“No; it’s in six weeks, I believe. They tell me they’ve started regular trips on a new mail contract.”
“Well, six weeks. If we stay in this hole we’ll all be sick; we’ll be broke; and in the meantime every ounce of gold in the country will have been picked up.”
“What’s the alternative?” I asked.
“Sailing vessel,” said Talbot briefly.
“That’s mighty uncertain,” I objected. “Nobody knows when one will get in; and when it does show up it’ll be a mad scramble to get to her. There’s a mob waiting to go.”
“Well, it’s one or the other. We can’t walk; and I don’t see that the situation is going to be much better when the next steamer does get here. There are a couple of hundred to crowd in on her–just counting those who are here and have tickets. And then there will be a lot more.”
“I’m for the sailing vessel,” said Johnny. “They come in every week or two now; and if we can’t make the first one, we’ll have a good chance at the second or the third.”
Talbot looked at me inquiringly.
“Sounds reasonable,” I admitted.
“Then we’ve no time to lose,” said Talbot decisively, and turned away toward the town.