dilapidated of the whole gang, although the owner, and was reputed to be
wealthy.

But he was a man with a purpose in life, and that was more than a great
many could say. He was chronically eccentric. When he first located on
the homestead which had since become so valuable an asset, he had
determined to live with one purpose in view, and that was to expand
financially with the toil of his hands and the sweat of his brow, and
then, when he had acquired sufficient sinking fund, to emerge suddenly
into the limelight of society and shine like a newly polished gem. So he
wandered up and down the trail which his own feet and the feet of his
cayuse had worn through the woods, up the creek, along the face of the
mountains, and away down to the limy waters of the Fraser on the other
side of the perpetual snows.

There was a fascination for him on this old trail; it had become as part
of his life, of his very soul. Sometimes he would be rounding up cattle.
Sometimes he would be hunting mowich (deer), or driving off the coyotes.
All his plans and schemes were built on trail foundation. He could not
think unless he was tramping the trail through the woods, and down the
valleys. Here is where all his castles were constructed; and, from the
trail observatory, he saw his new life spring into being, when the time
would be ripe.

In time the coin grew so bulky that it became a burden to him. It had
grown very cumbersome. He might at any time resurrect himself into that
new world of his, but there was no occasion for haste; he was very happy
and contented; besides, it would mean leaving the old trail and things.
He had his balance banked in a strong box which he buried in a hole
under his bed, and the fear grew upon him that some mercenary might