May and I talked whenever we had a chance together about this matter: she was all for telling these new friends and getting their advice. She was certain that they were perfectly true and trusty. So was I, and yet I advised caution. We could not easily decide.
Mrs Bain was about eight-and-twenty,—a well-read, clever Scotswoman, and very religious. She had in Scotland considerable lung trouble. Ontario had helped her, and now, strange as it may appear, in the intense cold and dreariness of this Yukon country she had lost all signs of weakness, and considered herself a strong woman. Still, her husband objected to her putting her head outside the place. "My woman," he was often saying, "you see to a' things ben the hoose; we'll see that ye get all ye want—wood, and snow for watter and a' things; and noo that ye hae this bonnie lassie for company, ye'll do fine."
The weather was quite calm for two weeks after we arrived—cold, of course, except at midday for an hour or so. But we could see signs of spring coming. The snow was packing; there were bare patches on the hills and on the creek; the slush beneath the upper layer of snow was deeper and softer. I had the curiosity to go out on to the Klondyke, and I found it very much worse than when May and I were on it. In places the ice was burst up, and I realised that it would have been impossible for us to move along it if we had been unwise enough to start. We would surely have had to camp somewhere on the way, and live in misery, perhaps many miles from any help. We were very far better off than that.
A couple of miles up the Klondyke the ice was at this time broken up, and by the strong current was being piled up on the bars and banks. Every day made a change, and we saw that we could soon bring our boat down as was planned. Therefore the time had arrived when we must make our journey up to my place, and so it became absolutely necessary that we two should settle what should be done about the gold.
I fortunately got May outside, and had a talk with her about it. "Shall I leave it where it is?" I asked, "and trust all will be well; or shall I try to bring some down secretly?"
She was all for telling the truth to the Bains and Frank, and bespeaking their help. I was as certain as she was of their honesty and integrity, but I knew what a fascination gold has, and I thought it just possible that the knowledge of our riches might affect them, and cause them to do something unpleasant, and complicate affairs in some way. But May would not hear of this. "No, no!" she exclaimed; "they are good, true people. I say tell them all, and get their help."
We talked this over for some time, and the result was that when we were gathered round the fire that evening, I made a clean breast of it. I told them what Meade and I had found, and what May and her father had, and that, besides the stock of food which I had told about, there was this immense quantity of gold, and that the fifty pounds we had with us then was merely a sample of it.
Our story staggered them, especially our coming away and leaving it unprotected. We had, May and I, to go over again and again the history of our find, and the statement of the actual quantity we had obtained. We were obliged to explain about the lay of the gravel in which we had found it, and to give all the information we could about the likelihood of there being more about both places.
As to this latter point we assured them that we believed the whole district was very rich. We told them what we had discovered even inside my dug-out, and before we separated that night they all became so excited that I foolishly began to dread they would do something troublesome.
Such is the effect of gold. I suppose nothing else could have made me suspicious of such worthy people.