oo ill to go further. I
built this shelter to die in, and from time to time I crawled out for
fuel to keep up the fire. But the end is close now. Don't leave me--let
me die with white faces round me."

"Cheer up, my friend," said Captain Rudstone. "You are going to live."

"We have a deer yonder," I added. "We will make you a venison broth, and
then take you to the fort, where the rest of our party await us."

But Carteret, who had the keener eye, shook his head gravely.

"It is no use," he whispered.

The old man heard him.

"Ay, you are right," he said. "I am past help. I feel death stealing
over me. Months of privation have worn out my rugged frame--this
frightful wilderness has drained my life blood. Comrades, I have
journeyed on foot from the far province of Alaska."

Carteret shrugged his shoulders, and the captain and I exchanged
incredulous glances. Doubtless the stranger's mind was wandering.

"You think me mad," he said hoarsely. "But no; I will prove otherwise.
Listen to my story. It is the last service you can do me, and you will
find it well worth hearing."

His manner was so earnest that we began to believe a little in spite of
ourselves. We crouched on the blanket alongside of him, and in a voice
that was barely audible--he was failing fast--the old man proceeded. The
earlier part of his narrative, which was the least interesting, I will
set down briefly in my own words.

His name was Hiram Buckhorn, and he was now sixty odd years of age. Half
of his life had been passed in New York State and the Lower Canadas, and
then he had gone across the continent to San Francisco. From that port
he sailed with a dozen adventurous companions two years previously to
explore the almost unknown territory of Alaska and prospect for gold.
They sailed hundreds of miles up the mighty Yukon, and when their vessel
was wrecked they journeyed some days inland on foot.

"And we found what we sought," he continued, with sparkling
eyes--"riches such as were never dreamed of! Gold? Why, men, it was as
plentiful as the sand and gravel! The streams were paved with nuggets;
it was everywhere under the soil! Our camp was near a tributary of the
Yukon, and within a square mile was gold enough to purchase a dozen
empires; but many a year will pass before men lay hands on the treasure.
It is a terrible country--almost impossible to reach, and there is
scarcely any summer season. And then the savage Indians! They fell upon
us