“You are talking too much—exerting too much effort. Be quiet and rest,” commanded Elfreda.
“I got to talk. I got to talk fast. I ain’t got much more time. Write down in the book what I got to say. Ready?”
Miss Briggs nodded. “Lost River, north branch, Grandma and the Children, three peaks dead east—and there’s the bed of Lost River. In it is gold, shining gold, the promised land and—it’s yours. I ain’t got no family.”
“I don’t quite understand. Can you make it a little clearer?”
“All yours and—”
“Please don’t talk any more. I want you to rest. You are getting excited. What is gold compared to a man’s life, Mr. Petersen?”
There was no reply.
Elfreda Briggs glanced at the face, then, leaning over, peered closer.
“Get rid of the horse—shoot him. They’ll be here soon after daylight and then—”
That was all. The tired old voice trailed off into nothingness. Sam Petersen had staked his last claim.