“Durin’ the winter I had talked with an ol’ Indian, who used to live on Settlement River. He told me that about twenty years before a white prospector had made a big strike in the foothills west o’ Settlement Mountain. I decided to go there, though as a usual thing I don’t put much stock in these yarns o’ the Nitchies.
“So jus’ before the first big thaw, I slips out there, while the frost is still in the ground an’ builds me a small shack. Mebbe yuh saw it—a little way back from the ravine that yuh come into before reachin’ the pass. Well, I prospected through that country an’ one day I struck it rich. Nothin’ very big, sergeant, but it looked good to me then. I had nearly two thousand in gold by midsummer. I was able to square my account with Wandley, an’ I had a nice little nest egg to keep me goin’.
“One day, lookin’ for new pockets, I slipped down into the ravine an’ begins to follow it up. I kept movin’ westward an’ after a while I reached the end an’ saw that big crevice in the rock. Bein’ kind o’ curious, I walked through an’ came out into the pass.”
The gloomy face of the big prospector brightened perceptibly. He paused, mumbling to himself. Just then he was living in the past.
“At first, I couldn’t hardly believe what I seen. Here was a big valley in the very heart o’ the mountains. I remembered the ol’ Nitchie yarn about Blind Man’s Pass. I began wonderin’ if this was it. I made up my mind that it wouldn’t do no harm to investigate. I spent two weeks out there an’ finally when I went back to Wandley’s, I had a secret. I knew that ’most everybody would be glad to hear the good news.
“The first man I see at Wandley’s is O’Connell. He’s been busy all summer freightin’ supplies. I guess he’d about cornered ever’ available pack-horse in the country. Him an’ Hart, ’count o’ the bad condition of the trails, wasn’t makin’ very good headway. O’Connell tells me he has thousands o’ pounds to take out, an’ no way to do it. He has a big shipment ready to send ’round to the coast but don’t durst tackle it.
“‘Which way yuh going?’ I asks.
“‘Yellowhead Pass,’ he answers.
“‘Kind o’ long trip,’ I says.
“‘Yeh, it sure is,’ O’Connell shoot back. ‘An’ I dread it. The trails down that way is mighty near impassable.’