as Foster who answered. "No, but he was on his way out to the
States at last, when the end came. I don't understand it. It seems
incredible that Weatherbee, who had won through so many times, handicapped
by the waifs and strays of the trail,--Weatherbee, to whom the Susitna
country was an open scroll,--should have perished as he did. But it was
you who found him, Hollis. Come, tell us all about it."

Tisdale shook his head. "Some other time, Foster. It's a long story and
not the kind to tell here."

"Go on! Go on!" The urging came from many, and Banks added in his high,
tense key; "I guess we can stand it. Most of us saw the iron side of
Alaska before we saw the golden."

"Well, then," Tisdale began reluctantly, "I must take you back a year. I
was completing trail reconnaissance from the new Alaska Midway surveys in
the Susitna Valley, through Rainy Pass, to connect with the mail route
from the interior to Nome, and, to avoid returning another season, kept my
party late in the field. It was the close of September when we struck
Seward Peninsula and miserably cold, with gales sweeping in from Bering
Sea. The grass had frozen, and before we reached a cache of oats I had
relied on, most of our horses perished; we arrived at Nome too late for
the last steamer of the year. That is how I came to winter there, and why
a letter Weatherbee had written in October was so long finding me. It was
forwarded from Seattle with other mail I cabled for, back to Prince
William Sound, over the Fairbanks-Valdez trail, and out again by the
winter route three thousand miles to Nome. It was the middle of March when
I received it, and he had asked me to buy his half interest in the Aurora
mine. He needed the money to go out to the States."

Tisdale's voice broke a little; and for a moment he looked off through the
open door. "Perhaps some of you remember I grub-staked him for a half
share when he left the Tanana to prospect down along the Alaska Range.
After he located, I forwarded him small amounts several times to carry on
development work. I never had been on the ground, but he explained he was
handicapped by high water and was trying to divert the channel of a creek.
In that last letter he said he had carried the scheme nearly through; the
next season would pay my money back and more; the Aurora would pan out the
richest strike he had ever made. But that did not trouble me. I knew if
Weatherbee had spent two years on that placer, the grav