I saw he was wondering if I were worth risking the truth upon.
"Did he fight it out with himself?" I asked carelessly.
"Yes," said the boy, and I now met a fine straight pair of eyes....
There was an old sharp wedge to the story. Dreve's sweetheart had died—the loss twisting him to the point almost of insanity. He had climbed this mountain, it was said, and remained for three days, until the town began to search. The marshal had found him sitting up there, where the shack is now. Dreve was quiet and normal, but confessed himself hungry. He had returned to the mountain soon afterward, and built his cabin. In six months, Dreve was all changed over. He seemed to have a new body and new mind.
"You said he's here four days a week," I suggested.
"Yes, he goes to the city. He has a good business, but has mastered it to the point that several younger men can run it. Dreve only gives two or three days a week to business affairs, though he has been a great worker——"
"He's up there now?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Does he mind strangers?"