"You're a sight fer sore eyes, so ye are!" cried Jack Wumble, slapping each on the shoulder. "I never dreamed o' seein' ye in this out o' the way corner o' the country."
"We didn't expect to come here either, up to a few days ago," answered Sam.
"Maybe ye better tell me the story," suggested the old miner. "If I kin help ye I will."
"Come on to the cabin," suggested Dick, and led the way. They sat down on a corner seat, and there the Rovers told their story, withholding nothing, for they knew they could trust Jack Wumble in every particular.
"Gosh all hemlock! Sounds like one of them theatre plays I see in 'Frisco," was the old miner's comment. "To think Tom would wander away in thet fashion! 'Tain't no wonder ye are scart to deth! I'd be scart myself, thinkin' he might jump overboard, or sumthin' like thet. He ought to be put in an asylum."
After that Jack Wumble told his own story. He said his claim in Colorado had gradually petered out, and then he had tried his fortunes in various other places, gradually winding up in the Klondyke. There he had struck what he hoped would prove a bonanza.
"I've been down to the States buying some machinery an' some supplies," he added. "They are coming up on a freight boat next week. I find I can do better to go to the States fer things than to buy in Alaska."
"Have you taken any gold out of your claim yet?" questioned Sam, with interest.
Jack Wumble looked around, to make certain that nobody was listening but the Rovers.
"Don't ye tell nobody," he whispered. "I took out about two thousand dollars, in nuggets an' dust, in less'n ten days!"