The Project Gutenberg eBook of Klondike Nuggets, by E. S. Ellis

THE TELL-TALE FOOTPRINTS.

The boys took several minutes to study the impressions, which appeared in a number of places. The inspection brought an interesting truth to light. One set of imprints was large, and the right shoe or boot had a broken patch on the sole, which showed when the ground was more yielding than usual. The others were noticeably smaller, and the toes pointed almost straight forward, like those of an American Indian. A minute examination of the soil failed to bring any other peculiarity to light. The conclusion, therefore, was that only two men were concerned in the robbery.

The problem now assumed a phase which demanded brain work, and the youths met it with a skill that did them credit. The question was:

"If the burro was loaded with the gold at this point, or if he was brought hither, which amounts to the same thing, where did he and the thieves leave the enclosure?"

Neither of the boys had ever felt enough interest in the animal to make an inspection of his pasturage ground, and therefore knew nothing about it, but scrutinizing the boundaries, they fixed upon two gaps or openings on the farther side, both leading deeper into the mountains, one of which they believed had been used.

"Let's try the nearest," said Roswell, leading the way across the comparatively level space.

There the ground was higher, fairly dry and gravelly. A close scrutiny failed to reveal any signs of disturbance, and forced them to conclude that some other outlet had been taken. They made haste to the second.

This was drier and more gravelly than the other. While the soil seemed to have been disturbed, they could not make sure whether or not it was by the hoofs of an animal, but Frank caught sight of something on a projecting point of a rock, just in front. Stepping forward, he plucked it off, and held it up in the light. It consisted of a dozen dark, coarse hairs.

"That's where the burro scraped against the rock," he said. "We are on their path."

In their eagerness they would have kept beside each other had not the passage been so narrow. Often they came to places where one would have declared it impossible for a mule or donkey to make his way, but there could be no question that the property of Jeff Graham had done it. Frequently he slipped, and must have come near falling, but he managed to keep forward with his precious load.

Less than two hundred yards distant the pursuers came to a depression of the soil where it was damp, and the footprints of the donkey and the two men were as distinct as if made in putty. There could be no question that the boys were on the trail of the despoilers.

As they advanced, Frank, who was in advance; frequently turned his head and spoke in guarded tones over his shoulder to his cousin.

"They are pushing into the mountains," said he, "but there's no saying how far they are ahead of us."

"No; if they made the start early in the morning, it would give them a big advantage."

"I believe that is what they did, knowing there was no danger of our returning until night."

"That knowledge may have made them slow. Anyhow, they are not travelling as fast as we, and we must overtake them before long."

A few minutes later Frank asked:

"Do you believe they have thought of being followed?"

"They must know there is danger of it. They will fight to keep that gold, and if they get the first sight of us will shoot."

"They may have revolvers, but I don't believe either has a rifle. We will keep a lookout that we don't run into them before we know it and give them the advantage."

This dread handicapped the boys to some extent. The trail was not distinctly marked, often winding and precipitous, and compelling them to halt and examine the ground and consult as to their course.

While thus engaged, they awoke to the fact that they had gone astray and were not following the trail at all.

CHAPTER XX.

A SOUND FROM OUT THE STILLNESS.

The error occurred in this way: The trail that the boys had been assiduously following was so faintly marked that the wonder was they did not go astray sooner. In many places, there was little choice as to the route, because it was so broken and crossed that one was as distinct as the other. Nevertheless, Frank pressed on with scarcely any hesitation, until he again reached a depression where the soft ground failed to show the slightest impression of shoe or hoof.

"My gracious!" he exclaimed, stopping short and looking at his companion; "how far can we have gone wrong?"

"We can find out only by returning," replied Roswell, wheeling about and leading the way back.

They walked more hurriedly than before, as a person naturally does who feels that time is precious, and he has wasted a good deal of it.

The search might have been continued for a long time but for a surprising and unexpected aid that came to them. They had halted at one of the broken places, in doubt whither to turn, and searching for some sign to guide them, when Roswell called out:

"That beats anything I ever saw!"

As he spoke, he stooped and picked up something from the ground. Inspecting it for a moment, he held it up for Frank to see. It was a large nugget of pure gold.

"These mountains must be full of the metal," said Frank, "when we find it lying loose like that."

"Not so fast," remarked his companion, who had taken the nugget again, and was turning it over and examining it minutely. "Do you remember that?"

On one of the faces of the gold something had been scratched with the point of a knife. While the work was inartistic, it was easy to make out the letters "F. M."

"I think I remember that," said Frank; "it is one of the nuggets I found yesterday, and marked it with my initials. Those folks must have dropped it."

There could be no doubt of it. What amazing carelessness for a couple of men to drop a chunk of gold worth several hundred dollars and not miss it!

It must have been that the mouth of the canvas bag containing the nuggets had become opened in some way to the extent of allowing a single one to fall out.

"I wonder how many more have been lost," mused Frank, as he put the specimen in his pocket.

At any rate, it served to show the right course to follow, and the boys pressed on, looking more for nuggets than for their enemies. The mishap must have been discovered by the men in time to prevent its repetition, for nothing of the kind again met the eyes of the youths, who once more gave their attention to hunting for the lawless men that had despoiled them of so much property.

The trail steadily ascended, so broken and rough that it was a source of constant wonderment how the burro was able to keep his feet. He must have had some experience in mountain climbing before, in order to play the chamois so well.

The boys fancied they could feel the change of temperature on account of the increased elevation. They knew they were a good many feet above the starting-point, though at no time were they able to obtain a satisfactory view of the country they were leaving behind. They seemed to be continually passing in and out among the rocks and bowlders, which circumscribed their field of vision. Considerable pine and hemlock grew on all sides, but as yet they encountered no snow. There was plenty of it farther up and beyond, and it would not take them long to reach the region where eternal winter reigned.

A short way along the new course, and they paused before another break; but although the ground was dry and hard, it was easy to follow the course of the burro, whose hoofs told the story; and though nothing served to indicate that the men were still with him, the fact of the three being in company might be set down as self-evident.

It would not be dark until nearly 10 o'clock, so the pursuers still had a goodly number of hours before them.

A peculiar fact annoyed the boys more than would be supposed. The trail was continually winding in and out, its turns so numerous that rarely or never were they able to see more than a few rods in advance. In places the winding was incessant. The uncertainty as to how far they were behind the donkey and the men made the lads fear that at each turn as they approached it, they would come upon the party, who, perhaps, might be expecting them, and would thus take them unprepared. The dread of something like this often checked the boys and seriously retarded their progress.

"We may as well understand one thing," said Frank, as they halted again; "you have heard Jeff tell about getting the drop on a man, Roswell?"

"Yes; everybody knows what that means."

"Well, neither Mr. Hardman, nor his friend, nor both of them will ever get the drop on us."

The flashing eyes and determined expression left no doubt of the lad's earnestness.

"Is that because you carry a Winchester and they have only their revolvers?"

"It would make no difference if both of them had rifles."

Roswell was thoughtful.

"It is very well, Frank, to be brave, but there's nothing gained by butting your head against a stone wall. Suppose, now, that, in passing the next bend in this path, you should see Hardman waiting for you with his gun aimed, and he should call out to you to surrender, what would you do?"

"Let fly at him as quickly as I could raise my gun to a level."

"And he would shoot before you could do that."

"I'll take the chances," was the rash response.

"I hope you will not have to take any chances like that—"

They were talking as usual in low tones, and no one more than a few feet away could have caught the murmur of their voices, but while Roswell was uttering his words, and before he could complete his sentence, the two heard a sound, so faint that neither could guess its nature.

As nearly as they were able to judge, it was as if some person, in walking, had struck his foot against an obstruction. It came from a point in front, and apparently just beyond the first bend in the trail, over which they were making their way.

WATCHING AT THE TURN IN THE TRAIL.

"We are nearer to them than we suspected," whispered Roswell.

"And they don't know it, or they wouldn't have betrayed themselves in that manner."

"It isn't safe to take that for granted."

Roswell, after the last change in their course, was at the front. Frank now quietly moved beyond him, Winchester in hand, and ready for whatever might come. Confident they were close upon the men they sought, he was glad of the misstep that had warned them of the fact.

There certainly could be no excuse now for Hardman and his companion securing the advantage over the boys, when one of them held his Winchester half raised to his shoulder and ready to fire.

Within a couple of paces of the turn in the trail the two were almost lifted off their feet by a sound that burst from the stillness, startling enough to frighten the strongest man. It was the braying of the burro, not fifty feet distant.

CHAPTER XXI.

A TURNING OF THE TABLES.

The boys were in no doubt as to the author of this startling break in the mountain stillness. It was their own burro that had given out the unearthly roar, and they were confident of being close upon the trail of the two men who were making off with the gold. But a moment later, round the corner in front of them, the donkey's head came into view, his long ears flapping, as if training themselves for the fight with mosquitoes that would soon come. The animal was walking slowly, but the astonishing fact immediately appeared that he was not only without any load on his back, but was unaccompanied by either Hardman or his confederate.

Suspecting, however, they were close behind him, the boys held their places, the foremost still on the alert for the criminals. The burro came forward until within a rod, when he seemed to become aware for the first time of the presence of the youths in his path. He halted, twiddled his rabbit-like ears, looked at the two, and then opened his mouth. The flexible lips fluttered and vibrated with a second tremendous bray, which rolled back and forth among the mountains, the wheezing addendum more penetrating than the first part of the outburst.

As the animal showed a disposition to continue his advance, the boys stepped aside and he came slowly forward, as if in doubt whether he was doing a prudent thing; but he kept on, and, passing both, continued down the trail, evidently anxious to return to his pasturage.

"What does it mean?" asked Roswell.

"I have no idea, unless—"

"What?"

"They can't make any further use of the burro, and have allowed him to go home."

"But they can't carry away all the gold."

"Then they are burying it. Let's hurry on, or we shall be too late."

Lowering his Winchester, Frank led the way up the trail, slackening his pace as he reached the bend, and partly raising his weapon again.

Rocks and bowlders were all around, but the trail still showed, and the donkey could have travelled indefinitely forward, so far as the boys could see. Nowhere was anything detected of the two men.

"They may have turned the burro loose a half mile off," said Frank, chagrined and disappointed beyond expression.

His companion warned him to be careful, as he began pushing forward at a reckless rate, as if fearful that the men would get away after all.

Just beyond the point where the burro had appeared the path forked, each course being equally distinct. The boys scrutinized the ground, but could not decide from what direction the animal had come. Had they possessed the patience, they might have settled the question by kneeling down and making their scrutiny more minute; but Frank could not wait.

"I'll take the right," he said, "while you follow the left. If you discover either of them, shoot and shout for me."

It may be doubted whether this was wise counsel, and Roswell did not feel himself bound by it, but he acted at once upon the suggestion. His weapon was in his grasp as he hurried over the path, and the cousins were quickly lost to each other.

The inspiring incentive to both boys was the dread that they were too late to recover the gold that had been stolen. Since its weight was too great for a couple of men to carry, the natural presumption was that they had buried or would bury it in some secure place, and return when it was safe to take it away.

Because of this, Roswell Palmer sharply scrutinized every part of his field of vision as it opened before him. There were numerous breaks in the path which permitted him to look over a space of several rods, and again he could not see six feet from him.

Reaching an earthy part of the trail, he leaned over and studied it. There was no sign of a hoof or footprint.

"The burro did not come this far," was his conclusion; "I am wasting time by wandering from Frank."

He was in doubt whether to turn or to advance farther. He had paused among the bowlders, where little was visible, and, convinced of his mistake, he shoved his weapon back in his pocket, so as to give him the freer use of his hands, and turned back over the trail along which he had just come.

He had not taken a dozen steps when he was checked by the most startling summons that could come to him. It was a gruff "Hands up, younker!"

"HANDS UP, YOUNKER!"

It will be recalled that Roswell was less headstrong than his cousin, as he now demonstrated by his prompt obedience to the command, which came from an immense rock at the side of the path, partly behind him.

Having elevated his hands, the youth turned to look at his master. One glance at the countenance was sufficient. He was the individual whom Frank had seen secretly talking with Hardman on the boat that carried them from the head to the foot of Lake Lindeman, and whom both had seen on the day of their arrival in this neighborhood.

Roswell Palmer now displayed a quickness of wit that would have done credit to an older head. His revolver he had placed in a pocket on the side of him that was turned away from the man, and it will be remembered that the lad had placed it there before receiving the peremptory summons to surrender. In the hope that his captor was not aware that he carried any firearms, Roswell kept that part of his body farthest from him.

The man was standing at the side of the rock with a similar weapon in his grasp, and showed that he was elated over the clever manner in which he had gotten the best of the youth. His own weapon was not pointed at him, but held so that it could be raised and used on the instant.

"What do you mean by treating me thus when I am walking peaceably through the mountains, offering harm to no one?" asked Roswell with an injured air.

"What are you doing here anyway?" demanded the other, whose unpleasant face indicated that he did not fully grasp the situation.

"My friend and I set out to look for some men that have stolen our gold. Have you seen them?"

This sounded as if the boy had no suspicion of the fellow before him, and taking his cue therefrom, he said:

"No; I don't know anything about it. Did they jump your claim?"

"We had the gold among the rocks where we live, but when we came home to-day, we found that some persons had been there and taken it all."

Something seemed to strike the man as very amusing. He broke into laughter.

"You can put down your hands, my son, if you're getting tired."

"You won't shoot?" asked Roswell in pretended alarm.

"Not much," replied the other, with a laugh; "I haven't a charge in my weapon nor a single cartridge with me; but all the same, I'll keep an eye on you."

"Not doubting your word, I have to inform you that my pistol is loaded, and I now shall take charge of you."

As he spoke, Roswell produced his weapon, and the other was at his mercy.

CHAPTER XXII.

A LION IN THE PATH.

To put it mildly, the man was astonished. Not dreaming the boy was armed, he had been foolish enough to announce that he had brought him to terms by the display of a useless weapon. He stared in amazement at Roswell, and then elevated both hands. The boy laughed.

"You needn't do that; I am not afraid of you. If you will lead me to the spot where you and Hardman hid our gold, I will set you free."

"I don't know anything about your gold," whimpered the fellow, who now proved himself a coward. "I was only joking with you."

"You and he took it. I shall hold you a prisoner until my friend comes up, and then turn you over to the mounted police."

"All right; if it is a square deal, follow me."

He turned and darted behind the rock. The youth made after him, but when he came in sight of the fugitive again he was fifty feet distant, and running like a deer. Perhaps Roswell might have winged him, but he did not try to do so. He felt a natural repugnance to doing a thing of that nature, and the fact was self-evident that it would do no good. The man would sturdily insist that he knew nothing of the missing gold, and there could be no actual proof that he did. Had he been held a prisoner he might have been forced to terms, but it was too late now to think of that, and the youth stood motionless and saw him disappear among the rocks.

"I wonder how Frank has made out," was his thought. "He can't have done worse than I."

Meanwhile, young Mansley had no idle time on his hands. He had hurried up the fork of the trail, after parting with his companion, until he had passed about the same distance. The two paths, although diverging, did not do so to the extent the boys thought, and thus it came about that they were considerably nearer each other than they supposed.

It need not be said that Frank was on the alert. Suspecting he was in the vicinity of the men for whom they were searching, he paid no attention to the ground, but glanced keenly to the right and left, and even behind him. He was thus engaged when something moved beside a craggy mass of rocks a little way ahead and slightly to the right of the path he was following. A second look showed the object to be a man, and though his back was toward the lad, his dress and general appearance left little doubt that he was Hardman.

His attitude was that of listening. His shoulders were thrown slightly forward, and he gave a quick flirt of his head, which brought his profile for the moment into view. This removed all doubt as to his identity. It was Ike Hardman.

Frank's first thought was that he was standing near the spot where the gold had been secreted, and was looking around to make sure no one saw him, but it may have been he heard something of the movements of his confederate that had escaped Roswell Palmer.

Afraid of being detected, Frank crouched behind the nearest bowlder, but was a second too late. Hardman had observed him, and was off like a flash. To Frank's amazement, when he looked for him he was gone.

Determined not to lose him, the youth ran forward as fast as the nature of the ground would permit. Reaching the spot where he had first discovered the man, he glanced at the surroundings, but could see nothing to indicate that the gold had been hidden anywhere near, though the probabilities pointed to such being the fact, for it must have been in that vicinity that the burro was turned free.

But the boy felt the necessity of bringing the man himself to terms, and with scarcely a halt he hurried over the bowlders and around the rocks in what he believed to be the right direction, though he had no certain knowledge that such was the fact.

He was still clambering forward, panting, impatient, and angry, when a figure suddenly came to view a little way in advance. Frank abruptly stopped and brought his gun to a level, but before he could aim he perceived to his amazement that it was his cousin Roswell standing motionless and looking with wonderment around him. A moment later the two came together and hastily exchanged experiences.

"We have made a mess of it," was the disgusted comment of Frank, "for we had them both and let them get away."

"WE HAVE MADE A MESS OF IT," WAS THE DISGUSTED COMMENT OF FRANK.

"All the same we must be near the spot where the gold was hidden, and I believe we can find it by searching."

"We may, but the chances are a hundred to one against it. How strange that those two men carried no firearms!"

It has been shown that the Klondike country is not one of dangerous weapons, because it is well governed, and the necessity, therefore, does not exist for men to go about armed. Many of them unquestionably carry pistols, but larger weapons are few, and the majority have neither, for they only serve as incumbrances. Strange, therefore, as it may seem, Hardman and his companion had but a single revolver between them, and the man who carried that spoke the truth when he said all its chambers were empty and he was without the means of loading it.

The great oversight of the two was that when they entered the cavern and took away the gold, they left the Winchester and revolvers. This may have been due to their eagerness to carry off every ounce of gold, but the commonest prudence would have suggested that they "spike" the weapons, so as to prevent their being used against them.

A brief consultation caused the boys to decide to return to the cavern and await the return of their friends. Then the whole party could take up the search, though it seemed almost hopeless.

Disheartened, they started down the trail, Frank in advance and both silent, for their thoughts were too depressing for expression. Suddenly the leader stopped and raised his hand for his companion to do the same. The cause was apparent, for at that moment, in rounding a bend in the path, they saw Ike Hardman in front, moving stealthily in the same direction with themselves, but the rogue was watchful and caught sight of them at the same moment. As before, he was off like an arrow, the winding trail allowing him to pass from sight in the twinkling of an eye, as may be said.

Before they could take up the pursuit a great commotion broke out below them, and wondering what it could mean, the boys stopped to listen. It immediately became apparent that the fugitive had come in collision with some one approaching from the other direction over the trail, and that same person was gifted with a vigorous voice of which he was making free use.

"Ah, but ye are the spalpeen I've been looking fur! This is the way ye sittle up fur the money ye tuk from me! Mister Hardman, do your bist, for that's what I'm going to do. Do ye hear me?"

"It's Tim!" exclaimed Roswell; "let's hurry to his help!"

But Frank caught his arm.

"It's the other fellow who needs help, and Tim will take it as unkind for us to interfere, but we can look on."

And they hurried forward.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A GENERAL SETTLEMENT OF ACCOUNTS.

Quick as were the boys in hurrying to the point where they heard the indignant Tim, they did not reach it until the affray was over. Wholly subdued, Ike Hardman begged for mercy at the hands of his conqueror, and promised to do anything desired if he received consideration.

It is a well-known fact that the wrath of a good-natured person is more to be feared than his who is of less equable temperament. The boys had never seen Tim McCabe in so dangerous a mood. He and Jeff Graham had returned to the cavern shortly after the departure of the cousins in pursuit of the thieves, and it did not take them long to understand what had occurred. They set out over the same trail, along which they readily discovered the footprints of all the parties. Tim, in his angry impatience, outsped his more stolid companion, and by good fortune came upon Hardman while in headlong flight down the mountain path.

The latter tried for a time to make it appear that he knew nothing of the abstraction of the gold from the cavern, but Tim would have none of it, and gave him the choice of conducting them to the place where it was concealed or of undergoing "capital punishment." Like the poltroon that he was, Hardman insisted that his companion, Victor Herzog, was the real wrongdoer, but he offered to do what was demanded, only imploring that he should not be harmed for his evil acts.

Tim extended his hand and took the Winchester from Frank Mansley. He knew it was loaded, and he said to his prisoner:

"Lead on, and if ye think it will pay ye to try to git away or play any of yer tricks, why try it, that's all!"

The threat was sufficient to banish all hope from Hardman, who led them along the trail a short way, then turned on to the pile of rocks beside which Frank had seen him standing a short time before.

"There it is!" he said, with an apprehensive glance at his captor.

"Where?" thundered Tim; "I don't see it!"

No digging had been done by the criminals, but a bowlder had been rolled aside, the canvas bags dropped into the opening, and the stone replaced, as he quickly demonstrated.

"Count 'em, Roswell," said Tim.

Both boys leaned over, and moving the heavy sacks about so as not to miss one, announced that all were there.

"And now I s'pose I may go," whined Hardman.

"Not a bit of it. I won't make a target of ye fer this gun, but ye shall remain me prisoner till I turn ye over to the police."

Thereupon Hardman begged so piteously that the boys interceded and asked that he be allowed to go, but Tim sternly bade them hold their peace. The bowlder having been replaced, while he glanced around to fix the locality in his memory, he ordered the captive to precede him down the trail, reminding him at the same time that the first attempt on his part to escape would be followed by the instant discharge of the gun.

Thus, as the long afternoon drew to a close the strange procession wound its way down the mountain, the prisoner in front, his captors directly behind, with Frank and Roswell bringing up the rear. The boys talked in whispers, but said nothing to their friend, who was in such a stern mood that they shrank from speaking to him.

They speculated as to the fate of Herzog, the other criminal, who seemed to have effected his escape, but recalled that Jeff Graham was likely to be met somewhere along the path, and it might be that this had occurred with disastrous results to the evil fellow, for it will be remembered that the old miner was one of the few who always carried their revolvers with them.

The expectation of the boys was not disappointed. When about half way down the trail they came upon Jeff, who had his man secure, thanks to the good fortune which gave him an advantage of which he instantly availed himself.

Roswell and Frank thought that when Jeff learned that all the stolen gold had been recovered he would be willing to release the prisoners, but such intention was as far from him as from Tim McCabe. While he had no desire for revenge, he felt it would be wrong to set the evil-doers free, and he knew that they would receive the punishment they had well earned as soon as placed within the power of the law.

It was beginning to grow dark when the party reached their cabin. Just before reaching it they crossed the pasturage ground of the burro, who was seen quietly browsing, as if he had not taken any part and felt no interest in the proceedings of the afternoon.

Halting in front of the opening, Jeff said to Tim:

"You have the gun and know it's a repeater."

The Irishman nodded his head.

"Keep guard over these fellows till I come back; it won't be long."

"I'll do the same—on that ye may depind."

TIM AND HIS PRISONERS.

The massive figure swung off in the gloom. He gave no intimation of whither he was going, and no one could guess, except that he promised shortly to return.

A few minutes after his departure, both Hardman and Herzog renewed their pleadings for mercy—for at least they suspected the cause of the old miner's departure—but Tim checked them so promptly that they held their peace.

At his suggestion, the boys started a fire and began preparing supper. They had hardly completed the task when Jeff Graham reappeared and he brought two companions with him. Though they were on foot, they were members of the mounted police, whose horses were but a short distance away. In the discharge of their duties, they were on a tour among the diggings to learn whether there was any call for their services. Jeff had seen them during the afternoon, and knew where to look for them.

There was no nonsense about those sturdy fellows. They made their living by compelling obedience to the laws of their country, and were always prepared to do their duty. At the suggestion of Jeff, they questioned the men, who admitted their guilt, supplementing the confession with another appeal for clemency. Without deigning a reply, the officers slipped handcuffs upon them, and declining the invitation to remain to supper, departed with their prisoners, whom they delivered to the authorities at Dawson City on the following day. Since they had admitted their guilt, our friends were not required to appear as witnesses, and the case may be closed by the statement that Hardman and Herzog received the full punishment which they deserved.

When the evening meal was finished, the men and boys remained outside in the cool, clear air, the former smoking their pipes, and all discussing the stirring events of the day. The boys confessed their neglect in failing to make known the presence of Herzog in the neighborhood, because the fact was driven from their minds by their excitement over the discovery of gold.

"Had we done as we ought," said Frank, "it isn't likely this would have happened."

"You are right," replied Jeff, "for we should have been more watchful."

"And wasn't it oursilves that was careless, anyway, in laying so much wilth where any one could git at the same?" asked Tim.

"Yes," admitted the old miner, "but things are different here from what they was in the early days in Californy, and you can see that these two men are the only ones that would steal our stuff."

"At prisint they saam to be the only ones, but we can't be sure that ithers wouldn't have tried to do the same."

"Well, boys," was the surprising announcement of Jeff Graham, "to-morrow we leave this place for good and take the next steamer down the Yukon for home; our hunt for gold is done!"

CHAPTER XXIV.

CONCLUSION.

There was little sleep that night in the cavern home of the gold-seekers. The fact that the whole crop of the precious stuff was the better part of a mile away in the mountains, even though apparently safe, caused every one to feel uneasy. In addition was the announcement of Jeff Graham, the leader, that their work in the Klondike region was ended. In keeping with his habit of making known only that which was necessary, he gave no explanation, and his friends were left to speculate and surmise among themselves. All, however, suspected the truth.

At early dawn Tim McCabe and the boys started up the trail, leading the burro. The old miner remained behind, saying that he expected company and his help was not needed in recovering the pilfered gold. The anxiety of the men and boys did not lessen until they reached the well-remembered spot and found the canvas bags intact. They were carefully loaded upon the strong back of the animal, secured in place, and the homeward journey begun. Frank and Roswell walked at the rear, to make sure none of the gold was lost. In due time they reached their primitive home, with all their wealth in hand.

To their surprise, Jeff was absent. The recent experience of the three confirmed them in their resolution not to leave the nuggets and dust unguarded for a single hour. While some were at work in the diggings, one at least would be at the cavern on the watch against dishonest visitors. It was agreed that Tim and Roswell should go to the little valley to resume work, while Frank with the Winchester and smaller weapon acted as sentinel.

As the two were on the point of setting out, Jeff Graham appeared with two well-dressed gentlemen, both in middle life. They were talking earnestly, and halted just beyond earshot to complete what they had to say. Then, without waiting to be introduced to Jeff's friends, they bade him good-day, and hurried down the path to where their horses were waiting, and lost no time in returning to Dawson City.

"Get ready to foller," was the curt command of Jeff; and within the following hour the whole party, including the donkey, were on the road. They were compelled to spend one of the short nights in camp, but reached Dawson City without the slightest molestation from any one or the loss of a dollar's worth of gold. As Jeff had announced his intention, they brought away only their auriferous harvest and such clothing as was on their bodies. At the hotel he held another long interview with the two gentlemen who had called on him at the diggings; and the first steamer down the Yukon, which was now fairly open, bore among its hundreds of passengers Jeff Graham, Tim McCabe, Roswell Palmer, and Frank Mansley. The combined gold of the fortunate passengers on that trip must have amounted to nearly a million dollars.

Some weeks later Jeff and Tim were seated alone in one of the rooms at the Palace Hotel, San Francisco. They had met by appointment to close up the business which had taken them into the Klondike region.

"You know, Tim," said the old miner, "that this whole thing was my own."

Tim nodded his head.

"I was aware of the same before ye mentioned it. Ye paid all our ixpenses like a gintleman, and we're entitled to fair wages for hilping and no more."

The generous disavowal of all claim to a share in the rich find touched Jeff, who hastened to say:

"Some folks might think that way, but I don't. It was a speculation on my part. It didn't cost much to get us to the Klondike, and so that don't count. I have delivered to the mint all the gold we brought back, and have been paid one hundred and twenty thousand dollars for it. You know what was done by the two men that visited us at the diggings?"

"The byes and mesilf had the idea that they bought out your claim."

"That's it. I was anxious to get out of the country before the summer fairly set in and the mosquitoes ate us up alive. From the way the dirt panned out, we should have been millionaires in a few weeks, but we had enough. There ain't many men as know when they have enough," was the philosophical observation of Jeff. "I do, so I sold my claim for a hundred and eighty thousand dollars. As I figure out, that makes the total three hundred thousand dollars, which, divided among us four, gives each seventy-five thousand dollars. How does that strike you, Tim?"

"It almost knocks me off my chair, if you mean it."

"The boys being under age, I have turned over their shares to their parents; and do you know," added Jeff, with an expression of disgust, "they both fixed things so as to go to college? You wouldn't believe it, but it's the fact. Howsumever, it's their business, and I ain't saying anything. Say, Tim, you hain't any idea of going to college?" asked Jeff, looking across at his friend with a startled expression.

"SAY, TIM, YOU HAIN'T ANY IDEA OF GOING TO COLLEGE, HAVE YOU?"

"I won't unless ye will go wid me. How does that strike ye?"

Jeff's shoulders bobbed up and down with silent laughter, and immediately he became serious again.

"As soon as you sign this paper, Tim, I shall give you a certified check for seventy-five thousand dollars on the Bank of Californy. Are you ready to sign?"

"I'll sign me own death warrant for that trifle," replied Tim, his rosy face aglow, as he caught up the pen.

"Read it first."

His friend read:

"I, Timothy McCabe, hereby pledge my sacred honor not to taste a drop of malt or spirituous liquor, even on the advice of a physician who may declare it necessary to save my life, from the date of the signing of this pledge until the Fourth of July, one thousand nine hundred and seven."

As Tim gathered the meaning of the words on the paper, his eyes expanded; he puckered his lips and emitted a low whistle.

"Do ye mind," he said, looking across the table with his old quizzical expression, "the remark that the governor of North Carliny made to the governor of South Carliny?"

Jeff gravely inclined his head.

"I've heerd of it."

"What do ye s'pose he would have said if the time between drinks was ten years?"

"I've never thought, and don't care."

"He would have died long before the time was up."

"When you left the boys in the diggings you came to Dawson City to spend the worth of that nugget for whiskey. I happened to meet you in time and made you go back with me. You'd been off on sprees a half dozen other times, if I hadn't kept an eye on you. Drink is the enemy that will down you if you don't stop at once. If you'll stay sober for ten years, I'll take the chances after that. Are you going to sign?"

Tim's eyes were fixed on the paper which he held in his hand. He mused loud enough for the listening Jeff to catch every word:

"To sign that means no more headaches and bad health, but a clear brain and a strong body; no more hours of gloom, no weakness of the limbs and pricks of the conscience; no more breaking the heart of me good old mother in Ireland, but the bringing of sunshine and joy to her in her last days; it means the signing away of me slavery, and the clasping to me heart of the swate boon of liberty; it means the making of mesilf into a man!"

With a firm hand he wrote his name at the bottom of the paper, and flinging down the pen, said:

"With God's help, that pledge shall be kept."

"Amen," reverently responded Jeff; "there's your check for seventy-five thousand dollars."

THE END.