suggested, slowly, "there's
no reason why you shouldn't take McCleod and Richardson with you, and
Pete and half the horses, and strike for the tin country on the other
side of the Yolite Hills. So long as we are here, it's quite worth it,
if you can stick it out."

Tavernake drew a long breath.

"I'd like to go," he admitted, simply. "I know McCleod is keen about
prospecting further south. You see, most of our finds so far have been
among the oil fields."

"Settled," Pritchard declared. "To-morrow, then, we part. I'm for the
valley, and I reckon I'll strike the railway to Chicago in a week. Gee
whiz! New York will seem good!"

"You think that the syndicate will be satisfied with what we have done
so far?" Tavernake asked.

His companion smiled.

"If they aren't, they'll be fools. I reckon there's enough oil fields
here for seven companies. There'll be a bit for us, too, Tavernake, I
guess. Don't you want to come back to New York and spend it?"

Tavernake laughed once more, but this time his laugh was not wholly
natural.

"Spend it!" he repeated. "What is there to spend it on? Uncomfortable
clothes, false plays, drinks that are bad for you, food that's half
poisoned, atmosphere that stifles. My God, Pritchard, is there anything
in the world like this! Stretch out your arms, man. Lie on your back,
look up at the stars, let that wind blow over your face. Listen."

They listened, and again they heard nothing, yet again there seemed to
be that peculiar quality about the silence which spoke of the vastness
of space.

Pritchard rose to his feet.

"New York and the fleshpots for me," he declared. "Keep in touch, and
good luck old man!"

Next day at dawn they parted, and Tavernake, with his three companions,
set his face towards an almost undiscovered tract of land. Their
progress was slow, for they were all the time in a country rich with
possibilities. For weeks they climbed, climbed till they reached the
snows and the wind stung their faces and they shivered in their rugs at
night. They came to a land of sparser vegetation, of fewer and wilder
animals, where they heard the baying of wolves at night, and saw the
eyes of strange animals glisten through the thicket as the flames of
their evening fire shot up toward the sky. Then the long descent began,
the long descent to the great plain. Now their faces were bronzed with
a sun ever hotter, ever more powerful. No longer the snow flakes
beat their cheeks. They c