the Chink was a
good riddance. It's the girl. There won't be a minute all her life she
ain't thinkin' of you, an' she won't be satisfied until she's got you.
That is, she thinks she won't. But we'll fool the little devil, Johnny.
We'll keep our eyes open--an' fool her!"
"Let's talk of pleasanter things," said Keith. "I've got fifty traps in
the pack, Andy. You remember how we used to plan on trapping during the
winter and hunting for gold during the summer?"
Duggan rubbed his hands until they made a rasping sound; he talked of
lynx signs he had seen, and of marten and fox. He had panned "colors"
at a dozen places along the Little Fork and was ready to make his
affidavit that it was the same gold he had dredged at McCoffin's Bend.
"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. Without awakening his comrade, Keith walked
to the lake. He watched the golden illumination as it fell swiftly
lower over the face of the mountain. He could see it move like a great
flood. And then, suddenly, his shadow shot out ahead of him, and he
turned to find the moon itself glowing like a monstrous ball between
the low shoulders of a mountain to the east. The world about him became
all at once vividly and wildly beautiful. It was as if a curtain had
lifted so swiftly the eye could not follow it. Every tree and shrub and
rock stood out in a mellow spotlight; the lake was transformed to a
pool of molten silver, and as far as he could see, where shoulders and
ridges did not cut him out, the moonlight was playing on the mountains.
In the air was a soft droning like low music, and from a distant crag
came the rattle of loosened rocks. He fancied, for a moment, that Mary
Josephine was standing at his side, and that together they were
drinking in the wonder of this dream at last come true. Then a cry came
to his lips, a broken, gasping man-cry which he could not keep back,
and his heart was filled with anguish.
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