Dennin, an' he's as gay as a lark."

He broke out in a merry whistle, which quickly became lugubrious
and ceased.

"I'm wishin' there was a priest," he said wistfully; then added
swiftly, "But Michael Dennin's too old a campaigner to miss the
luxuries when he hits the trail."

He was so very weak and unused to walking that when the door opened
and he passed outside, the wind nearly carried him off his feet.
Edith and Hans walked on either side of him and supported him, the
while he cracked jokes and tried to keep them cheerful, breaking
off, once, long enough to arrange the forwarding of his share of
the gold to his mother in Ireland.

They climbed a slight hill and came out into an open space among
the trees. Here, circled solemnly about a barrel that stood on end
in the snow, were Negook and Hadikwan, and all the Siwashes down to
the babies and the dogs, come to see the way of the white man's
law. Near by was an open grave which Hans had burned into the
frozen earth.

Dennin cast a practical eye over the preparations, noting the
grave, the barrel, the thickness of the rope, and the diameter of
the limb over which the rope was passed.

"Sure, an' I couldn't iv done better meself, Hans, if it'd been for
you."