“Is there not an archway of white stone,” I said suddenly, “opening
into a big space where there are trees and walks? Perhaps your son went
under that arch.”
The old gentleman started and stared at me.
“You told me you had passed all your life out here!” he exclaimed.
“My father brought me out from London as a baby,” I said, wondering at
my own late words.
After an interval of silence, the old gentleman spoke, and explained
for me.
“Your nurse would have taken you through the Park every day, I daresay,
and often out at Hyde Park Corner. That is the archway which you
remember. You must have seen it with your baby eyes, and your brain
still retains the impression.”
Another night I ventured to ask him how his claim had worked before the
coming of the close season, and the question made him sad.
“No good,” he said, in his quiet voice. “It is a hill claim, and such
are hard to work. I have found next to nothing.”
Before leaving Hanafin City, I went to the Record Office, paid the fee
of two dollars, and registered an assignment of my grant permitting
me to mine upon Number One MacCaskill. The following day I paid the
required fee of fifteen dollars, and took out a new grant made in
favour of Alexander Pearson, the good old English gentleman, whose only
fault was his too great affection for a worthless son. I sent this
little present by Akshelah, who gave it into his hands, and then came
away, as I had instructed her, and we left Hanafin City at once. I
believe there was a good deal of coarse gold left in that claim. I hope
there was.
On that last night I went to bid farewell to MacCaskill, with whom I
had not spoken since Christmas. He had come out with me as my partner,
and I could not go away without bidding him good-bye. It was not
difficult to find him, but when I came out of the drinking saloon
into the gambling division, and discovered him, I did not carry out
my intention. He was drunk, not with liquor, but with the fever and
passion of gambling, and he was watching the faro cards with the wild
stare of a hungry beast. I did speak to him once, but he took no heed;
I ventured to touch his arm, but he only looked ahead, and howled “Lost
again!” and pulled out more gold. He had not noticed me, and I went
sadly away, to see him no more. I left MacCaskill, the lucky owner of
old Fagge’s gold-hole, to realise his dreams.
“See!” exclaimed happy Akshelah, as our canoe, which I had bought at
Waterhen from one of the Swampy Tribes, brushed lightly along the
smiling shore of our own Lake Whispering.
I looked, and saw upon the slopes that tiny rare red flower which
blooms on a level with the ground, and which refuses to live within
the influence of human passions. It is even true that this flower will
alter its colour, and become blue, if men settle near the spot where it
grows; and if many people collect, and a town or village springs up,
the little plant dies altogether, because it is too ethereal to live
where men breathe, and move, and defile the atmosphere.
I sprang ashore and picked some of the plant, but directly I touched
the bloom it withered in my hands, and Akshelah tried with a like
result. Had we been going out I might have been depressed, but we were
home again, so we laughed and sang aloud with the excellent happiness
that comes so seldom. We paddled on towards the bend in the brimming
lake, because the sun was falling low behind.
Now I was coming to the land of treasure. I had left Yellow Sands to
look for it, and all the time I had it, and by coming away left it
behind. Happy for me that no one had discovered it in my absence! For
the true Bonanza is home, wherever it may be. Some may have that dear
home in the city or country inside, and some in the world outside;
but wherever it is, there the heart turns, like the robin, who leaves
us for the long winter, but flies back in the spring. The canoe swept
round the bend, where the fine shingle murmured with the play of the
emerald water. Before us we saw the sun shining upon the golden sands.
My home had been rebuilt, and I was expected. Antoine was planting
potatoes that evening, and pointed with a grunt to a fresh piece of
garden land, which he had reclaimed from the willows and wood-ants.
Everything was scented and delicious in the magnificent spring. And
below, my own little Yellow Sands ran with its sparkling music.
Such is my dream of the false Bonanza. I am awake again now--awake,
with the old remembered song of the waters beneath, and my bright-eyed
wife at my side. I am satisfied, because I have proved the two worlds,
and tried the men who live in each. I am happy, because I have escaped
from the world which I could never love, because I am surrounded by the
wonderful Nature which is all I ask for.
So I shall never leave my northern home again.