The "Wizard" winked at Jim, who was growing restive.
"Wait till we get Owens ashore and start on the gold," he whispered. "I've seen these backers get cold feet before, when they hit this northern country for the first time. They're the worst to hold back, often, after they once get going."
But Jim was thoroughly dissatisfied. There was more than a little likelihood that the old prospector would make some scornful remark, for he was in his own land now, and had all a "sour-dough's" contempt for a "tenderfoot." But Jameine's hand was on his arm and he obeyed the warning pressure.
The little motor-launch was lowered from the davits, with every member of the party aboard. None of the sailors was taken, for Jim did not want to run any risk of strangers taking up claims. The "Wizard" ran the engine, and the yachtsman took the helm.
One piece of mechanism, small but very heavy, was lowered into the boat. It sank her low in the water, but it belonged to the "Wizard" and he was not the kind of man whose acts any one would question. Picks, shovels, sledge-hammers, wedges, and dynamite were included in the cargo. Thus heavily loaded, the boat reached the shore, Jim pointing out the landing-place. It was not so easy to land as the Wizard had suggested. It was necessary to wade through the sponge-ice, churned up the shore, Jameine being carried in the huge arms of the, "Wizard."
The snow on the island was almost knee-deep, but, except Owens, none of the party minded. Jameine was the gayest of all.
"Lead on to the millions, Uncle Jim!" she cried.
But the old prospector made the girl take his arm.
"We'll git there fust, together!" he declared.
A few minutes tramping brought them to a depression in the snow.