Wondering at his action, the three, smiling but silent, trailed after him. Climbing over some intervening bowlders, they shortly emerged into a place altogether different from any they had yet seen. It was a valley two or three hundred feet in width, with the sides gently sloping. There was no snow on the ground, and here and there a few green blades of grass could be seen sprouting from the fertile soil. Through the middle of this valley meandered a stream eight or ten feet in width, but shallow, and so clear that the bottom could be plainly seen while yet some distance away. The valley itself soon curved out of sight above, and it was impossible, therefore, to guess its extent in that direction. Below it terminated, not far from where they stood, the rocks coming together so as to form a small cañon, through which the creek rushed with a velocity that reminded them of the dangerous ones they had passed on their way from Chilkoot Pass.
"Wait here a bit," said Jeff, as he started toward the stream. The others obeyed, watching his actions with interest.
He strode to the creek, along which he walked a few rods, his head bent as he carefully scrutinized all that passed under his eye. Suddenly he stopped and stared as if he had found that for which he was looking. Then stooping down, he leaned as far out as he could, gathered a handful of the gravelly soil, and put it in the washer which he had taken with him. This was repeated several times. Then he dipped the pan so as nearly to fill it with water, after which he whirled it round several times with a speed that caused some of the water to fly out. That part of his work completed, he set down the pan which served as a washer, and walked rapidly back toward his friends.
"Another disappointment," remarked Frank; "it isn't as easy to find gold as we thought."
"I don't know about that," said Tim McCabe. "Jiff looks to me as if he has hit on something worth while. How is it, Jiff?" he called as the old miner drew near.
"That's our claim," he replied; "we'll stake it out, and then I'm going to Dawson to file it."
"Are you sure there is gold here?" asked Roswell, in some excitement.
"Yes, I hit it this time. We mustn't lose any days in staking it out, or somebody else will get ahead of us."
The assurance of Jeff imparted confidence to the rest. The stakes were cut and driven, according to the rule already stated, and then Jeff breathed more freely.
"We've got sixty days to find the stuff," he said, "and nobody daren't say a word to us. All the same, I'm going to Dawson to file the claim and make things dead sure."