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gold on this creek and remained over to work the ground。
They hailed the advent of Tarwater with joy； never tired of
listening to his tales of Forty…Nine； and rechristened him Old
Hero。 Also； with tea made from spruce needles； with concoctions
brewed from the inner willow bark； and with sour and bitter roots
and bulbs from the ground； they dosed his scurvy out of him； so
that he ceased limping and began to lay on flesh over his bony
framework。 Further； they saw no reason at all why he should not
gather a rich treasure of gold from the ground。
〃Don't know about all of three hundred thousand；〃 they told him one
morning； at breakfast； ere they departed to their work； 〃but how'd
a hundred thousand do； Old Hero？ That's what we figure a claim is
worth； the ground being badly spotted； and we've already staked
your location notices。〃
〃Well； boys；〃 Old Tarwater answered； 〃and thanking you kindly； all
I can say is that a hundred thousand will do nicely； and very
nicely； for a starter。 Of course； I ain't goin' to stop till I get
the full three hundred thousand。 That's what I come into the
country for。〃
They laughed and applauded his ambition and reckoned they'd have to
hunt a richer creek for him。 And Old Hero reckoned that as the
spring came on and he grew spryer； he'd have to get out and do a
little snooping around himself。
〃For all anybody knows；〃 he said； pointing to a hillside across the
creek bottom； 〃the moss under the snow there may be plumb rooted in
nugget gold。〃
He said no more； but as the sun rose higher and the days grew
longer and warmer； he gazed often across the creek at the definite
bench…formation half way up the hill。 And； one day； when the thaw
was in full swing； he crossed the stream and climbed to the bench。
Exposed patches of ground had already thawed an inch deep。 On one
such patch he stopped； gathered a bunch of moss in his big gnarled
hands； and ripped it out by the roots。 The sun smouldered on dully
glistening yellow。 He shook the handful of moss； and coarse
nuggets； like gravel； fell to the ground。 It was the Golden Fleece
ready for the shearing。
Not entirely unremembered in Alaskan annals is the summer stampede
of 1898 from Fort Yukon to the bench diggings of Tarwater Hill。
And when Tarwater sold his holdings to the Bowdie interests for a
sheer half…million and faced for California； he rode a mule over a
new…cut trail； with convenient road houses along the way； clear to
the steamboat landing at Fort Yukon。
At the first meal on the ocean…going steamship out of St。 Michaels；
a waiter； greyish…haired； pain…ravaged of face； scurvy…twisted of
body； served him。 Old Tarwater was compelled to look him over
twice in order to make certain he was Charles Crayton。
〃Got it bad； eh； son？〃 Tarwater queried。
〃Just my luck；〃 the other complained； after recognition and
greeting。 〃Only one of the party that the scurvy attacked。 I've
been through hell。 The other three are all at work and healthy；
getting grub…stake to prospect up White River this winter。 Anson's
earning twenty…five a day at carpentering； Liverpool getting twenty
logging for the saw…mill； and Big Bill's getting forty a day as
chief sawyer。 I tried my best； and if it hadn't been for scurvy 。
。 。〃
〃Sure； son； you done your best； which ain't much； you being
naturally irritable and hard from too much business。 Now I'll tell
you what。 You ain't fit to work crippled up this way。 I'll pay
your passage with the captain in kind remembrance of the voyage you
gave me； and you can lay up and take it easy the rest of the trip。
And what are your circumstances when you land at San Francisco？〃
Charles Crayton shrugged his shoulders。
〃Tell you what；〃 Tarwater continued。 〃There's work on the ranch
for you till you can start business again。〃
〃I could manage your business for you … 〃 Charles began eagerly。
〃No； siree；〃 Tarwater declared emphatically。 〃But there's always
post…holes to dig； and cordwood to chop； and the climate's fine 。 。
。 〃
Tarwater arrived home a true prodigal grandfather for whom the
fatted calf was killed and ready。 But first； ere he sat down at
table； he must stroll out and around。 And sons and daughters of
his flesh and of the law needs must go with him fulsomely eating
out of the gnarled old hand that had half a million to disburse。
He led the way； and no opinion he slyly uttered was preposterous or
impossible enough to draw dissent from his following。 Pausing by
the ruined water wheel which he had built from the standing timber；
his face beamed as he gazed across the stretches of Tarwater
Valley； and on and up the far heights to the summit of Tarwater
Mountain … now all his again。
A thought came to him that made him avert his face and blow his
nose in order to hide the twinkle in his eyes。 Still attended by
the entire family； he strolled on to the dilapidated barn。 He
picked up an age…weathered single…tree from the ground。
〃William；〃 he said。 〃Remember that little conversation we had just
before I started to Klondike？ Sure； William； you remember。 You
told me I was crazy。 And I said my father'd have walloped the tar
out of me with a single…tree if I'd spoke to him that way。〃
〃Aw； but that was only foolin'；〃 William temporized。
William was a grizzled man of forty…five； and his wife and grown
sons stood in the group； curiously watching Grandfather Tarwater
take off his coat and hand it to Mary to hold。
〃William … come here；〃 he commanded imperatively。
No matter how reluctantly； William came。
〃Just a taste； William； son； of what my father give me often
enough；〃 Old Tarwater crooned； as he laid on his son's back and
shoulders with the single…tree。 〃Observe； I ain't hitting you on
the head。 My father had a gosh…wollickin' temper and never drew
the line at heads when he went after tar。 … Don't jerk your elbows
back that way！ You're likely to get a crack on one by accident。
And just tell me one thing； William； son： is there nary notion in
your head that I'm crazy？〃
〃No！〃 William yelped out in pain； as he danced about。 〃You ain't
crazy； father of course you ain't crazy！〃
〃You said it；〃 Old Tarwater remarked sententiously； tossing the
single…tree aside and starting to struggle into his coat。
〃Now let's all go in and eat。〃
Glen Ellen； California；
SEPTEMBER 14； 1916。
STORY： THE PRINCESS
A FIRE burned cheerfully in the jungle camp； and beside the fire
lolled a cheerful…seeming though horrible…appearing man。 This was
a hobo jungle； pitched in a thin strip of woods that lay between a
railroad embankment and the bank of a river。 But no hobo was the
man。 So deep…sunk was he in the social abyss that a proper hobo
would not sit by the same fire with him。 A gay…cat； who is an
ignorant new…comer on the 〃Road；〃 might sit with such as he； but
only long enough to le