But, unconsciously, perhaps, the thought of the treasure and the fact that he was now in a position to start after it, quickened his steps, and he made the return trip in much less time than he had spent on the first half of his journey.

"Well, Fred!" exclaimed his father, as his son entered the house, "we didn't expect you until to-morrow. I suppose you couldn't reach any agreement with the widow, and had to come back."

"No, dad, I was successful."

"You don't mean to say she gave you the map?"

"Not exactly the map, but a copy of it, which is just as good."

"And permission to hunt for the treasure?"

"Yes, dad."

"Oh, Fred! Are you going off to that terrible cold country?" asked his mother, who came into the room just then, and heard the closing part of the conversation.

"Well, mother, don't you think it's worth trying for? Think of getting thousands of dollars in gold!"

"Yes, but it wouldn't make up for being frozen to death."

"No, mother—but I don't expect to freeze to death. We will take fur-lined clothes along."

"Where are you going to get them? I used to have a fur-lined cloak once, but the moths ate it up."

"I'm afraid it would hardly have answered, if you had it now, mother. But of course that's a part I've got to talk over with father—about fitting out the expedition."

"And I'm afraid you'll have trouble," remarked Mr. Stanley. "Oh, if I was only well and strong I'd ask nothing better than to go along!"

His words caused a little feeling of sadness, but it soon passed away, and Fred's father and mother listened with interest to his account of the trip to Denville.

"Now, father, what would you advise me to do?" asked Fred, when he had concluded. "We need to get some man, who has money, interested in this venture, for it will cost something to fit out the expedition. Do you know of any one among your acquaintances, who would take the risk?"

Mr. Stanley was silent for several seconds. He was in deep thought. Then he suddenly exclaimed:

"Fred! I believe I know the very man."

"Who, dad?"

"Simon Baxter. He is an old gold hunter, as well as a miner. He has gone on several expeditions of this kind, and he has traveled in the far north. He would be the very man."

"Is he well off?"

"Yes, he is quite rich."

"Do you think he would go; and provide the money?"

"Ah, that is another question. But it would do no harm to see him, and find out. He lives about five miles from here, with his son Jerry, who is about your age, Fred."

"Perhaps Jerry would go along. Then he and I could have a good time together."

"He might. He is a strong, hearty lad, about your build. I will write a letter to Mr. Baxter, and you can take it to him. You were so successful with the widow Stults, where I did not think you would be, that, perhaps, you can prevail on this old gold hunter to finance the expedition. He and I are old friends, though I have not seen him in some time."

"Write the letter at once, dad, and I'll take it to him."

"Aren't you tired, after your long tramp?"

"No. Besides, I am so anxious that I can't rest."

"Very well. I'll write the letter at once."

After dinner Fred started out, this time on a shorter journey, bearing a letter to Mr. Baxter, explaining matters.

Fred found the old gold hunter in his garden, pulling weeds from an onion patch.

"Well?" he asked, as Fred came up the walk.

"Here is a letter for you, Mr. Baxter."

The old miner read it through slowly. Then he started on it a second time. Finally, when he had again gotten to the end, he asked:

"Are you Fred Stanley?"

"I am, sir."

"And you want me to leave my quiet life here, let my garden all grow up to weeds, and go chasing off to Alaska after a lot of gold that we'll probably never find."

"We might find it; and, as for the garden, isn't there some one you can leave in charge?"

"Nobody knows how to take care of my garden but myself," said the man. "Especially my onion bed. I'm very fond of onions. Are you?"

"No, sir, I don't like them."

"Great mistake! Great mistake! Everyone ought to eat onions. They're the healthiest vegetable that grows. Guess I'll have one now," and he pulled a green one from the ground, wiped the earth from it, and chewed it with every indication of satisfaction.

"But—about the gold expedition," said Fred, thinking the old man had forgotten all about it.

"The gold? Oh, yes. I was thinking whether I hadn't better plant more onions. It hardly seems enough to tide me over the winter, but I'll have to make 'em do. The gold, hum—let me see."

He got up from his knees, read Mr. Stanley's letter over again, folded it carefully, placed it in the envelope, placed the envelope in his pocket, and then said:

"Come into the house, young man."