第 四十五 章 · BOOK III CHAPTER XIX

"The water's beginning to run, boys," said the Halfbreed. "A few more

days and we'll be able to start sluicing."

The news was like a flood of sunshine to us. For days we had been fixing

up the boxes and getting everything in readiness. The sun beat strongly

on the snow, which almost visibly seemed to retreat before it. The

dazzlingly white surface was crisp and flaky, and around the tree boles

curving hollows had formed. Here and there brown earth peered nakedly

through. Every day the hillside runnels grew in strength.

We were working at the mouth of a creek down which ran a copious little

stream all through the Springtime. We tapped it some distance above us,

and ran part of it along our line of sluice-boxes. These boxes went

between our two dumps, so that it was easy to shovel in from both sides.

Nothing could have been more convenient.

At last, after a day of hot sunshine, we found quite a freshet of water

coming down the boxes, leaping and dancing in the morning light. I

remember how I threw in the first shovelful of dirt, and how good it was

to see the bright stream discolour as our friend the water began his

magic work. For three days we shovelled in, and on the fourth we made a

clean-up.

"I guess it's time," said Jim, "or those riffles will be gettin' choked

up."

And, sure enough, when we ran off the water there were some of them

almost full of the yellow metal, wet and shiny, gloriously agleam in the

morning light.

"There's ten thousand dollars if there's an ounce," said the Company's

man, and the weigh-up proved he was right. So the gold was packed in two

long buckskin pokes and sent into town to be deposited in the bank.

Day after day we went on shovelling in, and about twice a week we made a

clean-up. The month of May was half over when we had only a third of our

dirt run through the boxes. We were terribly afraid of the water failing

us, and worked harder than ever. Indeed, it was difficult to tell when

to leave off. The nights were never dark now; the daylight was over

twenty hours in duration. The sun described an ellipse, rising a little

east of north and setting a little west of north. We shovelled in till

we were too exhausted to lift another ounce. Then we lay down in our

clothes and slept as soon as we touched the pillow.

"There's eighty thousand to our credit in the bank, and only a third of

our dump's gone. Hooray, boys!" said the Prodigal.

About one o'clock in the morning the birds began to sing, and the sunset

glow had not faded from the sky ere the sunrise quickened it with life

once more. Who that has lived in the North will ever forget the charm,

the witchery of those midnight skies, where the fires of the sun are

banked and never cold? Surely, long after all else is forgotten, will

linger the memory of those mystic nights with all their haunting spell

of weird, disconsolate solitude.

One afternoon I was working on the dump, intent on shovelling in as much

dirt as possible before supper, when, on looking up, who should greet me

but Locasto. Since our last interview in town I had not seen him, and,

somehow, this sudden sight of him came as a kind of a shock. Yet the

manner of the man as he approached me was hearty in the extreme. He held

out his great hand to me, and, as I had no desire to antagonise him, I

gave him my own.

He was riding. His big, handsome face was bronzed, his black eyes clear

and sparkling, his white teeth gleamed like mammoth ivory. He certainly

was a dashing, dominant figure of a man, and, in spite of myself, I

admired him.

His manner in his salutation was cordial, even winning.

"I've just been visiting some of my creek properties," he said. "I heard

you fellows had made a good strike, and I thought I'd come down and

congratulate you. It is pretty good, isn't it?"

"Yes," I said; "not quite so good as we expected, but we'll all have a

tidy sum."

"I'm glad. Well, I suppose you'll go outside this Fall."

"No, I think I'll stay in. You see, we've the Gold Hill property, which

looks promising; and then we have two claims on Ophir."

"Oh, Ophir! I don't think you'll ever take a fortune out of Ophir. I

bought a claim there the other day. The man pestered me, so I gave him

five thousand for it, just to get rid of him. It's eight below."

"Why," I said, "that's the claim I staked and got beaten out of."

"You don't say so. Well, now, that's too bad. I bought it from a man

named Spankiller; his brother's a clerk in the gold office. Tell you

what I'll do. I'll let you have it for the five thousand I gave for it."

"No," I answered, "I don't think I want it now."

"All right; think it over, anyway. If you should change your mind, let

me know. Well, I must go. I've got to get into town to-night. That's my

mule-train back there on the trail. I've got pretty nearly ten thousand

ounces over there."

I looked and saw the mules with the gold-packs slung over their backs.

There were four men to guard them, and it seemed to me that in one of

these men I recognised the little wizened figure of the Worm.

I shivered.

"Yes, I've done pretty well," he continued; "but it don't make any

difference. I spend it as fast as I get it. A month ago I didn't have

enough ready cash to pay my cigar bill, yet I could have gone to the

bank and borrowed a hundred thousand. It was there in the dump. Oh, it's

a rum business this mining. Well, good-bye."

He was turning to go when, suddenly, he stopped.

"Oh, by the way, I saw a friend of yours before I left. No need to

mention names, you lucky dog. When's the big thing coming off? Well, I

must congratulate you again. She looks sweeter than ever. Bye-bye."

He was off, leaving a very sinister impression on my mind. In his

parting smile there was a trace of mockery that gravely disquieted me. I

had thought much of Berna during the past few months, but as the gold

fever took hold of me I put her more and more from my mind. I told

myself that all this struggle was for her. In the thought that she was

safe I calmed all anxious fear. Sometimes by not thinking so much of

dear ones, one can be more thoughtful of them. So it was with me. I knew

that all my concentration of effort was for her sake, and would bring

her nearer to me. Yet at Locasto's words all my old longing and

heartache vehemently resurged.

In spite of myself, I was the prey of a growing uneasiness. Things

seemed vastly different, now success had come to me. I could not bear to

think of her working in that ambiguous restaurant, rubbing shoulders

with its unspeakable habitues. I wondered how I had ever deceived myself

into thinking it was all right. I began to worry, so that I knew only a

trip into Dawson would satisfy me. Accordingly, I hired a big Swede to

take my place at the shovel, and set out once more on the hillside trail

for town.