They stood measuring each other in the dim light, till the Colonel's eyes fell on the loaded sled. The Boy's followed.
"I've only taken short rations for two weeks. I left a statement in the cabin; it's about a fifth of what's my share, so there's no need of a row."
"What are you goin' for?"
"Why, to be first in the field, and stake a gold-mine, of course."
The Colonel laid a rough hand on the Boy's shoulder. He shook it off impatiently, and before the older man could speak:
"Look here, let's talk sense. Somebody's got to go, or there'll be trouble. Potts says Kaviak. But what difference would Kaviak make? I've been afraid you'd get ahead of me. I've watched you for a week like a hawk watches a chicken. But it's clear I'm the one to go."
He pulled up the rope of the sled, and his little cargo lurched towards him. The Colonel stepped in front of him.
"Boy—" he began, but something was the matter with his voice; he got no further.
"I'm the youngest," boasted the other, "and I'm the strongest, and—I'm the hungriest."
The Colonel found a perturbed and husky voice in which to say: