ast fairly going, with his coffee and bacon on
the coals, and his johnny cake and clean dishes on the table by his
elbow, he settled back on his stool as complacently as though he had
never known anything better.

"I don't know what sort of a conscience Elam's got, but if he's got a
tolerably fair one, it seems to me that he ought to be well contented
with this life," said Tom. "He was born to this thing, and,
consequently, don't know anything better; but as for me, there isn't
money enough in it. But, then, he thinks he is going to find that
nugget. Well, I'd like to find it myself, but I am not going to bother
with it with such a fellow as Elam in the way. I don't want to test
those muscles."

Tom had come to that country to make money; he wasn't going to test
anybody's muscle in order to make it, but he was going to make it. In
spite of all the obstacles that were thrown in his way--and he met with
no greater loss than any tender-foot is likely to meet--he carried back
to his uncle half as much money as he stole from him, and his uncle was
glad to see him, too. This was all in the future, and Tom knew nothing
of it. He ate his breakfast with great satisfaction, getting up from the
table once in a while to examine something new in Elam's outfit, and
when it was done, he washed the dishes and put everything back just as
he had found it. Then there was nothing left for him to do but to cut
wood until Elam came. The latter would be cold and wet from handling
those muddy traps, and there would be nothing wanting but a fire for him
to get up to. Every once in a while he dropped his axe and went out to
the edge of the evergreens to see if he could discover Elam returning,
but always came away disappointed. One thing he continually marvelled
at, and that was the scarcity of game. If anyone had told him that he
could leave his gun and wander away by himself, he would have thought
him foolish; and here he had been alone in the mountains nearly a month
and had not seen anything--not even a jack-rabbit--to shoot at. Had it
not been for that Red Ghost, or whatever it was, that visited him the
night he stayed in the pocket, his gun would have been as clean when he
took it back as when he came out with it. At last, when everything began
to grow indistinct, and Tom had put away his axe and piled up the wood,
he looked for Elam again, resolved if he could not see him to go into
the cabin, haul in the string, and get his supper; but