a bore to your friends. Away," I said--"away with your water-marks and
variations! They are nothing to me. They shall not deflect me from the
quest."

I pointed with my spoon across the river to a small mountain shaped like
a pack-saddle.

"I am going to search that mountain," I went on, "for the treasure.
Decide now whether you are in it or not. If you wish to let a
water-mark or a variation shake your soul, you are no true adventurer.
Decide."

A white cloud of dust began to rise far down the river road. It was the
mail-wagon from Hesperus to Chico. Goodloe flagged it.

"I am done with the swindle," said he, sourly. "No one but a fool would
pay any attention to that paper now. Well, you always were a fool, Jim.
I leave you to your fate."

He gathered his personal traps, climbed into the mail-wagon, adjusted
his glasses nervously, and flew away in a cloud of dust.

After I had washed the dishes and staked the horses on new grass,
I crossed the shallow river and made my way slowly through the
cedar-brakes up to the top of the hill shaped like a pack-saddle.

It was a wonderful June day. Never in my life had I seen so many birds,
so many butter-flies, dragon-flies, grasshoppers, and such winged and
stinged beasts of the air and fields.