Coney! why, that was the name, I remembered, of the young fellow who had showed us some attention, Meade and me, when we arrived at Skagway. I wondered if it could be the same.
We hurried on excitedly, full of anxiety, for if they had discovered we had found gold there rich, there was no telling what they might be doing.
With our light loads we got on very much faster than May and I did, in spite of the horrid state of the trail—half slushy snow, half morass; frozen every night, thawing every day.
On the fourth evening out, when we were camped a few miles only below our old den, as darkness fell we perceived a fire burning in the distance. On investigation we found it to be two men halted on their way down. Sandy hailed them. It was White-eyed Williams and Coney.
I at once recognised the latter; he did not remember me, or our former meeting.
We sat by their huge fire beside their one little tent, smoking and comparing notes. They informed us that they had tried here and there for many miles up the main river, as they called the Klondyke, and had had no luck. They had seen a trail (my trail and May's) coming down this creek as they passed the mouth of it on their outward journey. They supposed it was just a couple like themselves who had been prospecting, and were returning disgusted. But on their own way back, unsuccessful, when they noticed the traces again, they followed them up, just for curiosity, to ascertain what their makers had been doing up there.
This was intensely interesting to me, you may be sure.
Said Coney, "Not far up from here—we left this afternoon—we came to a dug-out; near it was the mouth of a big drive, a regular tunnel. A lot of work had been done there. The owners had only lately left—we made that out; and there was a notice stuck on the door of the shack, who it belonged to. We did not force our way into the crib, nor did we try their pile of pay-dirt, nor enter their tunnel, of course; but you bet we tried some stuff from the bankside along the creek, and, my word for it, friends, these fellows have hit on it good! White-eye and I washed out a few pans only—see, here's some of it," and he showed a handful of shining bits. "Then we marked out a claim, and are hurrying down to register it, and if you men are wise you'll do the same to-morrow, for, depend upon it, it is very rich along the creek up there."
I could hardly keep silent, I was in such an excited state on hearing this story. Sandy was staring at me, and Frank asked, "What were the names of the owners of this claim, then, which were stuck on the door?"
"It was Herbert Singleton and Percy Meade," said Coney.