"You are right, young man, you are certainly right," Weston acknowledged, and his voice was somewhat husky. "You are more than fortunate in having such a vision. But what will it lead to?"
"That remains to be seen," Reynolds slowly replied. "Anyway, the vision I have been following has made a new man of me already. Before I saw your daughter on the street one night, I had no aim in life. I was ready to drift anywhere and into anything. But the sight of her brought me up standing, and gave me a new impulse. Even though my vision should never be attained, I am better and stronger, for what the poet says is true, that 'The striving makes the man.'"
They were crossing a wild meadow now, and before them loomed the high hill up which Reynolds had so wearily climbed in his great battle for life. He could hardly believe that they were so near the place, and he expressed his astonishment to his companion.
"We have come in a straight course," Weston explained, "and that makes the difference. When you were lost, you wandered around for a long time until you happened by chance upon yonder hill. It is a wonder to me that you ever found your way out of this region."
"So it is to me," Reynolds replied. "And to think that I was so foolish as to chase that moose after what Frontier Samson told me. I see now that the old man was right. I wonder where he can be. Perhaps he has gone back to Big Draw. I must go there, too, as soon as we return, for I feel sure that Samson is worrying about me."
"If we find that mine, you will have to hurtle to Big Draw to record our claims," Weston reminded. "One of the Indians can go with you to show the way."
"I suppose the miners will make a wild stampede into this place as soon as they hear of the discovery."
"Most likely. But there have been so many 'wild-cat' claims recorded of late that they may merely consider this another, and pay little attention to it. However, do not say much about it, and they may take no notice. We can get our haul first, and then they may come as fast as they like."
After they had crossed the wild meadow it was necessary to travel several hundred yards up the little stream at which Reynolds had slaked his thirst. The meadow ere long ended, and the high, frowning sides of the two opposing hills shouldered toward each other, thus forming a deep draw about fifty yards in width.
"It was up there where the eagle fell," Reynolds explained, as he stood looking up the ravine. "Poor creature, it was hard when it was merely doing its duty. But it saved my life, though, and perhaps that was something."