“No matter,” she murmured. “It’s not so far back. And you couldn’t lose old Dannie. Good old Dannie! He knows the way.”
Then a thought struck her. She seemed to be hearing Johnny Thompson say: “If you make a strike, we’ll know it. Moccasin Telegraph.”
“Does he know?” she asked herself. “If he knows, will he come, he and the others?”
Once more she felt the sting of snow on her cheek, and shuddered.
But had they made a strike after all? They would soon know!
Pausing to rest his weary muscles, the young Canadian allowed the pay-dirt to drift off the rocker until nothing remained save that which was in the pocket.
“Now—” His voice was a trifle unsteady. “Now we shall see!”
Thrusting in his hand, he stirred the mass in the pocket. And as he stirred the tense muscles of his face relaxed into a smile.
“Joyce, my child!” he cried, seizing her and sending her whirling round and round. “We win! There is gold! Gold aplenty!”
“Four pounds if an ounce!” he exclaimed a little later when the work was done. “And this is only the beginning!