“So I imagined.  But, then, I fergive ye, fer I was young once meself, an’ in love, too, so I know all the signs.  I only wanted to know when ye expect to hit the trail on yer great adventure?”

“To-morrow,” was the emphatic reply.  “This place won’t keep me an hour longer than I can help.  I am sick of it.”

“How d’ye expect to travel?”

“On foot, of course; straight over the mountains.”

“D’ye realise the dangers?”

“Dangers are nothing to me; I am used to them.”

“But s’pose I should tell ye it’s impossible to git behind the Golden Crest?”

“Then, I like to do the impossible.  There are plenty to do the ordinary things.  I want to do the extraordinary, the so-called impossible.  Did you ever hear the song that the Panama Canal diggers used to sing to cheer them up?”

“No; what is it?”

“I only know four lines; they go this way: 

  “’Got any rivers they say are uncrossable? 
  Got any mountains you can’t tunnel through? 
  We specialize on the wholly impossible,
  Doing the things that no man can do.’

“I like those words, and they have heartened me more than once.”

“They’re sartinly stirrin’, an’ I like the spirit of ’em,” the prospector replied.  “But it seems to me that ye’ve got to use common sense as well as spirit.  Now reason tells me that ye need someone to help ye in this undertakin’ of yours, an’ why shouldn’t that someone be me?”

“You!  Could you help me?” Reynolds eagerly asked.  “Will you go with me?”

“I might on a sartin condition.”

“And what is that?”

“Nuthin’ much, ’cept you’ll go with me.”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

“That’s jist the pint about which I ain’t sure.  Though you’ve got the feet of a man, yit from what I gather yer heart an’ yer head have eagle’s wings, which’ll make ye impatient to foller an old feller like me, who ain’t as spry as he once was, an’ whose jints are somewhat stiff.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” Reynolds laughingly told him.  “I hope I have a little sense left yet, although it’s quite true what you say about my heart and my head having eagle’s wings.  You lead on and I’ll follow like a dog.”

“Now, look here, young man, thar’s something else I want to put to ye.  ‘Twixt two things, one sartin an’ t’other unsartin, which will ye choose?”

“I do not understand.  Explain what you mean.”

“Wall, ye see, it’s this way:  The findin’ that gal on which ye’ve set yer heart is a mighty unsartin proposition.  But thar’s another which is as sure as the sun, an’ about which all the men here in camp, an’ the hull world fer that matter, would go crazy over if they knew about it.”

“What is it?’

“It’s gold; that’s what it is, an’ plenty of it, too.”

“Where?” Reynolds’ eyes were big with excitement.