“No, and I’m not going to—now,” said Swiftwater and then left the room.
Swiftwater had between $35,000 and $40,000 of my money in his Quartz Creek concession. I had felt absolutely secure for the reason that if the property was well handled my interest should be worth from $100,000 to $250,000. My faith in the property has been justified by subsequent events, as all well informed Dawson mining men will testify.
But the want of money was bitter and keen at that moment. Yet I scarcely knew what to advise Swiftwater to do.
Gates and Bera came to my rooms after dinner that night.
“Will this help you pay a few pressing little bills?” asked Swiftwater, as he threw two fifty dollar paper notes in my lap.
“My God, Swiftwater, can’t you spare any more than $100?” I gasped.
“Oh, that’s just for now—I’ll give you plenty more tomorrow,” said he.
As they arose to go, Bera kissed me on the mouth and cheek with her arms around my neck.
“You love the baby, don’t you mama?” said Bera, and I saw then, without seeing, and came afterwards to know that there were tears in Bera’s eyes and a smile dewy with affection on her lips.