ed him to
the nearest point on the stage road, and breathed thanks that he was
alone again, and could go back to his plan of digging a nice little
hunch of cattle out of that bank before snow flew.

CHAPTER IX

WHEN EMOTIONS ARE BOTTLED

One day, when the sun was warm and the breeze that filtered down the
gorge was pleasantly cool, Ward straightened his aching back, waded out
to dry ground, and sat down to rest a few minutes and make a smoke.
His interest in the work had oozed steadily since sunrise, and left
nothing but the back-breaking toil. He had found a nugget the size of
a hazelnut in the second pan that morning, so it was not discouragement
that had made his monotonous movements grow slow and reluctant. Until
he had smoked half the cigarette, he himself did not know what it was
that ailed him. Then he flung up his head quite suddenly and gave a
snort of understanding.

"Hang the gold! I'm going visiting for a change."

He concealed the goldpan and his pick, shovel, and sacks in the clump
of service berries and chokeberries that grew at the foot of the ledge
and hid from view the bank where he dug out his pay dirt. That did not
take more than two or three minutes, and he made them up after he had
swung into the saddle on the farther hillside. It was not a good
trail, and except for his first exultant ride home that way, he had
ridden it at a walk. Now he made Rattler trot where loping was too
risky; and so he came clattering down the steep trail into the little
flat beside his cabin. He would have something to eat, and feed
Rattler a little hay, and then ride on to the Wolverine. And now that
he had yielded to his hunger to see the one person in the world for
whom he felt any tenderness, he grudged every minute that separated him
from her. He loosened the cinch with one or two yanks and left the
saddle on Rattler, to save time. He turned him loose in the hay corral
with the bridle off, rather than spend the extra minutes it would take
to put him in a stall and carry him a forkful of hay. He thought he
would not bother to start a fire and boil coffee; he would eat the
sour-dough bread and fried rabbit hams he had taken with him for lunch,
and he would start down the creek in half an hour. He imagined himself
an extremely sensible young man and considerate of his horse's comfort,
to give him thirty precious minutes in which to eat hay. It was not
absolutely necessary; Rattler could travel