For a month Bud worked and forced himself to cheerfulness, and tried to
forget. Sometimes it was easy enough, but there were other times when
he must get away by himself and walk and walk, with his rifle over his
shoulder as a mild pretense that he was hunting game. But if he brought
any back camp it was because the game walked up and waited to be shot;
half the time Bud did not know where he was going, much less whether
there were deer within ten rods or ten miles.
During those spells of heartsickness he would sit all the evening and
smoke and stare at some object which his mind failed to register. Cash
would sit and watch him furtively; but Bud was too engrossed with his
own misery to notice it. Then, quite unexpectedly, reaction would come
and leave Bud in a peace that was more than half a torpid refusal of his
mind to worry much over anything.
He worked then, and talked much with Cash, and made plans for the
development of their mine. In that month they had come to call it a
mine, and they had filed and recorded their claim, and had drawn up an
agreement of partnership in it. They would "sit tight" and work on it
through the winter, and when spring came they hoped to have something
tangible upon which to raise sufficient capital to develop it properly.
Or, times when they had done unusually well with their sandbank, they
would talk optimistically about washing enough gold out of that claim to
develop the other, and keep the title all in their own hands.
Then, one night Bud dreamed again of Marie, and awoke with an insistent
craving for the oblivion of drunkenness. He got up and cooked the
breakfast, washed the dishes and swept the cabin, and measured out two
ounces of gold from what they had saved.
"You're keeping tabs on everything, Cash," he said shortly. "Just charge
this up to me. I'm going to town."
Cash looked up at him from under a slanted eye-brow. His lips had a
twist of pained disapproval.
"Yeah. I figured you was about due in town," he said resignedly.
"Aw, lay off that told-you-so stuff," Bud growled. "You never figured
anything of the kind, and you know it." He pulled his heavy sweater down
off a nail and put it on, scowling because the sleeves had to be pulled
in place on his arms.
"Too bad you can't wait a day. I figured we'd have a clean-up to-morrow,
maybe. She's been running pretty heavy---"
"Well, go ahead and clean up, then. You can do it alone. Or wait till I
get back."
Cash laughed, as a retort cutting, and not because he was amused. Bud
swore and went out, slamming the door behind him.