“And I dhramed that a little ways down the kinyon widened out, so that the sthraam run slower like, and down thar was goold—yes, goold enough to make a sootible prisent to the Pope of Rome, and there it had been layin’ fur miny long years, waitin’ till Teddy O’Doherty should come along and scoop it up—and that’s jist what Teddy O’Doherty is goin’ to do this minute.”
And diverging to the right, they began making their way up out of the valley, so as to come up around to the cañon at the top. Before they had reached, or were near enough to decide the point, the Irishman stopped again, and laying his hand upon the arm of his companion, said, in the same deeply earnest manner:
“Do yees belaave me dhraam, Steb.?”
“I can’t say yet,” returned the trapper, reluctant to confess his faith in that, which, to say the least, had deeply impressed him.
“I dhraamed that the widenin’ in the kinyon was about a hundred yards below where the kinyon begins. Let us saa whither it is true.”
With an intensity of interest which it would be difficult to understand, the two men strode rapidly forward, their gait increasing almost to a run, as they neared the cañon. A few moments more and the question was settled.
The widening of the cañon was precisely as Teddy had dreamed!
Both men stood, for several moments too astounded to speak. Then the Irishman asked, with a strange smile:
“Do yees belave it now?”