DEPARTURE
She arose in the morning from dreams that were strangely mixed, to find
that the good fortune was no part of the dream, but a reality. Singing she
lighted a fire and prepared a more than usually appetizing breakfast to
celebrate the occasion.
She estimated that if Jim found the Registrar and the official of the
Mining Syndicate early in the morning, he would arrive there about midday.
She laughed amusedly as she thought of him and his inflexible will. She
imagined him in Dawson, yanking the official out of his office and
hustling him down the river at enormous speed.
The morning passed on leaden wings and no boat appeared on the river.
Impatiently she climbed the highest part of the bank and looked towards
Dawson, but only a couple of Indian canoes came to view.
It was an hour later when two riders came tearing down the hill. She
recognized Jim as the foremost of the two, and ran to meet him. He came
thundering down upon her, leaned over, grasped her arms and hauled her up
before him. The mount turned, reared high on its hind-legs until she
shivered with fear, and then stood perfectly still. Jim laughingly helped
her down and waited for the second man.
"Came on hosses," he explained, "because I calculated we'd git back easier
that way. I've got the mining man more'n interested, I guess."
The latter arrived, perspiring freely. He shook hands with Angela and sat
down to get cool.
"This husband, ma'am, of yours, beats the railroad," he ejaculated.
The horses were put on to some grazing ground, and Stevens, the mining
engineer, went to examine the claims which Jim had meanwhile staked.
The examination proved to be a brief affair. Stevens, despite his
professional calm, which was a necessary asset to his business, was
obviously astonished at the richness of the claims.
"Wal, now to business. What do you want for 'em, Conlan?"
Jim nudged Angela.
"Call it a round million."
Stevens put up his hands in horror.
"My dear sir!"
"Wal, we'll sell elsewhere."
"One moment. You must consider the fact that up-river claims involve great
expenditure in working."
"Cut all that," retorted Jim. "What do you offer?"
"I should recommend my company to buy at half a million."
"Nothin' doin'," ejaculated Jim. "Sorry you had the journey for nix.
Anyway, we're glad to meet you."
Stevens gulped. He began to realize he was dealing with a "hard" man.
"See here," said Jim, "we're in a hurry, and will sacrifice a pile to git
this deal fixed. But you gotta raise that offer."
"Very well, let us say $600,000."
"No."
"It's the best I can do."
Angela was about to advise Jim to accept, but he stopped her in time.
"You're going to pay $750,000, or negotiations cease right now. And at
that you'll make a mint of money. I ain't breathed a word about this yere
creek yet. When I do you'll see Dawson City turning out good and strong to
stake claims. It's up to your people to stake the rest of it, if you pay
up quick. Better say the word before there's a howling stampede down
here."
That argument settled Stevens. His own quick mind had been turning on the
same point.
"Call it a bargain," he said. "Better come right back now and get the
transfer made."
Two hours later the party set off, Angela seated behind Jim on the big
mare, and Stevens riding ahead.
Jim was fortunate in getting two rooms at the best hotel. Leaving Angela
there, he went off with Stevens to clinch the deal. He came back later in
the evening, looking a trifle downcast.
"Nothing wrong?" she queried.
"Nope. I got the money in American notes."
He pulled a big pile of notes from his pocket and placed them on the
table, staring at them for a few moments in silence. Then he began to
count them out.
"Better look after your own," he said. "Guess you'll find that
correct--375,000 dollars."
Angela took them, then she leaned over the table and looked at him
queerly.
"Some time ago and many times since you made an offer?"
His hands gripped the table.
"Eh?"
"You must remember--you--you said I was for purchase to anyone who would
pay the price."
"I----" he commenced brokenly.
"You are not going back on your word?"
"O God! Angela, don't force this on me!"
"I mean to--I have found a buyer."
No sound escaped him for a few minutes, then he gasped:
"Who is--he?"
"Myself."
"What!"
"Yes. I want my freedom--and all that freedom means. Fifty thousand pounds
you said--plus ten per cent. Here they are--275,000 dollars, with the
exchange in your favor. Take them!"
She put the notes in the center of the table, but he made no attempt to
touch them. They were still there an hour later when she came from her own
room to fetch something she had left in his. He was still sitting there,
staring at them.
"Jim, I'm going back to-morrow," she said. "The _Topeka_ sails at eight
o'clock. I shan't stay to breakfast. I thought I would let you know."
He nodded, then as she was leaving:
"Maybe you wouldn't mind me seeing you off?"
"I should be very glad," she said indifferently.
When she had gone he put on his hat and went into the streets. He had set
his mind on a "jag" of the worst description--to drink and forget. He
entered a saloon and mixed with the noisy throng. He commenced to lavish
drinks on all and sundry, flinging notes around as though they were dirt;
but the drink tasted like poison. The whole attempt ended in utter
failure. Only a beast could get drunk while the memory of such a woman
hung in his brain.
He wandered back to the hotel, sick at heart and hating the
fast-approaching morrow with its heartache.... He had found gold, but he
had lost--lost completely in the larger battle. He made no attempt to
undress, but sat on his bed and groaned.
When the dawn came he made himself presentable and knocked at Angela's
door. He found her clad for the journey, and several bags ready for
transit. He thought, too, she seemed delighted at the prospects--delighted
when his heart was breaking!
"I'll take these things," he said, and picked up the bags.
They made their way to the jetty off which the _Topeka_ lay, with a
gangway connecting. It was near the time of departure, and nearly all the
passengers were aboard. A crowd of men stood on the shore, passing remarks
to those who were leaving. Here and there a wet eye was in evidence, as
some unfortunate devil saw his wife and child bound for the outer
world--and himself left to the tender mercies of the Klondyke.
Jim walked over the gangway and put down the luggage. When he turned to
Angela he saw no sign of regret. She seemed as calm and collected as she
had been when first he met her.
"So this is the end of the great adventure," she said, smiling.
"Yep."
"And you--what do you intend doing?"
Jim gulped.
"I guess the Klondyke is good enough for me. See here, Angela, I bin
pretty rough with you--but--it wasn't that I meant it that way. You gotta
make allowances for me. I lived among animals for years. Maybe I kinder
got like one, without quite knowing it."
"Perhaps you may make allowances for me, too. I was born in luxury, where
hardship and suffering never entered, where flattery and gifts were the
daily portion. I have never had a chance----"
"Cut that," he grunted. "You got grit and pluck and----"
"All aboard!" yelled a stentorian voice.
"They're off," said Jim. "I---- Good-bye, Angela. Maybe you'll
remember--sometimes."
His eyes suddenly swam and he turned his head away.
"Good-bye!" she murmured, and held his hand.
"All aboard!" yelled the voice again.
A man began to move the gangway. The hand in Jim's suddenly clung on.
"I gotta go," he moaned; "they're pulling in the plank."
The steamer "honked" and began to move. He looked at her appealingly and
she placed something into the palm of his hand.
"It's something I forgot to give you," she said softly.
He opened his hand and saw--a steamboat ticket.
"But----"
"I bought two," she said. "One for you and one for me; and most of your
clothes are in those bags. Didn't you miss them?"