my friend."

Lawless looked round the room, at the wooden cup, the gun, the
bloodstained clothes on the wall, and the skins. He got up, came over,
and touched Pourcette on the shoulder.

"Little man," he said, "give it up, and come with me. Come to Fort St.
John, sell the skins, give the money to the girl, and then let us travel
to the Barren Grounds together, and from there to the south country
again. You will go mad up here. You have killed enough--Gawdor and many
pumas. If Jo could speak, he would say, Give it up. I knew Jo. He was my
good friend before he was yours--mine and M'Gann's here--and we searched
for him to travel with us. He would have done so, I think, for we had
sport and trouble of one kind and another together. And he would have
asked you to come also. Well, do so, little man. We haven't told you our
names. I am Sir Duke Lawless, and this is Shon M'Gann."

Pourcette nodded: "I do not know how it come to me, but I was sure
from the first you are his friends. He speak often of you and of two
others--where are they?"

Lawless replied, and, at the name of Pretty Pierre, Shon hid his
forehead in his hand, in a troubled way. "And you will come with us,"
said Lawless, "away from this loneliness?"

"It is not lonely," was the reply. "To hear the thrum of the pigeon, the
whistle of the hawk, the chatter of the black squirrel, and the long cry
of the eagle, is not lonely. Then, there is the river and the pines--all
music; and for what the eye sees, God has been good; and to kill pumas
is my joy.... So, I cannot go. These hills are mine. Few strangers come,
and none stop but me. Still, to-morrow or any day, I will show you the
way to the valley where the gold is. Perhaps riches is there, perhaps
not, you shall find."

Lawless saw that it was no use to press the matter. The old man had but
one idea, and nothing could ever change it. Solitude fixes our hearts
immovably on things--call it madness, what you will. In busy life we
have no real or lasting dreams, no ideals. We have to go to the primeval
hills and the wild plains for them. When we leave the hills and the
plains, we lose them again. Shon was, however, for the valley of gold.
He was a poor man, and it would be a joyful thing for him if one day he
could empty ample gold into his wife's lap. Lawless was not greedy, but
he and good gold were not at variance.

"See," said Shon, "the valley's the thing. We can hunt as we go, and if
there's gold for the