The storms of winter were over, and the days were rapidly lengthening. The sun rode higher in the heavens, and the breath of spring was pervading the great northland. Nance was much excited at the thought of leaving the Quaska valley and passing beyond the mountains to the marvellous world outside. She dwelt upon it by day and dreamed of it by night. Her few scanty belongings she had carefully gathered together. These she would take with her. But when out in the big cities she would buy many wonderful things for which her heart longed.

Martin noted her animation, and listened quietly as she talked about the journey they were to make, and what nice times they would have seeing the strange sights. Although he was pleased to see Nance so happy, his heart, nevertheless, was heavy. To him the idea of mingling once again with the throbbing world of humanity brought no joy. The little cabin in the wilderness was very dear to him. Here he had spent the past twelve years, hidden from people of his own race and immune from the bitter tongues of men and women. The lake, river, forest, and mountains were friends true and tried. He loved them, and their varying moods drew him very close to them. He had watched and studied them so often, both in calm and storm, that he wondered how he could get along without them. The Indians, too, though rough and uncouth, had been kind neighbors. He disliked their manner of living and their improvident ways. Yet they had always been good to him and to Nance, and he should greatly miss them. Thus he would sit at night, long after Nance had gone to bed, smoking and thinking about the changes which were soon to take place in his life.

He was seated one evening before the fire with Nance by his side, when the door of the cabin was gently pushed open, and Taku glided into the room. He was given a hearty welcome, and Martin passed over his tobacco as soon as the native had squatted himself upon the floor. When Taku had filled his pipe, and clouds of smoke were circling above his head, an expression of satisfaction overspread his honest, dusky face.

"Snow all go soon," he at length remarked. "Geese, duck all come back. Plenty grub den."

"How long before the ice goes out this year?" Martin asked.

"Beeg moon, leetle moon, moon all go. Ice go also," was the reply.

"In about one month, eh?"

"Ah, ah."

"Good fishing this year?" Martin inquired.

"Good feesh? Ah, ah, mebbe so. Taku no feesh," and the Indian shook his head.

"What, not going to do any fishing?"

"No. Taku go down ribber. Taku see white man. Taku get moche."

"Oh, I see. But are you sure that the white men are there? Maybe they all went away last fall."

Again Taku shook his head, and gazed thoughtfully into the fire.

"White man no go," he at last explained. "Taku see two wan sleep ago."

"What? You saw two white men?" Martin exclaimed, now much aroused.

"Ah, ah."

"Where?"

"Down ribber."

"What, the Heena?"

The Indian nodded.

"And what were the white men doing on the river?"

"Trabblin', dat's all, pack on back. Taku see 'um. Dey in hurry. Dey tell Taku come down to beeg ribber."

"Didn't they tell you where they had come from or what they were doing in here?" Martin questioned.

"No, dey tell nottin'. Dey in beeg hurry; dat's all."

"Did they tell you what they wanted you for, Taku?"

"No."

"And you will go?"

"Ah, ah."

"When?"

"Wan sleep. Tak' dog also. Go queeck."

Martin sat up later than usual this night, as his mind was much disturbed. Nance saw that something was troubling him, so she did not ask for the customary evening music. She kissed him as she had done for years, and went to her own little room.

Early next morning Martin announced that he was going up stream, and might be gone all day. He left Nance standing in the doorway, looking enquiringly after him.

"I will tell you all about it, Nance, when I come back," he called to her as she waved him good-bye.

It was supper time ere Martin returned, and over the meal he explained the object of his visit up the river.

"It's just what I thought, Nance," he began. "When Taku told us about those two white men I had my suspicion, and I was right. They were prospectors, and have discovered the gold up the Quaska."

"Oh!" It was all that Nance said as she looked inquiringly across the table.

"Yes," Martin continued, "I suspected something, and made up my mind to visit my old diggings. There were faded foot-prints all around, and I found where the men had shovelled away the snow and examined the hole I had made. Of course, as you know, the earth I left is full of gold, so they must have found enough in the frozen ground to more than satisfy them. I saw the little brush lean-to where they had evidently camped, showing that they must have been there several days. I tracked them down-stream, and learned that they had been close to our house. Why they did not call, I cannot tell. Perhaps they were unaware that white people lived here. They turned off sharply to the left, and either crossed the lake or went around the other side, and came out upon the river farther down."

"Do you think that they will come back?" Nance inquired.

"Come back! Indeed they will, and bring a regular crazy mob with them. It isn't every day that men make such a strike as that. As soon as those men record what they have found there will be the greatest stampede the world has ever seen."

"Will they wait until the river is open, do you think?" Nance asked. "We may be away soon afterwards, and so they will not trouble us."

"No, they won't wait, Nance. They will come at once, and many of them, no doubt, will die upon the way. There is no trail, and the ice in the river is getting weak. I've heard about such stampedes. Men seem to go about crazy. They start off with little food, some get hurt, others sick, and numbers just play out. It is wonderful to me what men will endure for the sake of gold."

Almost three weeks later what Martin had foretold came to pass. The vanguard of the prospectors and miners arrived. It was early morning when men were observed making their way slowly along the shore of the lake. They bore packs upon their backs, and leaned much forward. Each carried a stick, which he used as a cane. They all passed close to the cabin, so Martin and Nance could see them quite plainly. They did not turn aside to rest, but moved steadily onward. They seemed to be very weary, and their clothes were ripped and torn. They passed, and, later, others came. Several were limping painfully, which told of swollen and blistered feet. They, too, passed without stopping. Then far down the shore of the lake a struggling line appeared, and as they drew near and staggered by, the watchers from the cabin were moved to deep pity.

"Look at that old man with the white beard!" Nance exclaimed. "Why, he can hardly walk, and that young man by his side is supporting him and helping him along. They must be father and son."

She had barely finished speaking when the old man fell heavily forward. With a cry that could be heard within the cabin, the young man knelt by his side, and endeavoured to lift him to his feet. No one stopped to help him, but all brushed by and hurried on. The gold was ahead, and they must not delay. They had witnessed numerous cases such as this since leaving the great river, one hundred and forty miles away, and their hearts had become hardened to such sights.

With the watchers in the cabin, however, it was different. No sooner had the man fallen than Martin bounded across the room, flung open the door, and hurried out into the open. The young man was astonished to see aid in the form of a white man emerge from a building, which he had supposed contained only natives. "Come," Martin ordered, "give me a hand, and we'll carry him up to the house."

Lifting the helpless man in their arms, they bore him swiftly and gently up the slope. Nance was standing holding open the door as they drew near, and when the sufferer had been laid upon Martin's cot she came close and stood by his side. She noted how worn and haggard was the man's face, while his eyes shone with an unnatural light. His hair was white and long, and his beard fell in profusion upon his breast. He was a powerfully-built man, and the cot upon which he was lying was too short for him. He kept tossing his arms wildly about, and made several attempts to rise, but always fell back panting heavily after each exertion.

"I must get there!" he cried. "Don't stop me! The rest will be ahead of me. Fer God's sake, let me go!"

At these words the young man bent over him, and placed his right hand upon his arm.

"Hush, hush, Tom," he commanded. "Everything will be all right. Be quiet and rest a while."

The vacant expression in the old man's eyes suddenly cleared, and he looked eagerly up.

"Is it much farther, pard?" he asked. "Are we almost there?"

The young man turned inquiringly to Martin standing near.

"Can you answer him?" he asked.

"It's not far," Martin replied. "But it's too far for this man in his present condition."

"Is there anything there?" the young man asked. "Is the ground rich?"

"Rich! There's gold everywhere. The ground is full of it."

The old man heard these words, and attempted to rise.

"Help me up," he cried. "I must go! D'ye hear what he says? The ground is full of gold. Give me yer hand, pard, an' help me out of this."

"No, no, Tom; you can't; you're not able," the young man insisted, pushing him gently back.

"I can't! Why can't I? Why should I stay here an' let the others get all the gold? I've been rustlin' fer gold all me life, an' d'ye think I'll be baulked when it's so near? Let me up, I say."

"But you know, Tom, it's impossible," the young man urged. "You're all in. You should never have come on this trip at all."

"I shouldn't! Why shouldn't I? I'm not a baby."

"But think how sick you were at Rapid City. Why, man, you got out of bed to come, and would listen to no advice. It's a wonder to me that you're not dead. What kept you up for days on that trail is more than I can understand."

"It was the gold that did it, ha, ha," and the old man's eyes glowed with the intense light of the enthusiast. "Yes, the gold'll cure all sickness in my body. It always has. Didn't dozens of chaps play right out, while I came through? Yes, an' by God, I'll go on, too, an' won't be stuck here. I'll stake my claim with the rest. I've never been beaten, an' won't now!"

"Now, look here, Tom. Don't you worry about that claim you hope to stake. I'll stake it for you, so it will be all right."

"But you can't stake two, pard."

"No, and I don't intend to try. I didn't come here to stake a claim. But as you are not able to do it, there's nothing else for me to do but take your place, see?"

"But——"

"There, that will do, Tom," and the young man's voice was firm; "I won't listen to anything more. You can't go, that's certain, and I won't help you. I'm going in your place. You stay here, keep quiet, and don't worry. I will come back as soon as I can, and report."

The young man turned away from the cot, and as he did so he caught sight of Nance near the fire-place. He had not noticed her before so much taken up had he been with his stricken companion. But now he stood looking with wonder at the woman before him. The table was set ready for breakfast. The cloth was spotless, and the dishes were all neatly arranged. Nance had just stooped to lift the tea-pot, where it was warming before the coals, as the young man turned and saw her. The light of the fire brought into clear relief her graceful figure, adding at the same time a charm to her face and well-poised head such as he had never seen before. He stood spellbound for a few seconds, wondering where she could have dropped from. He had never expected to find such a beautiful being in this wilderness region. He even passed his hand across his eyes to make sure that it was not a vision which would immediately vanish. Then he glanced around the room, and was still further surprised at the books so neatly arranged against the wall. He longed to cross over and examine them, as he was hungry for reading matter of any kind.

As he stood thus Martin approached.

"Come, young man," he remarked; "you must have something to eat before you start up river. Breakfast is all ready, so if you care to put up with our humble fare, you are more than welcome."

The man addressed turned a pair of grateful brown eyes upon Martin's face.

"Humble, do you say!" he replied with a laugh. "Do you call that humble, sir? Why, I have not seen anything half so good as that steak for months. And as for bread, I don't know when I have tasted a scrap. Hard-tack, and mighty little of that, has been the nearest I have had to bread since last year. And as to sitting down to a table with a white cloth upon it, and such dishes as you have here, is most unusual in this country. Why, this is a palace. It is certainly good of you to invite me to such a feast as this, for I am very hungry. But with your permission I shall feed Tom first, for he is about starved."

Martin liked the appearance and the voice of the stranger. He had such an honest face, almost boyish in appearance. His eyes were expressive of sympathy and fun. His tall, erect figure was clad in a rough buckskin suit, a belt encircled his waist, while his feet were encased in the rough miner's boots laced halfway to the knees. Over his right shoulder extended a strap, supporting at his side a black leather case.

"Pardon me," Martin remarked, suddenly realising his position as host; "this is my—my daughter, Nance, Nance Rutland. I fear I have been neglecting my duty."

The young man at once stepped forward, and held out his hand.

"This is certainly more than I expected, Miss Rutland," he replied. "I had no idea that there was such a house as this out here. It is a great treat to meet a white woman, especially," he continued with a smile, "when one is starving. I have been doing my own cooking for months, and am thoroughly tired of it."

"You had better wait until you know what my cooking is like," Nance replied, as she took her place at the head of the table.

She tried to be calm, but her heart kept beating very fast, and she knew that her cheeks were flushed more than they should be. She instinctively felt that this stranger was a gentleman, and she wished to do what was proper in his presence, and not seem confused. But her hand trembled as she poured the tea, and she could not trust herself to speak lest she should make some foolish blunder. She tried to imagine how Beryl would act on such an occasion, and what she would say.

There was little need for words, however, on her part. Martin and the stranger talked, so she was content to listen. The young man told about his own experience and that of the others on their wild stampede into the Quaska valley. He drew a pathetic picture of the hardships and sufferings which were endured, and how many became discouraged and turned back. He told of the humorous side as well, and related several stories of an amusing nature.

"If I were only an artist," he concluded, "or if I had a camera along, I should have been able to obtain some excellent pictures."

"I thought that black case contained a camera," Martin replied. "I am quite relieved, for I was afraid lest you should snap our cabin and force Nance and me to undergo the same ordeal."

"Nothing would please me better," the visitor laughed, glancing toward Nance. "But it's not as serious as that. It's only a simple medical case I always carry with me. I've had to use it quite often since leaving Rapid City."

"You're a medical man, then—a doctor," Martin returned.

"I suppose I am, and back at old McGill I'm recorded as an M.D., and the men will persist in calling me 'Doc.' But I like to be called just 'Dick,' without any handle. Dick Russell is my name, by the way. 'Mr.' and 'Doctor' make one feel so old, but just Dick sounds fine to my ears. But, say," he added in a lower voice, "you won't mind looking after Tom, will you? He's all gold, but knocked out just now. He's a character all by himself, true as steel, and full of fun. He's been the life of the camp down river all winter. I must be off now, but would you let me sleep here on the floor to-night if I should come back?"

"Sure," Martin replied. "You're welcome to the best we have, and you'll need it, too, I'm thinking."

Telling Tom to keep up courage, and with a good-by and a wave of the hand to Martin and Nance standing at the door, the young man swung away from the cabin toward the trail, leading along the Quaska River.