Half an hour later the sure-footed Indian cautiously made his way along the trail. Stars twinkled overhead. A well filled money belt, a revolver, and blankets ornamented his person, though only the latter were visible.
The "Hidden Ledge" was close at hand, but unknowingly he passed it by; its secret having been, for the present, buried with the two partners who were numbered among the strenuous stampeders on the White Pass Trail.
CHAPTER IV
A NEW KLONDYKE
Two miners sat smoking in a small log cabin in Dawson. They were hardy young fellows, and used the accent of born Canadians. They were brothers, and the elder was speaking.
"What's the use of our hanging 'round here all winter doing nothing? The best creeks are all staked, and there isn't the ghost of a show for us to get any first class ground hereabouts. Let's light out, blaze a new trail for ourselves, and prospect in the likeliest places during the winter instead of idling away our time here, eating up high-priced grub and hating ourselves. I'm sick of this camp. What do you say?"
"Which way shall we go?"