here in
the States; he never said just what he owed, but he had to have the money.
And, my, when he was doing the bulk of the work, I couldn't say much. It
was so the next time and the next. We never could keep a claim long enough
for the real clean-up. So, when I learned to use my hand, I cut loose to
try it alone."

He halted again, but she waited in silence with her face turned to the
harbor. "I drifted into the Iditarod country," he went on, "and was among
the first to make a strike. It was the luckiest move I ever made, but I
wish now I had stayed by Dave. I was only a few hundred miles away, but I
never thought of his needing me. That was the trouble. He was always
putting some other man on his feet, cheering the rest along, but not one
of us ever thought of offering help to Dave Weatherbee. A fine,
independent fellow like him.

"But I sure missed him," he said. "Many a time there in the Iditarod I
used to get to wishing we had that voice of his to take the edge off of
things. Why, back on the Tanana I've seen it keep a whole camp heartened;
and after he picked me up in that blizzard, when I was most done for and
couldn't sleep, it seemed like his singing about kept me alive. Sometimes
still nights I can hear those tunes yet. He knew a lot of 'em, but there
was _Carry Me Back to Old Virginny_, and _Heart Bowed Down_, and _You'll
Remember Me_. I always thought that song reminded him of some girl down
here in the States. He never told me so, always put me off if I said a
word, and none of us knew he was married then; but when he got to singing
that tune, somehow he seemed to forget us boys and the camp and
everything, and went trailing off after his voice, looking for somebody
clear out of sight. I know now, since I've seen you, I was likely right."

Still she was silent. But she moved a little and lifted her hand to the
edge of the Satsuma jardiniere; her fingers closed on it in a tightening
grip; she held her head high, but the lashes drooped over her eyes.
Watching her, the miner's seamed face worked. After a moment he said: "The
other night I paid seven dollars for a seat at the Metropolitan just to
hear one of those first-class singers try that song. The scenery was all
right. There were the boys and two or three women sitting around a
camp-fire. And the fiddles got the tune fine, but my, my! I couldn't
understand a word. Seemed like that fellow was talking darn Dago."

At this she lifted her eyes. The shad