Only Demorest began to linger in the rear.  This contact with the stagecoach had again brought him face to face with his buried past.  He felt his old dream revive, and occasionally turned to look back upon the dark outlines of Black Spur, under whose shadow it had returned so often, and wondered if he had left it there forever, and it were now slowly exhaling with the thinned and dying smoke of their burning cabin.

His companions, knowing his silent moods, had preceded him at some distance, when he heard the soft sound of ambling hoofs on the thick dust, and suddenly the light touch of Jack Hamlin’s gauntlet on his shoulder.  The mustang Jack bestrode was reeking with grime and sweat, but Jack himself was as immaculate and fresh as ever.  With a delightful affectation of embarrassment and timidity he began flicking the side buttons of his velvet vaquero trousers with the thong of his riata.  “I reckoned to sling a word along with you before you went,” he said, looking down, “but I’m so shy that I couldn’t do it in company.  So I thought I’d get it off on you while you were alone.”

“We’ve seen you once or twice before, this morning,” said Demorest pleasantly, “and we were sorry you didn’t join us.”

“I reckon I might have,” said Jack gayly, “if my horse had only made up his mind whether he was a bird or a squirrel, and hadn’t been so various and promiscuous about whether he wanted to climb a tree or fly.  He’s not a bad horse for a Mexican plug, only when he thinks there is any devilment around he wants to wade in and take a hand.  However, I reckoned to see the last of you and your pile into Boomville.  And I did.  When I meet three fellows like you that are clean white all through I sort of cotton to ’em, even if I’m a little of a brunette myself.  And I’ve got something to give you.”

He took from a fold of his scarlet sash a small parcel neatly folded in white paper as fresh and spotless as himself.  Holding it in his fingers, he went on:  “I happened to be at Heavy Tree Hill early this morning before sun-up.  In the darkness I struck your cabin, and I reckon—­I struck somebody else!  At first I thought it was one of you chaps down on your knees praying at the rear of the cabin, but the way the fellow lit out when he smelt me coming made me think it wasn’t entirely fasting and prayer.  However, I went to the rear of the cabin, and then I reckoned some kind friend had been bringing you kindlings and firewood for your early breakfast.  But that didn’t satisfy me, so I knelt down as he had knelt, and then I saw—­well, Mr. Demorest, I reckon I saw just what you have seen!  But even then I wasn’t quite satisfied, for that man had been grubbing round as if searching for something.  So I searched too—­and I found it.  I’ve got it here.  I’m going to give it to you, for it may some day come in handy, and you won’t find anything like it among the folks where you’re going.  It’s something unique, as those fine-art-collecting sharps in ’Frisco say—­something quite matchless, unless you try to match it one day yourself!  Don’t open the paper until I run on and say ‘So long’ to your partners.  Good-by.”