"But an ounce of gold is worth sixteen dollars!" exclaimed the girl, "And sixteen dollars every day for each of you is lots of money."
Brent laughed: "It's good wages, and that's about all. But I'm not here just to make wages. I've got to make a strike."
"How much is a strike?"
"Oh, anywhere from a half a million up."
"A half a million dollars!" cried the girl, "Why, what could you do with it all?"
Brent laughed: "Oh I could manage to find use for it, I reckon. In the first place I owe a man some money over on the Yukon—two men. They've got to be paid. And after that—" His voice trailed off into silence.
"And what would you do after that?" persisted the girl.
"Well," answered the man, as he watched the shower of sparks fly upward, "That depends—But, come, it's getting dark. I'll walk home with you."
"Are you going because you think I am afraid?" she laughed.
"I am going because I want to go," he answered, and led off up the river.