"Of course I would, my son."
"And perhaps I could find father's tunnel. Say, mother, did you ever hear what became of that Tad Kieser after father's death?" he inquired.
"No, son, I never heard. He wrote me one letter, expressing his sympathy, and in that letter I remember he said he had abandoned the tunnel because he was convinced that it was not a safe place to work, and probably it never would have amounted to anything, anyway."
"Do you suppose he is still prospecting somewhere in the mountains, mother?"
"I don't know, Willis. Probably not, for that was ten years ago, you know."
The remains of the last log dropped between the andirons and rolled over.
Mrs. Thornton rose.
"It's time we were in bed, son, long ago." With that she gently bent, kissed him on the forehead, and slipped off to her own room, leaving him with the dying fire. He sat still a long time, his eyes wide open and his fists clenched.
"If I only could," he was saying. "If I only could."
CHAPTER III
In Which Willis Is Honored