Part 43 (2/2)

But I ain't got much use for money. Money's only a grubstake, so's you c'n buy things and go out and hunt for gold. Good-by, folks! Next fall you'll see me and the little fellas ag'in. Hi, Muta! Lead out!”

And, gripping his staff, he limped off in the wake of his long-eared companions, swinging their packs from side to side as a mother rocks the cradle.

”They're all like that,” said a man. ”It's the hunt for it that keeps 'em goin'. They don't know what to do with it when they get it.”

The dark eyes of Jerkline Jo were full of dreams.

”Yes, we're all like that, I imagine,” she said.

”And how bout _you_, Jo?” some one asked. ”Now that you're rich and married and all?”

Jo looked down the street at the nearly completed roundhouse and the track-laying engine working on below the town.

”I?” she said dreamily. ”Why--why--I don't just know. The steel has come, and now freight will reach here by train. We're going to New York--Hiram and I--and maybe across the Atlantic. But we'll come back soon, and--and---- Oh, there'll be a new road building somewhere--another Ragtown. We couldn't quit, I guess. What's city life and all that money will buy compared with the thrill of driving a ten-horse jerkline team over the desert and the mountains? I guess, after we've looked about the Gentle Wild Cat and I will just keep on driving jerkline to Ragtown--somewhere.”

She pointed over the desert to where a bent old man and six drifting burros were blending gradually into the landscape.

”He's not crazy,” she said softly. ”He has just voiced a great fundamental truth for all humanity. Money is only a grubstake. The world needs gold and--and freight. Jerkline to Ragtown--that's life!

Some Ragtown will need freight--some Ragtown--somewhere.”

THE END.

<script>