Part 20 (2/2)

”Well, if it's pure gold, such as these nuggets are, it is worth in the neighborhood of twenty dollars an ounce.”

”How many ounces have we?” asked Jerry.

”Well, of course gold is weighed by Troy measure, which goes twelve ounces to the pound, but I have calculated this gold by the standard of sixteen ounces to the pound, and, in three hundred pounds there are forty-eight hundred ounces.”

”And if the gold is worth twenty dollars an ounce that would be--why it would be ninety-six thousand dollars!” exclaimed Fred, who was good at arithmetic.

”Ninety-six thousand dollars!” repeated Jerry, staggered by the amount of so much wealth.

”Of course that is only a rough estimate,” Mr. Baxter hastened to add.

”Well, now we've got it, how are we going to get it home?” asked Fred, when they had stood about a while, contemplating the wealth.

”That's so,” agreed Jerry. ”Three hundred pounds of gold is no light weight to transport over three hundred miles on dog sleds.”

”I think we will distribute it on the four sleds,” said Mr. Baxter. ”It will be safer that way, and not such a load for the dogs. We have used up considerable of our supplies, and we have that much less in weight.

But the gold will more than make up for it.”

They were so excited over their good fortune that they scarcely thought of eating, and they were startled when Johnson put his head in the opening of the cave, and announced that dinner was ready.

”All right,” answered Mr. Baxter. ”We've found the gold, George.”

”Has yo' really, Ma.s.sa Baxter? Am it a million dollars?”

”Far from it, George.”

The colored man seemed disappointed. Mr. Baxter did not think it wise to tell him just how much it was, nor did he want him or the Indian to catch sight of the yellow nuggets. They might not be able to stand the sight of so much wealth. So the sacks were covered with some fur robes, and, while Mr. Baxter remained on guard, Fred and Jerry went to eat.

Then they relieved Mr. Baxter, and, with ready rifles, waited until he had finished his meal.

The short day was soon at an end, and Mr. Baxter, having sent the Indian away from camp, to bring in a supply of firewood, began, with the aid of the boys and Johnson, to pile the gold securely on the sleds.

”We'll start for the south in the morning,” announced Mr. Baxter, ”and glad I am to be able to do it, too. This cold seems to get through to my very bones.”

As the last of the gold was being put on the sleds, Fred saw, peering over the edge of an ice-covered rock, the face of an Alaskan Indian.

”h.e.l.lo, Holfax!” he cried. ”What are you coming that way for?”

But, to his surprise, the figure vanished, and, a moment later, Holfax appeared, coming from a different direction.

”Why--why--that's funny,” remarked Fred.

”What is?” asked Mr. Baxter.

”I thought I saw Holfax looking at me from up there, and here he comes down there.”

No sooner had he spoken than there was a cry from the guide. The eyes of the four adventurers were drawn toward him, and, as they watched, they saw another Indian rush at Holfax, take quick aim with a rifle, and fire.

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