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Updated: June 13, 2025
Ezram made his decision entirely casually, and he would have been surprised out of his wits if any one had expressed wonder of it. He knew no self-pity or sentimentality, only the knowledge that he did not desire that his young buddy should be shot full of holes in the first moment of play. The only fear that had visited him was that Ben might catch on and not let him go.
With Ben's death the claim, a fourth of which had been his motive when he had slain Ezram, would pass entirely to him, except for such share as he would have to give Chan. His star of fortune was in the sky. It was his moment of glory, long-awaited but enrapturing him at last. Neilson lay seriously wounded, perhaps dead by now.
To a long, tough rod cut on the river bank he attached thirty feet of cheap, white cord, and to the cord he fastened a bright spoon hook the spinner that salmon fishers know. He had no leader, no reel, no delicately balanced salmon rod and Ezram was full of scorn for the whole proceeding. And it was certainly true that, by all the rules of angling, Ben had no chance whatever to get a bite.
And Ezram, watching high and afar, and with infinite serenity knowing at last the true balance of all things one with another, gave him his full forgiveness. The girl began to strip the wet clothes from his injured body. The trail was long and steep into Back There for Jeffery Neilson and his men.
"I'm gettin' as much pleasure out of it as you." His voice sank again; and there was no line of mirth in his face. "It was long ago, in Montreal," Ezram went on, after a pause. "I knew your mother, as a girl. She married a better man, but I told her that every wish of hers was law to me. You're her son."
You're just as excited at the close as at the beginning. Ezram, old man, it's life!" Ezram nodded. Perhaps, in the moment's fire, Ben had touched at the truth. Perhaps life, in its fullest sense, is something more than being born, breathing air, consuming food, and moving the lips in speech.
He knew its every mood: ecstasy in spring; gentleness in summer; brooding melancholy in the gray days of fall; remorseless, savage, but unspeakably beautiful in the winter. He felt his old pity for the spring flowers, blossoming so hopefully in this gentle season. How soon they would be covered with many feet of snow! "It's all come clear again," he told Ezram.
He confined his riding horse with a picket rope; the others he turned loose. Then he cooked a simple meal for himself and the gaunt servant at his heels. When the night had come down in full, and as he sat about the glowing coals of his supper fire, he had time to devote serious thought to the fate of Ezram.
I can't help but feel sorry that you had to undergo this so that I could reach your father and his men. If you had seen old Ezram lying there the life gone from, his kind, gray old face the man who brought me home and gave me my one chance maybe you'd understand." They were speechless a long time, Beatrice watching the swift leap of the shore line, Ben guiding, with steady hand, the canoe.
Ben had written: TO NEILSON AND HIS GANG: When you get this, Beatrice will be on her way to Back There either there or on her way to hell. Ezra Melville was my pard. A letter leaving his claim to me is in my pocket, and I alone know where Hiram's will is, leaving it to Ezram. Your title will never stand as long as those papers aren't destroyed.
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