To Win or to Die Part 19

"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."

"Which is the way?" cried Abel.

"I'll show you when I go back to-morrow, if you like. Where shall you be?"

"Camping just over there," said Dallas, pointing.

"All right. I'm going to sleep at the hotel to-night. Come on by-and-by and see me, and we'll have a chat."

"I say, my son," said their big companion, putting his hand in the bag, half filling it, and letting the gold run back again, before beginning to fasten the flap.

"My son! Why, you're a Cornishman."

"That's so."

"Glad to see a West-countryman out here. I'm from Devonport. But come on and have a chat by-and-by. What were you going to say, though?"

"Seeing what a set of rough pups there are about here, my son, I was going to say, is it safe for a man to carry about a lot of gold like that?"

The stranger took back his bag and slung it over his shoulder again, as he looked from one to the other, half-closed his eyes, and nodded.

"Yes, and no, my lads. You're right; we have got some rough pups about here--chaps who'd put a bullet into a man for a quarter of what I've got there. But they daren't. We've got neither law nor police, you see."

"No, I don't see," said Dallas. "You speak in riddles."

"You don't see, my lad, because you're a Johnny Newcome. I'll tell you.

We've got some of the most blackguardly sc.u.m that could be took off the top of the big town sink-holes--men who've come to rob and gamble; but we've got, too, plenty of st.u.r.dy fellows like yourselves, who mean work and who trust one another--men who'll help each other at a pinch; and I've heard that there's a sort of lawyer fellow they call Judge Lynch has put in an appearance, and he stands no nonsense. He's all on the side of the honest workers, and one of them has only to denounce a man as a thief for the Vigilants to nail him at once. Then there's a short trial, a short shrift, and there's one rogue the less in the world."

"You mean if he's proved to be a thief, or red-handed."

"That's it, my lads. There, I've got some friends to meet. Come on and see me to-night."

The speaker nodded cheerily to all three, and went off at a swinging gait.

"Well, I wouldn't have minded shaking hands with that chap," said the big Cornishman. "The more of that sort there is out here the better."

"Yes," cried Dallas; "his words were quite cheering."

"So was the sight of that little leather sack of his, my sons. Do your foot good, Mr Wray?"

"Yes, I forgot all about it," said Abel, eagerly. "Here, let's make our fire."

This was done, and the billy soon began to bubble, when the tea was thrown in and declared to be delicious, in spite of a mouldy taste consequent upon getting wet in its travels and being dried again.

"Better if we hadn't had all our sugar spoiled," said Dallas, as he munched his biscuit along with a very fat rusty sc.r.a.p of fried bacon.

"It don't want any sugar, my son," said the Cornishman. "I've just stirred a teaspoonful of that chap's gold-dust into it, and it has given it a wonderful flavour."

"Yes," said Abel, "the sight of that gold seems to have quite changed everything."