GREEN GOLD
“A long, long trail.” The old man’s words echoed in Johnny’s ears as half
an hour later, he sat before the fire of great glowing logs. Chilled by
the cold and the dark, warmed by the golden glow of human companionship,
he sat there half asleep, when the girl spoke.
Strangely enough, her words echoed his thoughts.
“A long, long trail,” she was saying in a tone that was resonant with
mystery and longing.
“He has come upon something,” she said after a moment of silence, “from
out his past.” She turned to nod at the rude brush shelter beneath which,
deep in his sleeping bag, the old man slumbered. Worn out by excitement
and his sudden heart attack, he had yielded to his granddaughter’s
entreaties, and retired early.
As for the girl and the boy, nothing was further from their thought than
sleep. They had come to a valley of decision. This they knew.
“He will go,” the girl said, glancing again at the sleeping one. “That
trail has to do with his past. More than twenty years ago, with a partner
called Timmie, he went into these mountains prospecting. I know little
enough about it. What I know my mother told me. She’s dead now; been dead
eight years. He is all I have, and I am his only grandchild.”
Once more, save for the little circle of light sent out by the campfire,
all was darkness. Save for the snap and crack of burning logs, all was
silence.
A light wind stirred the branches of the giant pine beneath which they
had camped. As if endeavoring to tell the secret of the hunting knife
buried deep in its heart, it sighed and whispered with the breeze.
“He came back once, my mother told me,” the girl went on at last. “It was
a whole year later. Someone found him wandering in the forest. He was
snow-blind and delirious. In the long weeks of sickness that followed he
babbled of Timmie, of a mine of green gold, and of a knife driven into a
tree.
“That,” she said, pointing to the giant pine, “is the tree. It must be.
And that is the knife.”
“But what of Timmie? What of green gold?” Johnny’s voice was low.
“I don’t know. I only know,” she said slowly, “that he will go all the
way over that long, long trail. It is his last great adventure. He may
not live to complete it. There is his heart. He may—”
She became silent. Cupping her chin in her hands, she stared at the fire.
“Do you know,” she said at last, without changing her position, “our home
is a wonderful place. It’s only a cottage. But a cottage may be quite
wonderful. In summer vines grow all over it, and old fashioned roses
bloom by its side. The song sparrow, quite unafraid, builds her nest in
the vines and squirrels come from the woods to sit on our doorstep. It’s
home.”
She repeated the word softly, “Home. Nothing in the world could be more
wonderful than a home.”
Again silence, and the night closed in upon them.
“You are thinking,” said the girl at last.
“I was thinking of you and of your grandfather.”
“Grandfather is well worthy of your thoughts. He gave his two sons to his
country. The war, that terrible war! They never came back. One was my
father. I—I think my mother died of grief. But Grandfather, he just
carried on.”
Yes, Johnny believed Gordon Duncan worthy of his thoughts. For the
moment, however, he was thinking of the girl, following her in his mind’s
eye over that long, long trail marked out on Gordon Duncan’s map; saw her
making her way forward staunchly, fearlessly into the great unknown with
an old man as her only companion.
“And then death overtakes her grandfather,” he whispered to himself.
He tried to picture her making her way alone, back over those endless
perilous miles.
“It can’t be done,” he told himself again.
A sudden resolve brought him sitting bolt upright.
“That green gold interests me,” he said in as quiet a tone as he could
command.
“You don’t believe there is such a thing?”
He read incredulity in the girl’s words.
“Stranger things have been discovered.”
Of a sudden the meaning of his words came to her.
“You will go with us?”
Her hand was on his arm, her eyes searching his face.
“I have nothing more worth while to do.”
“Oh!” she breathed, and again, “Oh!” He felt the pressure of her hand on
his arm, that was all.
For a long time after that there was silence.
The next day they took up that long, long trail, and the day following
saw one member of the party very near to the end of all trails.