Part 16 (2/2)

”Set by now an' ate, an' Oi'll show ye thim--the two av moine, an' th'

twilve av Car-rlson's an' Pete Mateese's.”

The meal over, O'Brien loosened a cleverly concealed wedge that held in place a stone which served as a door to a small compartment, about eighteen inches square and three feet deep, that had been chiselled into the copper on a level with the floor.

”'Tis th' safe,” he grinned. ”Foire proof, an' bhurglar proof, too, av ye don't know th' combynation, fer wid th' little wedge in place, th'

more ye pryze on th' rock th' toighter ut shticks.”

Pus.h.i.+ng the stone aside, the man reached into the interior and, one at a time, removed fourteen tin cans, which he carefully deposited upon the floor. Over the top of each, serving as a cover, and concealing the contents from view, was bound a piece of caribou skin, smoke-dried, with the hair on.

Connie reached for a can, but to his surprise it remained motionless as if nailed to the floor. It seemed incredible to the boy that such great weight could be encompa.s.sed within so small a s.p.a.ce, and it was only at the expense of considerable effort that he succeeded in raising it to his lap. Cutting the thongs, he removed the cover and there, showing yellow and dull in the guttering flare of the blubber lamp, was gold!

O'Brien spread an empty pack-sack and the boy poured the contents of the can upon it, and with his fingers levelled the golden pyramid. Before him lay nuggets, flat, dark flakes of ”float,” and bright yellow grains of ”dust”--hand-shovelled, and hand-sluiced from the hot, wet sands of the Ignatook. Waseche Bill stared speechless at the row of skin-covered cans, at the pile of yellow metal, and back to the row of cans. For years this man had toiled and mucked among the placers of the gold fields, had sunk deep shafts, and shallow; had tunnelled, and drifted, and sloshed about in ice-cold muddy creek beds, but in all the years of toil and hards.h.i.+p and peril, he had never gazed upon a sight like this.

Even Ten Bow, with its rich drift sands, was a barren desert in comparison with this El Dorado of the frozen waste.

”Nine thousan' dollahs a can--mebbe ten,” he estimated, in an awed voice. ”No wondeh Carlson came back!” He turned to O'Brien:

”How deep was his shafts?”

”Shafts!” exclaimed the Irishman, ”sure, they ain't no shafts! Ye dam off a puddle av wather phwer uts shallow an' throw in a chunk av oice to cool ut, an' thin ye wade in an' shovel ut into ye're sluices.”

”An' wateh the yeah around!” cried Waseche.

”Aye, an' no dumps to wor-rk out in th' shpring--ye clane up as ye go.

Wan shovel is good f'r a can, or a can an' a half a month.”

The idea of a man measuring his dust by the forty-pound can, instead of by the ounce, was new, and Waseche Bill laughed--a short, nervous laugh of excitement.

”Come on! Shove them cans back in the hole an' le's go stake ouh claims.

Yo' done stoke yo'n, ain't yo', O'Brien?”

”Oi've shtaked nawthin'! Oi jist scooped ut out here an' there, phwere their claims wasn't. Oi want none av this counthry! Oi've had enough av ut as ut is! Oi won't shtay wan minit longer thin Oi've got to--not av Oi c'n shovel out pure gold be th' scoopful! Oi want to be war-rm wanst more, an' live loike a civiloized Christian shud live, wid a pig an' a cow, an' a bit av a gar-rden.

”Ye'll not be thinkin' av shtayin' here?” he asked anxiously.

”No, O'Brien,” answered Waseche, ”not _this_ trip. But we ah goin' to stake ouh claims an' then, lateh, why me an' th' kid heah--we ah comin'

back!”

”Come back av ye want to,” said O'Brien with a shrug. ”But luk out ye don't come back wanst too often. Phwere's Car-rlson, an' Pete Mateese?

Thim's min that come back! An' wait till ye see th' skulls an' the bones along th' gravel at th' edge av th' wather--thim wuz min, too, wanst--they come back. An' luk at _me_! Four av us come in be way av Peel River--an' three av us is dead--an' many's th' toime Oi've wisht Oi wuz wan av thim.” O'Brien replaced the stone, and the three turned their attention to their surroundings. One side of the room was piled to the ceiling with the caribou venison and fish of which O'Brien had spoken.

They also found a sled and a complete set of harness for a six-dog team--Carlson's six dogs that had found their way into the boiling pots of the White Indians. Scattered about the stone floor lay numerous curiously shaped stone and copper implements, evidently the mining tools of a primitive race of people, and among these Connie also found ancient weapons of ivory and bone.

Slowly they made their way toward the entrance, pausing now and then to examine the rough walls of the tunnel which had been laboriously driven through the ma.s.s of copper ore.

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