"Why was I so anxious about Berna? I did not know, but with every mile my anxiety increased. A dim unreasoning fear possessed me. I imagined that if anything happened to her I would forever blame myself. I saw her lying white and cold as the snow itself, her face peaceful in death. Why had I not thought more of her? I had not appreciated her enough, her precious sweetness and her tenderness. If only she was spared, I would show her what a good friend I could be. I Would protect her and be near her in case of need. But then how foolish to think anything could have happened to her. The chances were one in hundred. Nevertheless, I hurried forward.
I met the twins. they had just escaped the slide, they told me, and not yet recovered from the shock. A little way back on the trail it was. I would see men digging out the bodies. They had dug out seventeen that morning. Some were crushed as flat as pancakes.
Again, with a pain in my heart, I asked after Berna and her grandfather. Twin number one said they were both buried under the slide. I gasped and was seized with sudden faintness. "No ," said twin number two, "the old man is missing, but the girl has escaped and is nearly crazy with grief. Good-bye."
Once more I hurried on. Gangs of men were shoveling for the dead. Every now and then a shovel would strike a hand or a skull. Then a shout would be raised and the poor misshapen body turned out.
Again I put my inquiries. A busy digger paused in his work. He was a Scottish-looking fellow, and there was something of the glare of a ghoul in his eyes.
"Yes, that must have been the old guy with whiskers they dug out early on from the lower end of the slide. Relative, name of Winkestein, took charge of him. Took him to the tent yonder. Won't let any one go near.
He pointed to a tent on the hillside and it was with a heavy heart I went forward. The poor old man, so gentle, so dignified, with his dream of golden treasure that might bring happiness to others. It was cruel, cruel . . .

-From the "Trail of Ninety Eight" 1910

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