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Updated: June 8, 2025
He was a light man on his feet, and he dodged through the forest, running more carelessly the farther he went, visiting first the upper claims, then, making a wide detour of the cabin, he came back to the initial stake of Necia's lower claim, staggering from his exertions, his lungs bursting from the strain.
You say I'm hones'. Wal, I'm hones' now, an' I come to you wit' fair words an' I show my han' to you I don' hoi' out no cards, M'sieu' but I don' t'ink it is you who have play square, altogeder. I'm Necia's frien', an' I'll fight for her jus' so queecker lak' you, but I mus' know dis t'ing for sure, so if you have de good heart an' de courage of good man you'll tell me de truth.
Long time she's gone now." She trailed off into Indian words he could not comprehend, so he pushed past her into the house to see for himself, and without knocking flung Necia's door open and stepped into her chamber. Before he had swept the unfamiliar room with his eyes he knew that she had indeed gone, and gone hurriedly, for the signs of disorder betrayed a reckless haste.
The light of sacrifice was in Necia's eyes, and her cheeks were blanched with the pallor of a great resolution. She did not stop to reason why or how she had been led to this disposal of her future, but clutched desperately at Stark's plan of rescue from her agonizing predicament. "I'll be here in an hour," she said, simply.
So he descended to the exchange of ordinary topics, and inquired for news of the creek. "Necia's ground is getting better every hour," the trader said. "Yesterday they found a sixty-dollar pan." "Have you struck pay on yours?" "No; Poleon and I seem to hold bad hands. Some of his laymen are quitting work. They've cross-cut in half a dozen places and can't find a color."
Doret laid Necia's hand in that of her lover, and Burrell saw her smiling shyly up at him. Something gripped him chokingly, and he could utter no sound. There was nothing to say-she was here, safe, smiling, that was all. And the girl, beholding the glory in his eyes, understood. Gale caught her away from him then, and buried her in his arms.
The craft had just swung past the bend above, and was still a long way off so far away, in fact, that Necia's signal had not reached it, for its occupant held unwaveringly to the swiftest channel, his body rising and falling in the smooth, unending rhythm of a master-boatman tinder great haste, his arms up-flung now and then, as the paddle glinted and flashed across to the opposite side.
Therefore, when darkness came it blotted out what little brightness and light and hope were left to him after Necia's stormy interview with the Lieutenant.
He raised a pair of eyes that had become furious and bloodshot, and suddenly realized that the man before him, who persisted in saddling upon Gale this heinous crime, was the slayer of Necia's mother; for he did not doubt Gale's story for an instant. He found his fingers writhing to feel the creature's throat. "Proof!" Stark was growling. "How much proof do you need?
It was little Johnny Gale who first saw Necia and Poleon on board, for he had recognized Father Barnum's craft at a distance, and stationed himself at the bank hand-in-hand with Molly to bid the good, kind old man welcome. The men inside the house did not hear the boy crying Necia's name, for his voice was small, and they had gone to the rear of the store. "Understand!
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