“No.”
Jim took possession of the bag of dust. He peered into its golden depths. And the man observing him noted the keen lighting of his eyes, and the instant, absorbed interest that took possession of him. After a moment the trader looked up.
“One panning?” he demanded incredulously.
“One panning.”
Jim drew a deep breath. It was an expression of that curious covetous thrill at the sight of unmeasured wealth which is so human. He weighed the bag in his hand.
“Ther’s more than three ounces of stuff here,” he said, gazing into the dark eyes opposite him. “Guess it’s nearer four.” Again he breathed deeply. “One panning!” he exclaimed. Then followed an ejaculation which said far more than any words.
Marty Le Gros nodded.
“You reckon it’s this bringing them down—our way,” he said. “That’s what Usak reckons, too. Maybe I feel you’re both right—now. I was a fool to give my yarn out. I should have held it tight, and just let you know quietly. Yes, I see it now. You see, I didn’t think. I guess I didn’t understand the temptation of it. When I lit on that ‘strike’ it scarcely interested me a thing, and I didn’t see why it should worry anybody else. I forgot human nature. No, it wasn’t till the gold spirit suddenly hit me that I realised anything. And when it did it made me lie—even to you.”
Jim twisted up the neck of the bag and re-set the lashings about it. Then, with a regretful sigh, he passed the coveted treasure back to its owner.
“Let’s see. How long is it since you handed out your yarn? It’s more’n two months. Two months,” he repeated thoughtfully. “They’ve had two months on Loon Creek, an’ they’ve drawn blank. There—Yes, I see. They’re coming back on you. They started by way of your Mission, an’ they mean you to git a grip on their way of handlin’ the thing. Man, it sets my blood red hot. They’ve cleaned this region out of furs, an’ every other old trade, so I’m sittin’ around waitin’ for my people to close us down, and now—this. Is there no help? Ain’t ther’ a thing we can do? God! It makes me hot.”