al the
truth from you, Mr. Mowbray. You are a very sick man. The inflammation
has become general over both lobes of the lung. The walls of the
vessels and the surrounding tissues have lost their vitality; the
vessels are extremely dilated, while exudation and infiltration have
proceeded to an alarming extent. The process of engorgement is
complete."

"Do you consider his condition dangerous, doctor?" said Shock, breaking
in upon the doctor's technical description.

"In a young person the danger would not be so great, but, Mr. Mowbray,
I always tell the truth to my patients. In a man of your age I think
the hope of recovery is very slight indeed."

"Thank you, doctor" said the old man cheerfully. "I knew it long ago,
but I am content that my quest should cease at this point. And now, if
you will give me a few moments of close attention," he said, turning to
Shock, "and if you will see that the privacy of this tent is absolutely
secure, there is little more that I shall require of you."

The doctor stepped to the door.

"Doctor," said the Old Prospector, "I do not wish you to go. It is more
than I hoped, that there should be beside me when I passed out of this
life two men that I can trust, such as yourself and Mr. Macgregor. Sit
down close beside me and listen."

He pulled out from beneath his pillow an oil-skin parcel, which he
opened, discovering a small bag of buckskin tied with a thong.

"Open it," he said to Shock. "Take out the paper." His voice became low
and eager, and his manner bespoke intense excitement.

"My dear friend," said the doctor, "this will be too much for you. You
must be calm."

"Give me something to drink, doctor, something to steady me a bit, for
I must convey to you the secret of my life's quest."

The doctor administered a stimulant, and then, with less excitement,
but with no less eagerness, the old man proceeded with his story.

"Here," he said, pointing with a trembling finger to a line upon the
paper Shock had spread before him, "here is the trail that leads to the
Lost River. At this point we are now camped. Follow the course of this
stream to this point, half a day's journey, not more; turn toward the
east and cross over this low mountain ridge and you come to a valley
that will strike you as one of peculiar formation. It has no apparent
outlet. That valley," said the Old Prospector, lowering his voice to a
whisper, "is the valley of the Lost River. This end," keeping his
tr