Instantly the air was filled with a harsh cheering that left the girl almost weeping in her terror and misery. But the men saw nothing of the effect of their good-will. They were only too glad to be able to find such an outlet to their feelings. When the cheering ceased Pete thrust out an arm toward her. His palm was stretched open, and lying on it was the great yellow nugget that the Padre had found—the first find of the “strike.”
“That’s it, missie,” he cried, his wild eyes rolling delightedly. “Look right ther’. That’s fer you. The Padre found it, an’ it’s his to give, an’ he sent it to you. That’s the sort o’ luck you bro’t us.”
The crowd closed in with necks craning to observe the wonderful nugget of gold; to the finding of its kind their lives were devoted. Beasley was at Pete’s elbow, the greediest of them all.
“It wasn’t no scrapin’ an’ scratchin’ luck,” the enthusiastic Pete hurried on. “It was gold in hunks you bro’t us.”
Beasley’s eyes lit, and Buck, watching closely, edged in.
“It’s a present to you, missie,” Pete went on. “That’s wot we come for. Jest to hand you that nugget. Nigh sixty ounces solid gold, an’ the first found at this yer camp.”
Balanced on his hand he thrust it farther out for the girl to take, but she shrank back. Beasley saw the movement and laughed. He pointed at it and leered up into her face.
“You’re sure right,” he cried. “Don’t you touch it. Jest look at it. Say, can’t you fellers see, or are you blind? She ain’t blind. She can see. She’s seen wot’s ther’. It’s a death’s head. Gold? Gee, I tell you it’s a death’s head! Look at them eye-sockets,” he cried, pointing at the curious moulding of the nugget. “Ther’s the nose bones, an’ the jaw. Look at them teeth, too, all gold-filled, same as if a dentist had done ’em.” He laughed maliciously. “It’s a dandy present fer a lady. A keepsake!”
The men were crowding to see the markings which Beasley pointed out. They were quite plain. They were so obvious that something like horror lit the superstitious faces. Beasley, watching, saw that he had made his point, so he hurried on—
“Don’t you touch it, miss,” he cried gleefully, as though he thoroughly enjoyed delivering his warning. “It’s rotten luck if you do. That gold is Devil’s gold. It’s come from Devil’s Hill, in a Devil’s storm. It’s a death’s head, an’ there’s all the trouble in the world in it. There’s——”