“They're still piling out of Dawson,” he said, “and before long there will be five thousand here. The danger is if they start jumping claims. When you figure there are only five claims, it means a thousand men to a claim, and four thousand out of the five will try to jump the nearest claim. It can't be done, and if it ever starts, there'll be more dead men here than in the whole history of Alaska. Besides, those five claims were recorded this morning and can't be jumped. In short, claim-jumping mustn't start.”
“Right-o,” said the lieutenant. “I'll get my men together and station them. We can't have any trouble here, and we won't have. But you'd better get up and talk to them.”
“There must be some mistake, fellows,” Smoke began in a loud voice. “We're not ready to sell lots. The streets are not surveyed yet. But next week we shall have the grand opening sale.”
He was interrupted by an outburst of impatience and indignation.
“We don't want lots,” a young miner cried out. “We don't want what's on top of the ground. We've come for what's under the ground.”
“We don't know what we've got under the ground,” Smoke answered. “But we do know we've got a fine town-site on top of it.”
“Sure,” Shorty added. “Grand for scenery an' solitude. Folks lovin' solitude come a-flockin' here by thousands. Most popular solitude on the Yukon.”
Again the impatient cries arose, and Saltman, who had been talking with the later comers, came to the front.
“We're here to stake claims,” he opened. “We know what you've did—filed a string of five quartz claims on end, and there they are over there running across the town-site on the line of the slide and the canyon. Only you misplayed. Two of them entries is fake. Who is Seth Bierce? No one ever heard of him. You filed a claim this mornin' in his name. An' you filed a claim in the name of Harry Maxwell. Now Harry Maxwell ain't in the country. He's down in Seattle. Went out last fall. Them two claims is open to relocation.”
“Suppose I have his power of attorney?” Smoke queried.