Part 19 (1/2)

”Where?” cried Abel. ”Why, we had better have stayed and washed gold-dust out of the sand up one of those streams.”

”Oh, you mustn't judge of a place first sight; but I must say it aren't pretty. People seems to chuck everything they don't want out o' doors, like the fisher folk down at home in Cornwall. But it's worse here, for they've got no sea to come up and wash the rubbish away.”

”Nor yet a river,” said Dallas. ”I expected the Yukon to be a grand flowing stream.”

”Well, give it a chance, my son,” said the big fellow cheerily. ”A river can't flow till it begins to thaw a bit. Chap tells me it's very late this year, but it'll break up and clear itself in a few hours.

Says it's a sight worth seeing.”

”But we did not come to see sights,” said Abel peevishly. ”Where's that other man?”

”Gone. Told me to tell you both that he was very grateful for the help you had given him, and that now he's going to s.h.i.+ft for himself.”

”The way of the world!” said Dallas dismally.

”Oh, I don't know, my son. He's right enough. Said if he had the luck to find a good claim up one of the creeks he should peg out five more alongside of it and come and look us up, and made me promise I'd do the same to him. What do you think of that?”

”Nothing,” said Dallas. ”I'm too tired out to think of anything but eating and sleeping, and there seems to be no chance of finding a place to do either.”

”No, my son; it's a case of help yourself. I've been having a look round, and the only thing I can find anybody wants to sell is whisky.”

”Yes, that was all they had at the store I went to. That's the place with the iron roof and the biscuit-tin sides--yonder, where those howling dogs are tied up.”

”Ah, I went there,” said the Cornishman, ”and the Yankee chap it belongs to called it his hotel. But to go back to what we are to do next, my son. We mustn't stay here, but go up to one of the little streams they're talking about, and peg out claims as soon as we find good signs.

Now, I've been thinking, like our chap who lost his knife, that we'd better separate here and go different ways. If we find a good place we'll come to you, and if you find one you'll share with us. What do you say?”

”Tired of our company?” asked Abel bitterly.

The big fellow turned to him and smiled.

”Look here, my son,” he said, ”that foot of yours hurts you more than you owned to. You take my advice; after we've got a bit of a fire and made our camp and cooked our bit o' supper, you make a tin o' water hot and bathe it well, and don't you use that foot much for a day or two.

No, my sons, I'm not tired of you. If I had been I should ha' said good-bye days ago. I'm sorry for us to break up our party, but I've been thinking that what I proposed was the best plan, even if it does sound rough.”

”Yes, I suppose it is,” said Dallas, speaking in a more manly way. ”I beg your pardon. So does my cousin here. We're f.a.gged out, and this does seem such a damper. I wish we were back somewhere in the pine-woods.”

”Tchah! I don't want no pardons begged, my son. I know. When I saw this lovely spot first I felt as if I could sit down and swear; but what good would that ha' done? It'll be all right. Now it seems to me that we shall be more comfort'ble if we go just over yonder away from the hotels and places, make our bit o' fire, get a pannikin of tea, and then two of us'll stop and look after the traps in case any one should come and want to borrow things and we not know where they're gone. T'others had better have a look round and drop in here and there at these places where the men meet. It won't do to be proud out here. I want to see some of the gold.”

”Eh?” cried a big, hearty voice, and a man who was pa.s.sing stopped short and looked at them. ”Want to see some of the gold? Well, there you are!”

He unfastened a strap that went across his breast, and drew a heavy leather satchel from where it hung like a cartouche-box on his back.

”Catch hold,” he cried. ”That's some of the stuff.”

The three awake looked at the stranger sharply, and the Cornishman opened the bag, to lay bare scales, grains, and water-worn and rubbed sc.r.a.ps of rich yellow gold, at the sight of which the new-comers drew their breath hard.

”Did you get this here?” cried Dallas.

”Not here, my lad, but at Upper Creek. That lot and two more like it.

You'd better go on there as soon as you can if you want to take up claims; but I must tell you that all the best are gone already.”