e."

The doctor had no sympathy with any gold find at that moment, and
presently he looked round at his prisoner. The man's indifference
almost staggered him. He chewed his wad of tobacco viciously. At that
moment he hated himself, he hated Jim, he hated everybody--but most of
all he hated Smallbones.

After a while he spoke, and though his manner was sharp he meant
kindly--

"You ain't told what, I'm guessin', you could tell, Jim," he said.
Then he added significantly, "We've nigh a mile to go."

But Jim was gazing out at the great arc of rosy light growing in the
eastern sky, and the doctor stirred impatiently. At last the condemned
man turned to him with a grave smile--

"Guess there's nothing so beautiful in nature as a perfect summer
dawn," he said. "It makes a man feel strong, and--good. I'm glad it's
dawn," he added, with a sigh.

The doctor spat out his tobacco, and his lean hands clenched tight on
the reins.

"Maybe it makes you fool-headed, too."

"Maybe it does," Jim agreed, thoughtfully. "Maybe it's good to be
fool-headed once in a while. The fool's generally a happy man." Then
his eyes looked away in the direction of Peter's cutting. "And
happiness, like Peter's gold, takes a heap of finding," he continued a
moment later. "Guess the wiser you are the harder things hit you. And
as you grow older it's so easy to be wise, and so hard to be
fool-headed. That bluff we're riding to. Maybe it's foolish me riding
to it. That's what you're thinking--because you're wise. It makes me
glad I'm fool-headed."

The doctor unnecessarily slashed the horses with his whip. But he was
careful not to increase the pace.

Jim went on after a moment's pause, while he watched the hawk-like
mould of his companion's profile.

"Peter's a good friend," he said. "Last night, if I'd said the word,
he'd have fought for me. He'd have fought for me till the boys shot
him down in his tracks. And he'd have thought no more of giving his
life for me than--than Smallbones would think of taking mine. And
some of the gold he's looking for would--have come his way."

The doctor looked round sharply. He began to wonder if Jim were
getting light-headed.

"You're talkin' foolish," he said.

But the other shook his head.

"You see, I don't guess you know Peter as I do--now. I didn't quite
know him--before. I do now. Life's so mighty full of--well, the things
we don't want, that it's well to get out and look for something that
don'