"Have I got to leave that gold there?"
"No, you can take it up if you want to," replied the other.
The Swede hesitated, then picked up his gold and walked away, while the dealer idly turned over the cards, at sight of which even the stoic Dawson audience grew noisy with comments. The cards turned up were an ace and a king—Black Jack, a winning hand against all others.
"That's what a fellow gets whose nerve fails him," remarked Constable Hope.
"Yes, but perhaps it is not always better to win."
Constable Hope glanced shrewdly at John. He followed up the thought with a searching remark.
"I wonder if it would have been better if the miners had won against the officials."
"I wonder!" The remark was not encouraging.
"I heard you make your speech at the finish of the Dominion Creek stampede," Hope persisted in saying; "there does not seem to be much agitation in these days."
"No, the discontented, or rather the wronged, have gone down the river, preferring the chances of a new field to securing justice here. Those who have property are afraid to speak. A goldfield is not a place where principle flourishes."