THE SPYING INDIAN
The adventurers could hardly believe their good luck. Fred, still on his
knees, scooped out handful after handful of the dull yellow nuggets,
which meant so much to him and to them all. His thoughts went back to
the humble home he had left, to his crippled father, and his toiling
mother. Now they could have peace, comfort and happiness. But, better
than all, his father could now be assured of a cure. No wonder it seemed
too good to be true.
But it was no dream. The gold was actually there. There were two score
sacks of it, as they soon discovered, for it did not take the three of
them long to get it from the hiding place. Only one had been broken by
Fred's pick, and the nuggets were carefully gathered up.
"Good for you, Fred!" exclaimed Jerry, as he and his father helped pile
the gold carefully to one side. "You won out, but I had begun to think
we were going to fail."
"So did I," added Mr. Baxter.
"I was beginning to get discouraged myself," admitted Fred. "How much do
you suppose is there, Mr. Baxter?"
"There must be half a million," said Jerry.
"Nonsense," answered his father. "No such good luck as that. Still, it
is a tidy little fortune. Let me see if I can calculate it."
He weighed in his hands the different bags, counted them and began to
figure in his head.
"There are forty bags," he said, "and I calculate that each one weighs
about eight pounds. That would give us about three hundred pounds of
gold."
"Three hundred pounds of gold!" repeated Fred, in an awe-struck voice.
"How much is that worth?"
"Well, if it's pure gold, such as these nuggets are, it is worth in the
neighborhood of twenty dollars an ounce."
"How many ounces have we?" asked Jerry.
"Well, of course gold is weighed by Troy measure, which goes twelve
ounces to the pound, but I have calculated this gold by the standard of
sixteen ounces to the pound, and, in three hundred pounds there are
forty-eight hundred ounces."
"And if the gold is worth twenty dollars an ounce that would be--why it
would be ninety-six thousand dollars!" exclaimed Fred, who was good at
arithmetic.
"Ninety-six thousand dollars!" repeated Jerry, staggered by the amount
of so much wealth.
"Of course that is only a rough estimate," Mr. Baxter hastened to add.
"Well, now we've got it, how are we going to get it home?" asked Fred,
when they had stood about a while, contemplating the wealth.
"That's so," agreed Jerry. "Three hundred pounds of gold is no light
weight to transport over three hundred miles on dog sleds."
"I think we will distribute it on the four sleds," said Mr. Baxter. "It
will be safer that way, and not such a load for the dogs. We have used
up considerable of our supplies, and we have that much less in weight.
But the gold will more than make up for it."
They were so excited over their good fortune that they scarcely thought
of eating, and they were startled when Johnson put his head in the
opening of the cave, and announced that dinner was ready.
"All right," answered Mr. Baxter. "We've found the gold, George."
"Has yo' really, Massa Baxter? Am it a million dollars?"
"Far from it, George."
The colored man seemed disappointed. Mr. Baxter did not think it wise to
tell him just how much it was, nor did he want him or the Indian to
catch sight of the yellow nuggets. They might not be able to stand the
sight of so much wealth. So the sacks were covered with some fur robes,
and, while Mr. Baxter remained on guard, Fred and Jerry went to eat.
Then they relieved Mr. Baxter, and, with ready rifles, waited until he
had finished his meal.
The short day was soon at an end, and Mr. Baxter, having sent the Indian
away from camp, to bring in a supply of firewood, began, with the aid of
the boys and Johnson, to pile the gold securely on the sleds.
"We'll start for the south in the morning," announced Mr. Baxter, "and
glad I am to be able to do it, too. This cold seems to get through to my
very bones."
As the last of the gold was being put on the sleds, Fred saw, peering
over the edge of an ice-covered rock, the face of an Alaskan Indian.
"Hello, Holfax!" he cried. "What are you coming that way for?"
But, to his surprise, the figure vanished, and, a moment later, Holfax
appeared, coming from a different direction.
"Why--why--that's funny," remarked Fred.
"What is?" asked Mr. Baxter.
"I thought I saw Holfax looking at me from up there, and here he comes
down there."
No sooner had he spoken than there was a cry from the guide. The eyes of
the four adventurers were drawn toward him, and, as they watched, they
saw another Indian rush at Holfax, take quick aim with a rifle, and
fire.
Holfax dropped the bundle of wood he was carrying, seized a long stick,
and ran at the other. The latter turned and fled, easily distancing
Holfax, who had no snowshoes, while his assailant had on a pair.
"Are you hurt?" asked Mr. Baxter anxiously, hurrying toward the guide,
who turned back as the other passed out of sight in a hollow.
"No hurt. Him bad shot. Him miss."
"Who was it? Why did he fire at you? What did he want?"
"Him bad Indian. Him come spy on camp. Him Toldez, friend of Zank--no
good. Me catch," and Holfax, who had donned his snowshoes, prepared to
race after his assailant.
"No!" exclaimed Mr. Baxter quickly. "Don't go, Holfax. There is
something queer about this," he added. "That Indian tried to kill you,
Holfax. Why did he do it?"
"Me no know. Him bad, guess. Maybe want gold."
"That's it!" cried Mr. Baxter. "He's a spy, sent on by some others. You
say he is a friend of Zank? Zank knows that one-eyed man. Do you
suppose there are more Indians around here, Holfax?"
"Mebby so. Plenty Indians live over there," and the guide pointed to the
west. "Toldez live there. Him come spy on camp. Me like shoot Toldez,
but him no shoot me. Too much bad aim," and he chuckled over his narrow
escape, as though it was a thing of no consequence.
"Boys," said Mr. Baxter solemnly, "I'm afraid we're in for trouble. The
thieving Alaskans know about our finding the gold. That one may have
been hiding around here for some time, and probably watched us put the
sacks on the sleds."
"What can we do?" asked Fred.
"We must be on our guard. Get your rifles, and keep them loaded. We must
hasten to some settlement. Here we are at the mercy of these savage and
thieving Indians. Our gold is not safe yet, even though we have found
it."