He was thinking of her now. He was thinking of his visit to her home that very noonday, the first of his arrival upon the river. As he sat over the fire silently contemplating the depth of its ruddy heart with calm unsmiling eyes, a passionate desire was stirring within him. Since the moment of return to his camp on the gravel flats, with the picture of that happy, unkempt home full of sturdy young life haunting him, he had been concerned only for the sweet, blue, smiling eyes of the girl of the northern wild.
He had heard the story of the courageous mother. He had heard the girl’s story from her own pretty lips as they had walked, to the bank of the river where he had left his canoe moored. And he had been filled with only the greater admiration for the simple strength and courage with which these devoted souls had embarked upon their tremendous struggle for existence.
At last he knocked out his charred pipe and thrust it away into a pocket. Again his hands were outspread to the blaze, but now his eyes were directed to the red-headed creature beyond the fire. Wilder suddenly cleared his throat. He began to speak, addressing himself to the Irishman. And Chilcoot looked round from his contemplation of the fire.
“You boys best listen awhile while I make a talk.” Wilder’s manner was quiet enough, but there was that in his tone which impressed his companions. “You’ve maybe both got a grouch on me. And I’ll admit I’d feel the same if I were you. You’re both of you guessing all sorts of bad med’cine about that business back there in the hills. You’re reckoning I got visions I haven’t figured to pass on to you. Well, I sort of feel like clearing things up some—I mean that old grouch.”
His eyes began to smile and he turned to the older man beside him and shook his head.
“No,” he went on, “I’m not going to say a word about that night I passed in that darn place. I’m just going to ask you boys to sort of forget it, and forget your grouch. You just got to trust me same as you’ve done right along, and maybe later, I’ll be able to hand you the story as I know it. You, Chilcoot, know me, and I guess you’ll act that way without a kick. It’ll be harder for Mike, who hasn’t worked with me the years you have. Still, maybe I can make it easy even for him.”