“How far was the valley from the inlet?” he asked.
“I can’t tell you. I think I was four days on the trail, but it might have been more. I was too sick to remember. Anyway, there was a creek you could run the logs down.”
Vane nodded. “Well,” he said, “how far was the inlet from the rancherie?”
“I was in the canoe part of one night and some of the next day. Guess thirty miles wouldn’t be far out.”
“That’s something to go upon.”
Vane rose. “If Drayton will come along with me, I’ll send him back with a hundred dollars. It’s part of the first payment—but your getting it now should make things a little easier for Celia.”
“But you haven’t located the spruce yet.”
“I’m going to locate it, if the thing’s anyway possible.” Vane shook hands with the man. “I expect to get off up the Strait very shortly.”
The prospector looked at him with relief and gratitude in his eyes, “You’re white—and I guess you’d be mighty hard to beat.”
Vane touched Drayton’s arm, and when they reached the street, his companion glanced at him with open admiration.