t the climax on their misery. Now there was no knowing where they
were. Having no compass, they were hopelessly lost. In clear weather it
was possible to find the right direction by the stars, but the sky,
long-overcast and menacing, vouchsafed no sign. Even if the road could
be found, escape was impossible. Starved and footsore, they were now so
weak that they were scarcely able to drag themselves along. Yet move
they must; to remain in one spot meant to fall down and go to sleep and
perish. They had had nothing to eat for days except snow and some roots
which Bill dug up from under the snow. Once they were attacked by
wolves. Madison shot one of their pursuers with his revolver, and the
rest of the pack turned tail and ran. The dead wolf they ate. They did
not stop to cook it, but devoured it raw, like famished dogs worrying a
bone. It saved their lives for a time, and then the hunger pangs began
again, terrible, incessant.

The freshly stacked fire send clouds of smoke skywards, and its crimson
glow, casting a vivid light on the two men crouching close by, made
their abject figures stand out with startling distinctness against the
gray background of the snow-clad landscape. Madison, who had long been
silent, staring stolidly into the flames, listening absent-mindedly to
his companion's arguments, at last broke in:

"Gold! I'm sick of gold--sick of the very word. I'd give all the gold
there is in the world just to see Laura once again. That's all I'd
ask--to see her just once. Then I'd be willing to die in peace. She has
no idea of this. Do you think they'll ever know? Maybe some one will
find our bodies."

Bill made no answer. He was paying no attention. His mind was too weak
to grasp what was said. He had only one thought--one fixed thought--and
that was--gold. Pointing off in the distance, where a mass of
moss-covered rock rose like some gigantic vessel in an ocean of snow,
he said in a thick, uncertain voice:

"John, my boy, I had a dream last night. I dreamt I tried some of them
high spots yonder. I struck the rock with my pick, and suddenly I was
dazzled. Wet flakes of shining gold stared up at me from the quartz. I
struck again, and there was more gold. I pulled the moss from it, and
everywhere there was gold. I struck right and left, and a perfect
shower of nuggets as big as my head rolled at my feet. Then I woke up."

"Yes," said John sarcastically, "then you woke up."

Bill nodded stupidly.

"I know