It was pleasanter to look at Barker, whose damp curls were matted over
his smooth, boyish forehead, and whose lips were parted in a smile under
the silken wings of his brown mustache. He, too, seemed to be trying to
speak, and remembering some previous revelations which had amused them,
Demorest leaned over him fraternally with an answering smile, waiting
for the beloved one's name to pass the young man's lips. But he only
murmured, "Three--hundred--thousand dollars!" The elder man turned away
with a grave face. The influence of the treasure was paramount.

When he had placed one of the chairs against the unprotected door at
an angle which would prevent any easy or noiseless intrusion, Demorest
threw himself on his bunk without undressing, and turned his face
towards the single window of the cabin that looked towards the east. He
did not apprehend another covert attempt against the gold. He did not
fear a robbery with force and arms, although he was satisfied that there
was more than one concerned in it, but this he attributed only to the
encumbering weight of their expected booty. He simply waited for the
dawn. It was some time before his eyes were greeted with the vague
opaline brightness of the firmament which meant the vanishing of the
pallid snow-line before the coming day. A bird twittered on the roof.
The air was chill; he drew his blanket around him. Then he closed his
eyes, he fancied only for a moment, but when he opened them the door
was standing open in the strong daylight. He sprang to his feet, but
the next moment he saw it was only Stacy who had passed out, and was
returning fully dressed, bringing water from the spring to fill the
kettle. But Stacy's face was so grave that, recalling his disturbed
sleep, Demorest laughingly inquired if he had been haunted by the
treasure. But to his surprise Stacy put down the kettle, and, with a
hurried glance at the still sleeping Barker, said in a low voice:--