“A while back, you thought the money fever was getting hold of me, Harry, but I hope you were wrong. Of course, there are things I want to do; one in particular that money would help me to do. It was my main reason for heading west from New Hampshire a little less than a year ago.”
“Is it something you can talk about?”
“I guess so—to you,” and, breaking masterfully through whatever barrier of the reticences remained, he told the story of his father’s disappearance, of the cloud which still shadowed the Trask name, of his own unshakable belief in his father’s innocence, and, lastly, of his determination to find the lost man and to clear the family name.
“You see how the money will help; how I couldn’t hope to do much of anything without money and the use of my own time,” he said in conclusion. Then, the ingrained habit of withdrawal slipping back into its well-worn groove: “You won’t talk about this, Harry? You are the only person this side of New Hampshire who knows anything about it.”
“It is safe enough with me, Phil; you ought to know that, by this time. And here is my shy at the thing: if it so happens that the ‘Little Jean’ is only flirting with us—that we get only a loaf of bread where we’re hoping to hog the whole bakery—you may have my share if your own isn’t big enough to finance your job. I owe you a good bit more than the ‘Little Jean’ will ever pan out on my side of the partnership.”
“Oh, hell,” said Philip; and the expression was indicative of many things not written down in the book of the Philip who, a few months earlier, had found it difficult and boyishly embarrassing to meet a strange young woman on the common ground of a chance train acquaintanceship. Then, “If you’ve smoked your pipe out, we’d better roll in. There is more of the hard work ahead of us for to-morrow.”
But the next morning they found, upon breaking camp and emerging from the forest at timber line, that the blessing of good luck was with them still more abundantly. With a thousand and one chances to miss it in their haphazard climb, they had come upon an easily practicable pass over the range; and beyond the pass there was a series of gentle descents leading them by the middle of the afternoon into a valley which they quickly recognized as their own.
Pushing forward at the best speed that could be gotten out of the loaded pack animals, they traversed the windings of the valley with nerves on edge and muscles tensed, more than half expecting to find a struggle for re-possession awaiting them in the treasure gulch. At the last, when the more familiar landmarks began to appear, Philip drew his rifle from its holster under his leg and rode on ahead to reconnoitre, leaving Bromley to follow with the jacks. But in a few minutes he came galloping back, waving his gun in the air and shouting triumphantly.
“All safe, just as we left it!” he announced as he rode up. And then, with a laugh that was the easing of many strains: “What a lot of bridges we cross before we come to them! Here we’ve been sweating blood for fear the claim had been jumped—or at least I have—and I don’t suppose there has been a living soul within miles of it since we left. Kick those canaries into action and let’s get along and make camp on the good old stamping ground.”