He had no knowledge of the arts of circumlocution. He drew from his pocket a folded paper and began his story where, in his thought, he had meant to end it.
“I have brought you something to keep for me,” he said, opening out the paper and handing it to her.
She looked it over wonderingly. There was a rough sketch of a mountain-range, with one peak indicated by a little cross. At one side was a little map, with directions and distances plainly set out, and half a page of minute instructions as to routes and trails. Gard’s training in the surveyor’s gang had served him in good stead here.
“What is it, precisely?” the girl asked; for complete as it seemed, there was no word to indicate just what it was intended to show.
“That’s what I want to tell you,” was his answer. “It wasn’t best to put too much on the paper. I got taught that the other day; but what is set down there would guide you straight to my gold-mine if ever you wanted to go.”
She flushed, slightly.
“Why should I ever want to go?” she asked, on the defensive against his eyes. “Don’t prospectors generally consider it imprudent to show such things as this?”
“Awfully imprudent. You must put it away where it will be very safe, and keep it for me.”
“But why do you wish me to keep it? I think you are rash.” Helen held the paper toward him, but he put her hand back, pleadingly.
“Please keep it for me,” he urged; “I—I wish it above all things. I am afraid—I expect to have to go away for a time, to a place where I could not keep it—for a long time, perhaps.”