"Well, I'm Herbert Singleton," I exclaimed; "it's my claim where you have been. We're on our way there now to bring away some grub, and to see that all is right."
"Well met!" Coney cried. "Well met! Now we shall hear all about it. We know it's all right up there, but tell us all about it. Honour bright, we'll keep it all as dark as possible."
So what could I do but admit that I had a good claim there. I was as reticent as I could be, though. I thanked them for not having disturbed anything, and begged them for their own sake and ours to say as little about the place as might be, either on the creek where the Bains were, or at Dawson, when they reached it. This they promised willingly enough.
We stopped with these fellows quite a time, talking things over, and arranging plans. We sent a message back to the Bains by them. I pencilled a few lines to May, and we left them full of jubilation.
When we were alone we did nothing but congratulate one another upon the good fortune of our secret being discovered by two men whom my companions were quite sure were honest fellows, though up to that time they had been unlucky in finding gold.
Coney, I perceived, was a well-bred Englishman; in conversation he had mentioned names and places at home which assured me he was that. But that country, like every out-of-the-way corner of the globe, holds many such, many reliable enough and honourable, but also many just "ne'er-do-weels," and failures of all sorts, who have become blacklegs and gamblers. It is never wise to trust any man, certainly not a fellow-countryman, until you know.
However, this one had said a few things which made me think well of him, so I did not regret that above our claim, where they had marked theirs out, we might hope to have decent neighbours; whilst below it, where, no doubt, Frank and Sandy Bain would stake out theirs, we should have friends.
We three were off by daybreak the following morning, soon reached our destination, and found all right and untouched by man or beast. The balance of the day we were occupied in examining the surroundings, pegging the claim out properly, testing the gravel about, and deciding just where my friends should take their claim. We passed the night in the dreary den where Meade and I had spent those terrible days, and where May and I had sojourned so long.
Little had I dreamed of ever returning to it again. Surely I had not imagined it possible to be there again so soon.
Having told my friends about Meade's death, and May's father's, and where I had deposited their bodies, we proceeded, first thing next morning, to carry out our plan. It was to dig a grave on a knoll near by and bury them decently therein.