“You see, it’s this way,” he began after a moment’s pause. “I believe we’ve been working at cross purposes and it occurred to me that a good talk might clear the atmosphere a bit. So I decided to make a call on you.”
“Kind of you,” Jack assured him.
If the stranger sensed the note of sarcasm in Jack’s voice he took no notice of it but continued:
“My name is Kane, George Kane, and I’m a mining engineer, graduated from Boston Tech three years ago. Most of the time since then I’ve been out West and in Alaska hunting gold. It’s a pretty long story and I hope it won’t bore you,” he hesitated.
“Go on,” Bob told him. “We like good stories.”
“Well, they say truth is stranger than fiction so I hope you’ll believe it. Last October I was on the Klondike about forty miles from Dawson. I had been there about three weeks and had staked out a claim which promised to be rich but, I may as well say right off, the promise was not fulfilled. The vein petered out after a few days’ work on it and I was unable to relocate it. You can imagine that I was pretty well discouraged, especially as I was all alone and had no one to cheer me up when the blue devils got hold of me.
“The weather had turned cold and there had been a couple of light snows and I knew that in a week or two winter would set in in earnest. So I decided to return to Dawson for I didn’t want to spend the long winter away up there in the mountains alone. It was to be my last night there and I was busy in my shack getting together what few things I wanted to take out with me. The mercury was well down below zero and it looked as though it might snow before morning. I had nearly finished and was about to turn in when I heard a cry from out of the night. I rushed out of doors and listened, but the cry was not repeated, so I called but there was no reply. I was sure that someone was not far away and in trouble so I got a lantern and started to hunt. It was all of an hour before I stumbled over a form lying huddled close to the foot of a large tree.
“At first I thought the man was dead, but finally I discovered that his heart was still beating, though feebly. He was unconscious and it was sometime before I got him to the shack. I saw at once that he was done for, but I’m not going to tire you with details. He lived a week and I did what I could for him and finally buried him. But, before he died, he told me a lot about himself. It seems he was from Maine and had got into some trouble which had caused him to leave. And now comes the strange part. He told me that just before he had had to skip out, he had found a rich vein of gold up on Mount Katahdin. I had never heard of gold being found in Maine, but I couldn’t see why he should want to lie to me about it, especially as he seemed very grateful for what I had done for him. He told me all about the place here and just how to find it. But either he wasn’t telling the truth or else I didn’t get it straight for I’ve been hunting nearly two weeks and haven’t found a thing.”
CHAPTER X
A DETECTIVE SHOWS UP.
As the man finished his story he glanced first at Bob and then at Jack as though anxious to discover whether or not they believed him. For a moment neither spoke, then Bob asked: