“As I think I told you, I’ve been troubled with memories that seem half dreams. I’m not sure that’s quite unusual in the case of a man who has consumed as much whisky as I have. Besides, it’s a little difficult to distinguish between dreams and what we look upon as realities, since the latter exist only in the perception of our senses, which may be deceptive. They agree on that point, don’t they, in places as dissimilar as India and Germany?”
“Are you sure you didn’t dream about the lead?” Weston asked bluntly. “It’s a point that has been troubling me for a considerable time.”
“Then why did you come up with me to search for the lake?”
“I was once or twice told at home that I was a persistent imbecile. That may account for it.”
“Well,” said Grenfell, reflectively, “your action on one or two occasions seems to warrant the observation—I mean when you stood the boys off me after I’d spoiled their supper, and the other time when you decided on my account not to stay on at the copper-mine. Still, I want to say that while I seem to know I will not make another journey on the gold trail, I’ve had a subconscious feeling of certainty since sunrise yesterday that the lake lies just ahead of us. I know nothing definite that justifies it, but we’ll probably find out to-morrow. There’s just another thing. If I leave my bones up here my share falls to you.”
He seemed disinclined for any further conversation, and Weston went to sleep again. When he awakened the moon had sunk behind the range, and a faint gray light was filtering down beneath the blackened pines. It showed the pack-horse standing close by, and Devine stretched out beneath his blanket, a shadowy, shapeless figure, but there was, as far as Weston could see, no sign of Grenfell anywhere. He called out sharply as soon as he was sure of this, and his voice rang hollowly up the valley, but there was no answer until Devine slowly shook clear of his blankets.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Grenfell’s gone.”
“Gone!” Devine was on his feet in a moment.
“It looks like it,” said Weston, sharply. “Can you see him?”