Montana."

"And Peter disposed of his stock that way--all by himself?" he asked,
returning to his seat upon the boulder.

"All by himself," the girl repeated, again wondering at the drift of his
questions. "My help only extended as far as this place. Peter used to
fatten his stock right here and then run them down into Montana. Down
there no one knew where he came from, and so wonderfully is this place
hidden that he was never traced. There is only one approach to it, and
that's across the keg. In winter that can be crossed anywhere, but no
sane persons would trust themselves in the foothills at that time of
year. For the rest it can only be crossed by the secret path. This
valley is a perfectly-hidden natural road for illicit traffic."

"Wonderful." The man permitted a smile to spread over his thin, eagle
face. "Peter's supposed to have made a pile of money."

"Yes, I guess Peter sunk a pile of dollars. He hid his bills right here
in the valley," Jacky replied, smiling back into the indolent face
before her. Then her face became serious again. "The secret of its
hiding-place died with him--it's buried deep down in the reeking keg."

"And you're sure he died in the 'reeking keg'?" There was a sharp
intonation in the question. The matter seemed to be of importance in the
story.

Jacky half started at the eagerness with which the question was put. She
paused for an instant before replying.

"I believe he died there," she said at length, like one weighing her
words well, "but it was never clearly proved. Most people think that he
simply cleared out of the country. I picked up his hat close beside the
path, and the crust of the keg had been broken. Yes, I believe he died
in the muskeg. Had he lived I should have known."

"But how comes it that Golden Eagle is still alive? Surely Peter would
never have crossed the keg on foot"

The girl looked perplexed for a moment. But her conviction was plainly
evident.

"No--he wouldn't have walked. Peter drank some."

"I see."

"Once I saved him from taking the wrong track at the point where the
path forks. He'd been drinking then. Yes," with a quiet assurance, "I
think he died in the keg."

Her companion seemed to have come to the end of his cross-examination.
He suddenly rose from his seat. The chattering of the ducks in the
distance caused him to turn his head. Then he turned again to the girl
before him. The indolence had gone from his eyes. His face was set, and
t