"Where'd I leave 'm?" when he had recovered. "Over on the divide to
Indian River, winded, plum-beaten, done for. Just about able to crawl
into the nearest camp, and that's about all. I've covered fifty stiff
miles myself, so here's for bed. Good-night. Don't call me in the
mornin'."
He turned into the blankets all-standing, and as he dozed off Vance
could hear him muttering, "_How far is it, my man_? _I say, how far is
it_?"
Regarding Lucile, Corliss was disappointed. "I confess I cannot
understand her," he said to Colonel Trethaway. "I thought her bench
claim would make her independent of the Opera House."
"You can't get a dump out in a day," the colonel interposed.
"But you can mortgage the dirt in the ground when it prospects as hers
does. Yet I took that into consideration, and offered to advance her a
few thousand, non-interest bearing, and she declined. Said she didn't
need it,--in fact, was really grateful; thanked me, and said that any
time I was short to come and see her."
Trethaway smiled and played with his watch-chain. "What would you?
Life, even here, certainly means more to you and me than a bit of grub,
a piece of blanket, and a Yukon stove. She is as gregarious as the
rest of us, and probably a little more so. Suppose you cut her off
from the Opera House,--what then? May she go up to the Barracks and
consort with the captain's lady, make social calls on Mrs.
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