"You had any proposition yet?" The Captain led the way to his private room.
"About my claim? Not yet; but once I get it on the market——"
So full was he of a scheme of his own he failed to see that he had no need to go to Dawson for a buyer.
The Captain set out drinks, and still the talk was of the Bar. It had come now to seem impossible, even to an old bird, that, given those exact conditions, gold should not be gathered thick along that Bar.
"I regard it as a sure thing. Anyhow, it's recorded, and the assessment's done. All the district wants now is capital to develop it."
"Districts like that all over the map," said the old bird, with a final flutter of caution. "Even if the capital's found—if everything's ready for work, the summer's damn short. But if it's a question of goin' huntin' for the means of workin'——"
"There's time," returned the other quietly, "but there's none to waste. You take me and my pardner——"
"Thought you didn't have a pardner," snapped the other, hot over such duplicity.
"Not in ownership; he's got another claim. But you take my pardner and me to Dawson——"
The Captain stood on his legs and roared: