"From the Indian's extended palm the yellow flash of native gold filled Britton's startled eyes."
CHAPTER XIII.
"Gold! Gold! Gold!" screamed the excitable and drunken Corsican, as he danced about the tent.
At the bright gleam of the yellow metal, Rex had sprung forward and grasped the precious specimen from the Thron-Diuck's hand.
"Where did you get this?" he demanded, breathlessly.
A look of cunning overspread the Indian's coppery features, and discolored teeth were displayed in his gaping grin.
"Give fire-water," he said, fawningly, "then me tell."
Britton examined the piece of ore from every angle in the candle-light and recognized a wonderful sample of alluvial gold. It weighed probably eight ounces, and Rex trembled in excitement not to be repressed. There was no doubt of its origin, and he knew that the carousing rascal must be speaking the truth. The glacier-worn edges of the specimen told that it had come from a heavy deposit, a place of "big gold."
"Where did you get this?" Rex hoarsely repeated, his hands shaking as if weighted down with golden pounds instead of ounces.
"Bring whiskey, then me tell where heap much gold come from," was the Indian's laconic response.