THE POCKET HUNTER 



thousand dollars from an abandoned claim, 

 just the sort of luck to have pleased him, 

 and gone to London to spend it. The 

 land seemed not to miss him any more 

 than it had minded him, but I missed him 

 and could not forget the trick of expecting 

 him in least likely situations. Therefore 

 it was with a pricking sense of the familiar 

 that I followed a twilight trail of smoke, a 

 year or two later, to the swale of a drip- 

 ping spring, and came upon a man by the 

 fire with a coffee-pot and frying-pan. I 

 was not surprised to find it was the Pocket 

 Hunter. 'No man can be stronger' tMn 

 his destiny. 



