"Well, t' make a long story short, Jim an' me tried every way we
knowed t' git t' that valley, but we couldn't. It come off colder
an' colder, an' th' tribe of Indians with whom we lived was attacked
by some of their enemies, an' driven away from their campin'
grounds. Jim an' me, we went too, but not before Jim had drawed this
map on a piece of dog-skin we found in one of the huts. We had an
idea we might get back, some day, an' find the valley, so we'd need
a map t' go by. But poor Jim never got back. He got badly frozen
when the Indians drove us an' our friends away, an' he never got
over it. He died up there in th' ice, an' we buried him. I took th'
map, an' when spring come, I made a hike out of that country. From
then until now I've been plannin' how t' git t' that valley, an' th'
only way I seen was an airship. Then, when I was prospectin' around
out in Colorado I saw Tom's machine hidden in th' trees, an' I
waited until he come along, which part you know as well as I do,"
finished Abe.

"And that's the story of the valley of gold," spoke Mr. Swift.

"That's all there is to it," assented Abe, simply.

"Do you think there is much gold there?" asked Tom.

"Plenty of it--for th' pickin' up," replied the miner. "Around th'
caves of ice it's full of it, but, of course, it's dangerous. An'
th' only way t' git t' it, an' pass th' savage Indians that are all
around in th' mountains about th' valley, is t' fly over their heads
in th' airship."