, the sound of
music from dance-halls, the click of checks and roulette-balls, the
noise of revelry--

"No! No! _No!_" He rose and shouted into the empty silence of his cabin.
"I won't do it! I won't! I won't!"

But the voices called to him all through the night.

He rose early, for they would not let him rest, and during the darkness
a terrible hunger had grown upon him. It was the hunger for
companionship, for speech. His secret was too great for imprisonment, it
threatened to burst the confines of the valley by its own tremendous
force; he knew he could never sleep with it, for it would smother him;
vampire-like, it would suck the life from his veins and the reason from
his brain.

When he had eaten he pocketed the baking-powder tin, slipped into his
snow-shoes and, crossing the gulch, climbed the westward hills that hid
his neighbors. The dogs went with him.

II

News of the John Daniels strike reached Ophir in July, when a ragged,
unkempt man arrived in a poling-boat. He was one of the party that had
camped west of McGill, and he ate a raw potato with the ravenous
appetite of an animal while waiting for his first meal at the Miner's
Rest. Between mouthfuls he gave the word that set the town ablaze.

When he had bought a ton of grub at the A. C. store and weighed out
payment in bright pumpkin-seed gold he went to Hopper's saloon and
handed the proprietor a folded paper.

Hopper read it uncomprehendingly.

"This is a location notice, recorded in my name," the latter said,
turning the document uncomprehendingly as if to see if it contained a
message on the reverse side.

The stranger nodded. "Number Four Above, on John Daniels Creek. John
staked for you, and told me to tell you to come. We've struck it rich."

Hopper's hand shook; he stared at the speaker in bewilderment. "John
Daniels? I don't seem to remember him."

"He's a big slab-sided man with a deep voice and eyes like ice."

The listener started. "Is he--skookum?"

"Stronger 'n any two men--"

"God! It's--McGill!"

"I thought so, but I never saw him only once--that was in Circle. He's
changed now--got a beard. He said you done him a favor once. You're his
friend, ain't you?"

"I am."

"What's the trouble with him?" There was a pause. "You can tell me. He
put me and my five pardners in on his strike. I'm taking grub to him and
the others."

"Oh, it was about a woman, of course. It always is. Everybody here knows
the story. She