“Thankye, my son; on’y don’t do it again. I don’t like the compliment. But how are you?—how are you?”
“Oh, middling. We were just thinking about you.”
“Were you, my sons?” cried the big Cornishman, smiling all over his broad face. “That’s right. Well, I was thinking about you, and wondering whether I should find you, and here you are first go.”
“But how did you find us?” cried Dallas, after shaking hands warmly.
“Went back to Yukon Town a fortni’t ago, and the chap there at the hotel told me you were still up here, for one of you came down now and then to buy stores.”
“Did you see the judge?”
“Oh, yes, he’s there still.”
“Made his pile?”
“No-o-o! Done pretty tidy, I believe.”
“And what about Redbeard and Company? Heard anything of that firm?”