For a moment Duggan was silent.  Then he exploded with a sudden curse.  “Sorry!  What the devil you sorry for, Johnny?  You treated her square, an’ you left her almost all of Conniston’s money.  She ain’t no kick comin’, and she ain’t no reason for feelin’ like she does.  Let ’er go to the devil, I say.  She’s pretty an’ sweet an’ all that—­but when anybody wants to go clawin’ your heart out, don’t be fool enough to feel sorry about it.  You lied to her, but what’s that?  There’s bigger lies than yourn been told, Johnny, a whole sight bigger!  Don’t you go worryin’.  I’ve been here waitin’ six weeks, an’ I’ve done a lot of thinkin’, and all our plans are set an’ hatched.  An’ I’ve got the nicest cabin all built and waitin’ for us up the Little Fork.  Here we are.  Let’s be joyful, son!” He laughed into Keith’s tense, gray face.  “Let’s be joyful!”

Keith forced a grin.  Duggan didn’t know.  He hadn’t guessed what that “little tiger who would have liked to have bit open his throat” had been to him.  The thick-headed old hero, loyal to the bottom of his soul, hadn’t guessed.  And it came to Keith then that he would never tell him.  He would keep that secret.  He would bury it in his burned-out soul, and he would be “joyful” if he could.  Duggan’s blazing, happy face, half buried in its great beard, was like the inspiration and cheer of a sun rising on a dark world.  He was not alone.  Duggan, the old Duggan of years ago, the Duggan who had planned and dreamed with him, his best friend, was with him now, and the light came back into his face as he looked toward the mountains.  Off there, only a few miles distant, was the Little Fork, winding into the heart of the Rockies, seeking out its hidden valleys, its trailless canons, its hidden mysteries.  Life lay ahead of him, life with its thrill and adventure, and at his side was the friend of all friends to seek it with him.  He thrust out his hands.

“God bless you, Andy,” he cried.  “You’re the gamest pal that ever lived!”

A moment later Duggan pointed to a clump of timber half a mile ahead.  “It’s past dinner-time,” he said.  “There’s wood.  If you’ve got any bacon aboard, I move we eat.”

An hour later Andy was demonstrating that his appetite was as voracious as ever.  Before describing more of his own activities, he insisted that Keith recite his adventures from the night “he killed that old skunk, Kirkstone.”

It was two o’clock when they resumed their journey.  An hour later they struck the Little Fork and until seven traveled up the stream.  They were deep in the lap of the mountains when they camped for the night.  After supper, smoking his pipe, Duggan stretched himself out comfortably with his back to a tree.

“Good thing you come along when you did, Johnny,” he said.  “I been waitin’ in that valley ten days, an’ the eats was about gone when you hove in sight.  Meant to hike back to the cabin for supplies tomorrow or next day.  Gawd, ain’t this the life!  An’ we’re goin’ to find gold, Johnny, we’re goin’ to find it!”