To Win or to Die Part 35

"I'll do better than that," said the Cornishman: "I'll stop now."

"You will?"

"Of course; and glad of the chance to help you. Yah!"

The big fellow jumped up in horror, as a loud rap came from close by.

"What was that?" cried Dallas, who was equally startled.

"It was that there dog's ghost got his tail thawed enough to give it a rap on the floor to say, 'That's right'; and I believe your cousin's right too, now, and this is a message sent to us to say, 'Look out, for those three beauties are coming here again.'"

"Nonsense!" cried Dallas, going down on his knees; "the dog's alive."

"I'm blessed!" said his big friend. "Well, some things can stand being froze hard and thawed out again better than we Christians. I s'pose it's having such a thick coat. Look at him; he's got one eye open, and he's winking."

In proof thereof came a low whine, as if in appeal for food.

"Look here, my sons," said Tregelly one day, as he came in last from the dismal darkness without to the bright warmth of the hut, where the fire was burning cheerily and an appetising odour of tea, damper, and fried ham proclaimed how busy, weak as he still was, Abel had been; "I used to grumble a deal down in old Cornwall because we had a lot o' wet days, and say it was a country not fit for anything better than a duck to live in; but I'm an altered man now, and I repent. It's a regular heaven compared to this Klondike country. Hullo, Scruff, my son, how are you?"

The dog gave an amiable growl, and seemed to enjoy the gentle caress the big miner gave him with his heavy boot, as he lay stretched out by the fire.

"Don't grumble, Bob," said Dallas. "This looks cheery enough, and we've done some good to-day."

"Oh, I'm not grumbling, my son; only making comparisons as is ojus.

That's what I used to write at school. This is a reg'lar Lord Mayor's banquet for a hungry man. But my word, how dirty I am!"

"So am I," said Dallas. "What with the gravel and the wood-smoke, I feel like a charcoal burner. I should like a wash, though."

"Wash, my son! I should like a bathe in our old Cornish sea, with the sun s.h.i.+ning on my back. And I say, a bit of our old fish. A few pilchards or grilled mackerel, or a baked hake, with a pudding inside him--or oh! a conger pie."

"Don't, Bob," said Dallas. "This is painful. And look here; either you or I must go down to Yukon City with the sledge again, for the stores are getting low."

"Nay," said the big Cornishman; "we'll have up what I've got down yonder first. Clear out the place. There's enough there to last us a fortnight longer; and I want to go there badly."

"Very well," said Dallas; "then we'll go. Feel well enough to come as far as there to-morrow, Bel?"

"Yes; and I should like it," was the reply.

"Then we'll go. We'll shut up the dog here to keep house till we come back, though no one is likely to come. I say, how much longer it has been light to-day."

"Pretty sort of light!" growled Tregelly. "I could make better light out of a London fog and some wet flannel. We got a fine lot of gravel and was.h.i.+ng stuff, though, out of the shaft to-day. Look here, I picked out this."

He held out a tiny nugget of gold, about as big as a small pea; and it was duly examined, put in a small canister upon the shelf, and then the evening meal went on, and Tregelly refreshed himself with large draughts of tea.

"Look here," he said: "we agreed that we'd tell one another if we found a good place, and we started working separate."

"Yes," said Bel, "and fate has ordered that we should come together again. We--bah! what mockery it seems to talk of 'we' when I'm such a helpless log."

"Look here, Bel, I wish you were a bit stronger, and I'd kick you."

"Don't wait, my son; kick him now," cried Tregelly. "He deserves it."

"I'll save it up," said Dallas. "But look here, Big Bob, you needn't make a long speech. You were going to say that you thought now that we had better stick together, share and share alike for the future."

"Well, I dunno how you knew that," said Tregelly; "but it was something of the kind."

"That's right, then we will; eh, Bel?"

"Of course; if Tregelly will consent to share with such a weak, helpless--"

"Here," cried the big Cornishman, springing up, "shall I kick him?"

"No, no; let him off."

"But he do deserve it," said Tregelly, subsiding. "Now, I was going to say it don't seem quite fair for me to stop, as those precious three--if there is three of 'em left unhung--not having shown up, there don't seem any need."

"More need than ever," said Dallas. "Your being here scares them away."

"Hope it do," said Tregelly. "Then look here, we'll go down to my pit to-morrow, and bring up the sledge load, including my bit of ice, for it can't be so very long now before it'll begin to thaw a bit every day, and I don't want my block to melt and let out the gold. There's more there than you'd think."

"But that's yours," said Abel.

"Nay, nay, my son; we'll put it all together. You've got some, and there's a lot yonder outside when the soft weather comes and we can wash it out; so that's settled. Wonder whether working in that hot damp shaft'll give us rheumatiz by-and-by."

"I hope not, Bob," said Dallas, yawning. "I've often thought of something of the kind. One thing is certain, that if we don't find much more gold than we have got so far we shall have earned our fortunes."

"Fortunes!" cried Abel contemptuously; "why, at the rate we have been going on, if we get enough to pay for our journey home, as well as for our provisions, that will be about all."

"And except for the pleasant trip, my sons, we might as well have stopped at home."

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

A STRANGE DISCOVERY.

Dallas stared the next morning when he opened his eyes, for the fire was burning brightly and Abel was bustling about in the lit-up hut, with nothing but a slight limp to tell of the old frost-bite in his foot.

"Come," he said cheerfully; "breakfast is nearly ready."

"Where's Bob Tregelly?" cried Dallas.

"Sc.r.a.ping the ice off the sledge to make it run easily. It's a glorious morning."

"Night," said Dallas sourly, for he was half asleep. "I'm not going to call it morning till there's daylight. Snowing?"

"No. Keen frost, and the stars are brilliant."

"Bother the stars!" grumbled Dallas, rolling out of his warm couch of blankets and skins. "I want the sun to come back and take the raw edge off all this chilly place. But I say, you have given up going with us to-day--to-night, I mean?"