“What’s the matter, old chap?” Clay asked as soon as they were beyond the hearing of those on board the Rambler.
“First, I want you to keep your eye on that mountain,” Case replied. “It’s due to come at any minute now. I noted the time it came yesterday by my watch, and it is nearly it now.”
Mystified, Clay gazed up at the lofty mountain. Being so early in the winter and still in the midst of the windy season, the mountain was free from snow, save where it nestled in the pockets and crevices, and the main part of it lay naked and exposed to the eye. It was like a huge cake packed layer after layer, each layer getting smalled and smaller until the apex was hidden in eternal snows. Each layer was made of a different strata of which the mountain was composed. Here was a dull-red streak indicating the presence of iron ore, above it the dull grey of granite, and below that a curious blend of green. As Clay stood looking up, the miracle happened. The low slanting sun lingered on the mountain’s face for a minute and it became as a thing transformed, all its varying hues stood out blended softly together by the sun’s lingering rays. Pink, red, lavender and green blended for a moment in one harmonious whole, then the sun’s rays passed on and—the vision of beauty was gone.
Clay drew in a breath of keenest pleasure. “Glorious,” he exclaimed.
“Don’t it suggest anything to you?” questioned Case.
“A great big, beautiful rainbow seen close to, of course,” Clay replied promptly.
“Nothing more?” Case suggested.
Clay thought for a moment. “I’ve got it,” he suddenly exclaimed. “That mountain marks the bend in the river, and that rainbow furnishes the rest. It’s Rainbow Bend, the place Ike’s uncle lives. He must have a camp in the next cove. Funny that we should be neighbors so long and never know it.”
“I wouldn’t say anything to Ike about it, not just now at any rate,” Clay said slowly. “I—well, I did a little exploring myself after I saw that rainbow yesterday and I found a little cabin of logs in that next cove. The door was open a bit and the cabin was partly full of snow, but in one corner, back behind the door, was a sight that made me hustle out into the open air with my legs shaking a bit, I guess, Clay,” and the lad’s voice lowered. “It was the skeleton of a man, a big man with bent shoulders. His skull was smashed to pieces and an axe lay close by with some grayish hairs sticking to it.”
Clay turned back for the Rambler. “Let’s be getting back,” he said quietly, “we will slip away tomorrow and bury the body and say nothing to the boys until winter is over. This country is no place to brood in over anything.”