It just happens that the gold is there.

You wouldn't guess that for more than forty years that blessed old wanderer ahead of us has loved a dead woman, would you?
You wouldn't think that for nearly half a century, year in and year out, winter and summer alike, he has tramped the northern mountains--a lost spirit with but one desire in life--to find at last her resting-place?
And yet it is so, Ladygray.

I guess I am the only living creature to whom he has opened his heart in many a long year.

A hundred times beside our campfire I have listened to him, until at last his story seems almost to be a part of my own.

He may be a little mad, but it is a beautiful madness." He paused.
"Yes," whispered Joanne.