A STARTLING DISCOVERY.
The weather was mild, for the short, oppressive Northwest summer was
rapidly approaching. During the middle of the day the sun was hot, and
the boys perspired freely. By and by would come the billions of
mosquitoes to render life unbearable. Those pests often kill bears and
wolves by blinding them, and the man who does not wear some protection
is driven frantic, unable to eat, sleep, or live, except in smothering
smoke. Jeff had said that he meant to complete the work, if possible,
and start down the Yukon before that time of torment arrived.
For two days the boys wrought incessantly. They had learned how to wash
and purify the gold in the crude way taught them by the old miner, and
the rich reward for their labor continued. Jeff had brought back on his
previous visit to Dawson City an abundant supply of strong canvas bags,
in which the gold was placed, with the tops securely tied. These were
regularly deposited in the cavern where the party made their home,
until a row of them lined one side of the place. It was a striking
proof of the wonderful richness of their find, that one of these bags
was filled wholly with nuggets, which must have been worth fifteen or
twenty thousand dollars.
Early on the afternoon of the third day another thought struck Frank
Mansley, and he ceased shovelling gravel into the rocker for his
companion.
"What is it now?" asked Roswell with a smile.
"Don't you remember that on the first day we arrived here, while we
were prospecting up the little stream, we saw that friend of Ike
Hardman?"
"Yes, of course."
"Well, we never told Jeff about it."
"I declare!" exclaimed Roswell. "How came we to forget it?"
"This gold drove it out of our minds. I never thought of it until this
minute. I tell you, Roswell, I believe something has gone wrong."
And Frank sat down, removed his cap, and wiped his moist forehead with
his handkerchief.
"What could have gone wrong?" asked the other lad, who, despite his
jauntiness, shared in a degree the anxiety of his friend.
"All the gold we have gathered is in the cavern. I believe Hardman and
those fellows are in the neighborhood and mean to steal it."
"It's a pity we didn't think of this before," said Roswell, laying down
his shovel. "Let's go back to the cavern and keep watch till Jeff comes
back."
Inspired by their new dread, they hastily gathered up what gold had
been washed out, stowed it into another canvas bag, and then Frank
slung it half filled over his shoulder and started for the cavern,
something more than an eighth of a mile away.
They walked fast and in silence, for the thought in the mind of both
was the same. From the first the most imprudent carelessness had been
shown, and they could not understand how Jeff ever allowed the valuable
store to remain unguarded. It is true, as has already been stated, that
the section, despite the rush of lawless characters that have flocked
thither, is one of the best governed in the world, and no officers
could be more watchful and effective than the mounted police of the
Northwest; but the course of our friends had much the appearance of a
man leaving his pocketbook in the middle of the street and expecting to
find it again the next day.
A bitter reflection of the boys was that this never would have been the
case had they told Jeff of the presence of the suspicious individual in
the neighborhood. If anything went amiss, they felt that the blame must
rest with them If matters were found right, they would not leave the
cavern until one or both of their friends returned.
When half the distance was passed, Roswell, who was in the load, broke
into a lope, with Frank instantly doing the same. A minute later they
had to slacken their pace because of the need to climb some bowlders
and make their way through an avenue between massive rocks, but the
instant it was possible they were trotting again.
It had been the custom for the gold-seekers to take a lunch with them
to the diggings. This saved time, and their real meal was eaten in the
evening after their return home.
The moment Roswell caught sight of the round, irregular opening which
served as the door of their dwelling, he anxiously scanned it and the
pile of wood and embers on the outside, where the fire was kindled for
cooking purposes. The fact that he saw nothing amiss gave him hope, but
did not remove the singular distrust that had brought both in such
haste from the diggings.
He ran faster, while Frank, discommoded by the heavy, bouncing bag over
his shoulder, stumbled, and his hat fell off. With an impatient
exclamation he caught it up, recovered himself, and was off again.
As he looked ahead he saw Roswell duck his head and plunge through the
opening.
"Is everything right?" shouted Frank, whose dread intensified with each
passing second.
Before he could reach the door out came his cousin, as if fired by a
catapult. His eyes were staring and his face as white as death.
"Right!" he gasped; "we have been robbed! All the gold is gone!"
[Illustration: "WE HAVE BEEN ROBBED! ALL THE GOLD IS GONE."]
And overcome by the shock the poor fellow collapsed and sank to the
ground as weak as a kitten. Frank let the bag fall and straightened up.
"No; it cannot be," he said in a husky voice.
"Look for yourself," replied Roswell, swallowing a lump in his throat
and turning his eyes pitifully toward his comrade.
A strange fear held Frank motionless for several seconds. Despite the
startling declaration of his cousin, a faint hope thrilled him that he
was mistaken, and yet he dared not peer into the interior through dread
of finding he was not.
Reflecting, however, upon the childish part he was playing, he pulled
himself together, and with the deliberation of Jeff Graham himself bent
his head and passed through the door.
Enough sunlight penetrated the cavern to reveal the whole interior in
the faint illumination. When they left that morning the row of canvas
bags was neatly arranged along the farther wall, where they stood like
so many corpulent little brownies.
Every one had vanished.
Frank Mansley stared for a moment in silence. Then he stepped forward
and called in a strong, firm voice:
"Come, Roswell, quick!"
The other roused himself and hastily advanced.
"Take your revolver," said Frank, as he shoved his own into his
hip-pocket, and begun strapping Jeff's cartridge belt around his waist.
As Roswell obeyed, his cousin took the Winchester from where it leaned
in one corner.
"Now for those thieves, and we don't come back till we find them."