more. I've never forgot what Uncle Pete told me just afore he died. A
mighty smart man was Uncle Pete, an' he had my future in mind. Don't you
think so, young William?"

"Of course," replied Will, looking at him in wonder and admiration. "I
don't think a man of your cheerful and patient temperament could
possibly fail."

"And maybe his reward will come much sooner than he thinks," said the
hunter, glancing at the lad.

Will understood what Boyd meant, and he was much taken with the idea.
The Little Giant seemed to be sent by Providence, but he said nothing,
waiting until such time as the hunter thought fit to broach the subject.

"How long have you been here?" asked the Little Giant, looking at the
valley with approving eyes.

"Quite a little while," replied Boyd. "It belonged to us two until a few
minutes ago, but now it belongs to us three. We've been needing a third
man badly, and while I didn't know it, you must have been in my mind
all the time."

"An' what do you happen to need me fur, Jim Boyd?"

"We'll let that wait awhile, at least, until we introduce you to our
home."

"All right. Patience is my strong suit. Do you mean to say you've got a
home here?"

"Certainly."

"Then I'll be your guest until you take me into the pardnership you're
talkin' 'bout. Do you know that you two are the first faces o' human
bein's that I've seen in two months, an' it gives me a kind o' pleasure
to look at you, Jim Boyd, an' young William."

"Come on then to our camp."

He whistled to his two mules, strong, patient animals, and then he
whistled on his own account the gayest and most extraordinary variation
that Will had ever heard, a medley of airs, clear, pure and birdlike,
that would have made the feet of any young man dance to the music. It
expressed cheerfulness, hope and the sheer joy of living.

"You could go on the stage and earn fine pay with that whistling of
yours," said Will, when he finished.

"Others have told me so, too," said the Little Giant, "but I'll never do
it. Do you think I'd forget what Uncle Pete said to me on his dyin' bed,
an' get out o' patience? What's a matter o' twenty or thirty years? I'll
keep on lookin' an' in the end I'll find plenty o' gold as a matter o'
course. Then I won't have to whistle fur a livin'. I'll hire others to
whistle fur me."

"He's got another accomplishment, Will, one that he never brags about,"
said the hunter.

"What is it?"

"I told you once that I was