the still drowsy dog, which took its portion
and curled-up again, after whining softly and licking his hand.

One night all seemed over. No one had been near, and he had felt too
weak and weary to limp to the nearest hut in search of human
companionship. He was alone in his misery and despair. Dallas must be
dead, he felt sure, and there was nothing for him to do now but make
another good meal for himself and the dog, and then sleep.

"Sleep," he said aloud, "and perhaps wake no more."

He ate his hot meal once more and watched the dog take his portion
before going to the door, to look out feebly and find all black,
depressing darkness; not even a star to be seen.

"Night, night, black night!" he muttered as he carefully fastened up
again, pegged the blankets across to keep out the cruel wind, carefully
piled up the pieces of wood about the fire, as an afterthought carried
out with a smile, with a big log that would smoulder far on into the
next day for the sake of the dog.

"For I shall not want it," he said sadly. "Poor brute! What will he do
when I'm dead?"

The thought startled him, and he sat down and fixed his eyes upon the
shaggy, hairy animal curled-up close to the fire, whose flames flickered
and danced and played about, making the hair glisten and throwing the
dog's shadow back in a curious grotesque way.

Something like energy ran in a thrill through the watcher, and he
shuddered and felt that he must do something to prevent _that_--it would
be too horrible.

It was in a nightmare-like state he seemed to see people coming to the
door at last. He could even hear them knocking and shouting, and at
last using hatchets to crash a way in. For what? To find the dog there
alive and stronger, ready to resent their coming, even to fighting and
driving them away; but only to return, rifle or pistol armed, to destroy
the brute for what it had done according to its nature, to keep itself
alive.

And then, it seemed to Abel, in his waking dream, they shudderingly
gathered together what they saw to cast into the ready-dug grave--the
shaft in which he and Dallas had so laboriously but hopefully delved, in
search of the magnet which had drawn them there--the gold.

He made a wild effort to drive away the horrible fancy, and at last with
a weary sigh sank upon his bed, his last thought being:

"Would those at home ever know the whole truth?"

"How long have I been awake?"

It must have been one long st