"Got another hunch?" was the query.
"I sure have," he answered. "Flour's sure going to be worth what a man will pay for it this winter up on the Klondike. Who'll lend me some money?"
On the instant a score of the men who had declined to accompany him on the wild-goose chase were crowding about him with proffered gold-sacks.
"How much flour do you want?" asked the Alaska Commercial Company's storekeeper.
"About two ton."
The proffered gold-sacks were not withdrawn, though their owners were guilty of an outrageous burst of merriment.
"What are you going to do with two tons?" the store-keeper demanded.
"Son," Daylight made reply, "you-all ain't been in this country long enough to know all its curves. I'm going to start a sauerkraut factory and combined dandruff remedy."
He borrowed money right and left, engaging and paying six other men to bring up the flour in half as many more poling-boats. Again his sack was empty, and he was heavily in debt.
Curly Parsons bowed his head on the bar with a gesture of despair.