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Updated: June 13, 2025
"If you fellows is prospectin', Jeffery Neilson is a first-class man to stay away from and his understrapers, too Ray Brent and Chan Heminway. But they're out of town right now. They skinned out all in a bunch a few weeks ago and I can't tell you what kind of a scent they got." Ezram felt cold to the marrow of his bones.
One night, when the moon was in the sky, he told her of his war record, of the shell-shock and the strange, criminal mania that followed it; and then of his swift recovery. With an over-powering need of self-justification he told her of his further adventures with Ezram, of the old man's murder and the theft of the claim.
To-night the same moon that, a thousand miles to the south, was lighting the way for Ben and Ezram on their northern journey, shone on her as she hastened down the long, shadowed street toward her father's shack, revealing her forest parentage for all to see. The quality could be discerned in her very carriage swift and graceful and silent vaguely suggesting that of the wild creatures themselves.
Softly, rather regretfully, they pushed up and made landing on the banks of a small stream, tributary to the great river, that marked the end of the water route. This stream, Ezram knew, was Poor Man's Creek, the stream of which his brother had written and which they must ascend to reach Spruce Pass.
Ben felt that he would have liked to take a day off at this point and venture with his companion into the high, wooded hills that fronted the town, but he agreed with Ezram that they could not spare the time. They swiftly made preparations for their journey down-river.
And I'll say right here you wasn't born to be no gangman in a big city like Seattle. You'll find that isn't your line at all." "I'm willing to take your word for that, Mr. Melville," Ben interposed quietly. "And I might say, now a good time as any, to let up on the 'Mister. My name is Ezra Melville, and I've been known as 'Ezram' as long as I can remember, to my friends.
I'll make a pack for my back that I can't feel. Then you strike off into town." Without especial enthusiasm Ben agreed. Ezram gave a great sigh of satisfaction. He had put through the deal: Ben's secret thought was that Ezram's curiosity always a pronounced trait with the old had mastered him, and he could not wait longer to explore the mine.
The sparkle in the air was not new, only recalled: long and long ago he had wakened to find just such a delicate fragrance in his nostrils. But the key hadn't come to him yet. His memory pictures were ever stronger of outline, clearer in his mind's eye, yet they were still too dim for him to interpret them. In these days Ezram watched him closely, with a curious, intense interest.
But the gray lips were setting with death, and could not answer. Ben had forgotten for the instant; he must keep better hold of himself. The time was not ripe to turn himself loose. But he did wish for one more word with Ezram, just a few little minutes of planning. They could doubtless work out something good together. They could decide what to do.
The strong dark eyes in the lean, raw-boned face reassured him as to this knowledge. Ben would go too, if he knew the truth. Likely he would insist on going alone. Ezram had decided the whole thing in a flash, realizing that a lone pedestrian would be practically as effective in dealing with the usurpers as two horsemen, impeded by the pack animals.
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