en now. They scarcely knew how long they sat there thinking. Time
passes swiftly when thoughts are cheerful, or are only tinged with the
soft melancholy of a brief separation. Memory is man's greatest friend
and worst enemy.

At last the old man continued: "I saw the thing grew on him. He was not
sulky, but he stare much in the fire at night. In the daytime he was
differen'. A hunter thinks only of his sport. Gawdor watched him.
Gordineer's hand was steady; his nerve was all right. I have seen him
stand still till a grizzly come within twice the length of his gun. Then
he would twist his mouth, and fire into the mortal spot. Once we were
out in the Wide Wing pass. We had never had such a day. Gordineer make
grand shots, better than my own; and men have said I can shoot like
the devil--ha! ha!" He chuckled to himself noiselessly, and said in a
whisper "Twenty grizzlies, and fifty pumas!"

Then he rubbed his hands softly on his knees, and spoke aloud again:
"Ici, I was proud of him. We were standing together on a ledge of rock.
Gawdor was not far away. Gawdor was a poor hunter, and I knew he was
wild at Gordineer's great luck.... A splendid bull-wapiti come out on
a rock across the gully. It was a long shot. I did not think Gordineer
could make it; I was not sure that I could--the wind was blowing and the
range was long. But he draw up his gun like lightning, and fire all at
once. The bull dropped clean over the cliff, and tumbled dead upon the
rocks below. It was fine. But, then, Gordineer slung his gun under his
arm, and say: 'That is enough. I am going to the hut.'

"He went away. That night he did not talk. The next morning, when I say,
'We will be off again to the pass,' he shake his head. He would not go.
He would shoot no more, he said. I understood: it was the girl. He was
wide awake at last. Gawdor understanded also. He know that Gordineer
would go to the south--to her.

"I was sorry; but it was no use. Gawdor went with me to the pass. When
we come back, Jo was gone. On a bit of birch-bark he had put where he
was going, and the way he would take. He said he would come back to
me--ah, the brave comrade! Gawdor say nothing, but his looks were black.
I had a feeling. I sat up all night, smoking. I was not afraid, but I
know Gawdor had found the valley of gold, and he might put a knife in
me, because to know of such a thing alone is fine. Just at dawn, he got
up and go out. He did not come back.

"I waited, and