Clark stared at the fragment of rock with a sudden and divine thrill.
Gold! the _ultima thule_ of the explorer. He had erected vast works to
gain gold, not for himself for he desired no wealth, but for others,
and here the precious thing lay in his hand. His heart leaped and the
blood rushed to his temples while his eyes wandered to the impassive
face of Fisette. Who and what was the breed that he could be so calm?
Out of a riot of sensations he gradually reëstablished his customary
clearness of vision. Here was additional evidence of the inherent
wealth of the country. It was that for which men dared death and peril
and hardship, and it struck him that it would be a dramatic thing to
ship steel rails and pulp and gold bullion on the same day.
But for all of this he was not carried away. However great the thrill,
his mind could not be diverted by the discovery of a quartz vein. He
knew, too, that mining of this character was a tricky thing and that
nature, as often as not, left the shelves of her storehouses empty when
by all the rules of geology they ought to be laden. He would explore
and develop the find, but its chief value, he ultimately decided, was
psychological, and would be seen in the continued support of his
followers. Presently he looked up and caught the disappointed eyes of
Fisette.
"It's all right, mon vieux," he said with an encouraging smile, "and
it's very good. How far from the railway?"
"About six mile." Fisette's voice was unusually dull.
"And you have it all staked and marked and dated?"
"Yes, I'm not one damn fool."
Clark laughed outright. "Of course not--but listen--you remember when
you found the iron last year what I told you?"
"You told me to keep my mouth shut. I keep it."
"That's right. And now I want you to keep your mouth open."