I gently thrust a hand beneath the pillow of skins, and drew out a small but heavy bag fashioned of rawhide. At his bidding I placed it beside the old man. With a hard effort, he loosed the mouth and turned the big upside down. Out fell on the fold of a blanket a mass of golden nuggets of the purest quality. There were not less than fifty, of large size, and they gleamed dull yellow in the rays of the fire. The sight almost took our breath, and we gazed with greedy, wondering eyes.
“Look! I spoke the truth,” said Hiram Buckhorn. “There is the evidence! Millions like them are to be dug in the region of the Klondike! But put them back—their glitter is no longer for me!”
I hurriedly gathered the nuggets into the bag and thrust it deep under the skins again. The old man watched every movement and heaved a faint sigh.
“The gold is yours, my friend,” he muttered. “Take it and divide it when you have put me beneath the snow. And one other favor I crave. Send word at the first opportunity to San Francisco, of the fate of those who sailed with me. They were trusty comrades! As for myself, I have no kith or kin—”
His voice suddenly dwindled to a whisper, and a spasm shook him from head to foot. His glassy eyes closed, he lifted one hand and dropped it, and then his heaving chest was still.
“Ay, that was his last breath,” replied Carteret. “He went quickly.”
“The excitement finished him,” said Captain Rudstone. “But listen! What is that?”
We looked at one another with startled faces. Far, far above us we heard a roaring, grinding noise, increasing each second. And we knew only too well what it meant!
“A snowslide—an avalanche!” cried Captain Rudstone. “It has started at the top, and will carry everything before it down the hill.”