And as he passed the river three ghostly figures ambled down to the bank, and, after drinking their horses, likewise passed over. But while Scipio kept to the trail, they vanished amidst the woods. Their task was over, and they sought the shortest route to their homes. And so Scipio came to his claim. And such was his state of mind, so was he taken up with the happiness which the presence of his wife beside him gave him, and such was his delight in looking forward to the days to come, that he saw nothing of that which lay about him. The air to him was sweet with all the perfumes his thankful heart inspired in his thoughts. His road was a path of roses. The reek of oil was beyond his simple ken. Nor did he heed the slush, slush of his mule's feet, as the old beast floundered through the lake of oil spread out on all sides about him. The gurgling, the sadly bubbling gusher, even, might have been one of the fairy sounds of night, for all thought he gave to it. No; blind to all things practical as he always was, how was it possible that Scipio, leaving Suffering Creek a poor, struggling prospector, should realize by these outward signs that he had returned to it, possibly, a millionaire? CHAPTER XXXV HOME Scipio stood in the doorway of his hut with a hopelessly dazed look in his pale eyes and a perplexed frown upon his brow. He had just returned from Minky's store, whither he had been to fetch his twins home. He had brought them with him, leading them, one in each hand. And at sight of their mother they had torn themselves free from their father's detaining hands and rushed at her. Jessie, strangely subdued, but with a wonderful light of happiness in her eyes, was in the midst of "turning out" the bedroom. She had spent the whole morning cleaning and garnishing with a vigor, with a heartwhole enjoyment, such as never in all her married life had she displayed before. And now, as the children rushed at her, their piping voices shrieking their joyous greeting, she hugged them to her bosom as though she would squeeze their precious lives out of them. She laughed and cried at the same time in a way that only women in the throes of unspeakable joy can. Her words, too, were incoherent, as incoherent as the babble of the children themselves. It was a sight of mother-love rarely to be witnessed, a sight which, under normal conditions, must have filled the simple heart of Scipio with a joy and happiness quite beyond words. But just now it left him untouched, and as he silently looked on he passed one hand helplessly across his forehead. He pushed his hat back so that his stubby fingers could rake amongst his yellow hair. And Jessie, suddenly looking up from the two heads nestling so close against her bosom, realized the trouble in her husband's face. Her realization came with a swiftness that would have been impossible in those old days of discontent.