Part 18

It was the beginning of June, and my wife and I had travelled since the end of April, when the break-up had visited the land somewhat earlier than usual. It was the season of sound after the silence of winter, the season which we call Sekwun, or the Spring. The streams were running among the hills, the wavies were calling overhead, the snow buntings were whirling past in clouds, and the crocus made the slopes purple; and we were happy--we were coming home. The long night was done, the aurora had gone out, and the sun turned everything into gold.

The five awful months filling the interval are black to look upon now. I had nothing to bind me to the false Bonanza. I had parted with my claim, not unselfishly, but because I needed it no more.

I had found an old gentleman, another Englishman, and a very frail old man, who had been ruined by his only son, and who had come into the new land to try and find a little gold, not so much for the comforting of his old age as to enable him to pay the profligate’s debts, and so to clear an honourable name. He had often come to my shanty during the eternal night, and he was never so happy as when talking about his unnatural son.

Once, in conversation, he began to narrate how he had followed the young man after nightfall along the London way which he called Piccadilly, being anxious to learn in what company the scapegrace spent his time; but the latter discovered the nearness of his father, and escaped.

“He eluded me beside the Park,” said the old man, “but I could not be sure which way he went. However, later that night--”

I interrupted his recollections.

“Is there not an archway of white stone,” I said suddenly, “opening into a big space where there are trees and walks? Perhaps your son went under that arch.”

The old gentleman started and stared at me.

“You told me you had passed all your life out here!” he exclaimed.

“My father brought me out from London as a baby,” I said, wondering at my own late words.

After an interval of silence, the old gentleman spoke, and explained for me.

“Your nurse would have taken you through the Park every day, I daresay, and often out at Hyde Park Corner. That is the archway which you remember. You must have seen it with your baby eyes, and your brain still retains the impression.”

Another night I ventured to ask him how his claim had worked before the coming of the close season, and the question made him sad.

“No good,” he said, in his quiet voice. “It is a hill claim, and such are hard to work. I have found next to nothing.”

Before leaving Hanafin City, I went to the Record Office, paid the fee of two dollars, and registered an assignment of my grant permitting me to mine upon Number One MacCaskill. The following day I paid the required fee of fifteen dollars, and took out a new grant made in favour of Alexander Pearson, the good old English gentleman, whose only fault was his too great affection for a worthless son. I sent this little present by Akshelah, who gave it into his hands, and then came away, as I had instructed her, and we left Hanafin City at once. I believe there was a good deal of coarse gold left in that claim. I hope there was.

On that last night I went to bid farewell to MacCaskill, with whom I had not spoken since Christmas. He had come out with me as my partner, and I could not go away without bidding him good-bye. It was not difficult to find him, but when I came out of the drinking saloon into the gambling division, and discovered him, I did not carry out my intention. He was drunk, not with liquor, but with the fever and passion of gambling, and he was watching the faro cards with the wild stare of a hungry beast. I did speak to him once, but he took no heed; I ventured to touch his arm, but he only looked ahead, and howled “Lost again!” and pulled out more gold. He had not noticed me, and I went sadly away, to see him no more. I left MacCaskill, the lucky owner of old Fagge’s gold-hole, to realise his dreams.

“See!” exclaimed happy Akshelah, as our canoe, which I had bought at Waterhen from one of the Swampy Tribes, brushed lightly along the smiling shore of our own Lake Whispering.

I looked, and saw upon the slopes that tiny rare red flower which blooms on a level with the ground, and which refuses to live within the influence of human passions. It is even true that this flower will alter its colour, and become blue, if men settle near the spot where it grows; and if many people collect, and a town or village springs up, the little plant dies altogether, because it is too ethereal to live where men breathe, and move, and defile the atmosphere.

I sprang ashore and picked some of the plant, but directly I touched the bloom it withered in my hands, and Akshelah tried with a like result. Had we been going out I might have been depressed, but we were home again, so we laughed and sang aloud with the excellent happiness that comes so seldom. We paddled on towards the bend in the brimming lake, because the sun was falling low behind.

Now I was coming to the land of treasure. I had left Yellow Sands to look for it, and all the time I had it, and by coming away left it behind. Happy for me that no one had discovered it in my absence! For the true Bonanza is home, wherever it may be. Some may have that dear home in the city or country inside, and some in the world outside; but wherever it is, there the heart turns, like the robin, who leaves us for the long winter, but flies back in the spring. The canoe swept round the bend, where the fine shingle murmured with the play of the emerald water. Before us we saw the sun shining upon the golden sands.

My home had been rebuilt, and I was expected. Antoine was planting potatoes that evening, and pointed with a grunt to a fresh piece of garden land, which he had reclaimed from the willows and wood-ants. Everything was scented and delicious in the magnificent spring. And below, my own little Yellow Sands ran with its sparkling music.

Such is my dream of the false Bonanza. I am awake again now--awake, with the old remembered song of the waters beneath, and my bright-eyed wife at my side. I am satisfied, because I have proved the two worlds, and tried the men who live in each. I am happy, because I have escaped from the world which I could never love, because I am surrounded by the wonderful Nature which is all I ask for.

So I shall never leave my northern home again.

THE END

_Printed by Cowan & Co., Limited, Perth._

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.