"Bugs!" replied the captain. "You tell him he owes us a drink, and as a
particular favor to me, please not to put his frames over four foot apart
in that ground.

"We're likely to be back here shortly, anyhow, because I think your
friend has got hold of the right idea from what you tell me of his plans;
but it'll take more'n one man to really prospect it. If we don't hit it
where we're going, we'll sure come back."

"Well, boys, _I_ can thank you and I'm going to," said Bud. "That man is
my friend, and if you hadn't come as you did--"

"Say, let go," interrupted the captain. "You'd have done the same thing
if you'd been us, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," admitted Bud reluctantly.

"And you wouldn't want to be thanked for it a white chip more'n we do,"
concluded the captain. "If there's any thanks coming it is to that little
two-foot chunk of man yonder. Snaking over that fall was a thing to put a
crimp in anybody. You was bound to help your pardner, wasn't you, son?"

The boy looked up into the captain's eagle face. "I'd 'er got to Jim," he
answered simply, "'f I'd had ter chew me way in like a rat."

The captain stepped back and looked at him.

"By the Lord!" he said slowly, "I believe you would!" A change came over
the thin, arrogant face. He stooped suddenly, raised the boy and kissed
him. "Now, get out o' this!" he roared at the driver, as he leaped into
the wagon.

They waved their hands as long as the miners were in sight, and stood
staring until Pete's statement that they'd all be angels by-and-by was
lost in the distance.

"Pretty good folks when you're in trouble, ain't they, Ches?" said Bud.

"What 'ud we have done, if dey hadn't come?--Ain't it 'mos' time Jim was
moving, Bud?"

"I'll give him another spoonful of whisky, but you can't expect him to
start right up and hop around. He got an awful crack, boy."

For all that, as the dose of strong liquor went down Jim's throat, he
opened his eyes.

"Hello, Bud! Hello, Ches!" he said wonderingly. "Have I been
asleep?--Why, what the devil's the matter with my head?" he raised his
hand to the spruce-gum bandage. "Phew! But I feel weak!" he sighed as his
hand dropped. "Something's happened--what is it?"

There, with a friend on each side holding a hand, they told him the
story. It was a sacred reunion.

The gratitude of the man saved, and the protestations of the others that
they would have done all they did a thousand times again would only seem
child