"How much," the Boy asked, breathless, "did you get out of yours?"
"Waiting till summer. Nex' summer—" The eyelids fell.
"So it isn't a fake after all." The Boy stood up. "The camp's all right!"
"You'll see. It will out-boom the Klondyke."
"Ha! How long have you been making the trip?"
"Since August."
The wild flame of enterprise sunk in the heart of the hearer.
"Since August?"
"No cash for steamers; we had a canoe. She went to pieces up by—" The weak voice fell down into that deep gulf that yawns waiting for man's last word.
"But there is gold at Minóok, you're sure? You've seen it?"