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Updated: June 23, 2025
The hills were getting played out. The furs were traveling north, and, in consequence were scarce. Besides, how could he be in Barnriff and the hills at the same time? The position was absurd. Eve must join him and give up her business, and they must make their home up in the hills where she could learn to trap. Or they must live in Barnriff and he must find fresh employment.
He had seen the whiskey bottle sticking out of Jim's coat pocket, and his Barnriff thirst and curiosity were agog, for Jim was at no time a man to waste money in drink. "Say, givin' a party?" he sneered, pointing at the bottle. "Yes, a party to a dead friend," replied Jim, with a wintry smile. "It's inexpensive, less trouble, and there's more for myself. So long."
He walked without hesitation, without any desire to do otherwise, in the direction of his home. But this was an almost mechanical result. His mind was occupied in a way that would have astonished the men of Barnriff. His fury had gone. His brain was filled with cold, hard thoughts, the more cruel for their lack of heat.
Then his mind came back to things of the moment. This gold prospecting interested him more than anything else. "How far are we from Barnriff?" he asked abruptly. "Twenty odd miles west. Why?" "I was kind o' wonderin'. Seems we've been headin' clear thro' fer Barnriff since we started from way back there on the head waters. We sunk nine holes, hain't we?
Anthony Smallbones, familiarly known to his intimates as "fussy-breeches," because he lived in a dream-fever of commercial enterprise, and believed himself to be a Napoleon of finance he ran a store, at which he sold a collection of hardware, books, candy, stationery, notions and "delicatessen" was on his way to the boarding-house for breakfast there was only one boarding-house in Barnriff, and all the bachelors had their meals there.
And I let him sleep right on, an' when he woke to light fires, and start baking, I just give him a real elegant breakfast with cream in his coffee, an' asked him if he'd like a bottle of rye for his head. But say, I never see him shovel coal harder in my life than he did in that coal-box after breakfast. I'd like to gamble he's still shovelin' it." It certainly was a gala day in Barnriff.
Say, if we keep right on we'll hit Barnriff on this line?" "Sure." The man's blue eyes were watching the boy's face interestedly. "You found the color o' gold, an' the ledge o' quartz in each o' them holes, ain't you?" "Yep." "Well, if we keep on, an' we find right along, we're goin' to find some around Barnriff." "Good, laddie," Peter replied, approving his obvious reasoning.
That imp of hell can hate, and it was me he hated, eh? Y'see, I've heard how he tracked me. I hear most things doing in Barnriff. Then you did your fool stunt sending Jim out to warn me. He got me clear, and and I hate him worse for it; but not so bad as I hate you now. I see how it was done. I'm no fool. Jim did it for you, and I guess you'll pay his price. That's how you're both thinking.
And as a consequence of this enthusiasm, there was a surplus of help in getting the meeting-room suitably clad for the occasion, and the preparations for the "sociable" and dance which were to follow the ceremony. Was there ever such a day in Barnriff? the women asked each other. None of them remembered one. Then look at the day itself.
Rocket shrugged and turned to his work of setting some sort of order among his bottles. But, as Jim stood at the window with his back turned, his narrow eyes frequently regarded him and his busy brain speculated as to his humor. The ranchman was well liked in Barnriff, but his present attitude puzzled the worthy host. However, the object of all this attention was wholly unaware of it.
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