In the midst of the noise and movement the mackinaw man said to the Boy: 

“Don’t know as you’d care to see my new prospect hole?”

“Course I’d like to see it.”

“Well, come along tomorrow afternoon.  Meet me here ’bout two.  Don’t say nothin’ to nobody,” he added still lower.  “We don’t want to get overrun before we’ve recorded.”

The Boy could have hugged that mackinaw man.

Outside it was broad day, but still the Gold Nugget lights were flaring and the pianola played.

They had learned from the bartender where to find Blandford Keith—­“In the worst-looking shack in the camp.”  But “It looks good to me,” said the Boy, as they went in and startled Keith out of his first sleep.  The man that brings you letters before the ice goes out is your friend.  Keith helped them to bring in their stuff, and was distinctly troubled because the travellers wouldn’t take his bunk.  They borrowed some dry blankets and went to sleep on the floor.

It was after two when they woke in a panic, lest the mackinaw man should have gone without them.  While the Colonel got breakfast the Boy dashed round to the Gold Nugget, found Si McGinty playing craps, and would have brought him back in triumph to breakfast—­but no, he would “wait down yonder below the Gold Nugget, and don’t you say nothin’ yit about where we’re goin’, or we’ll have the hull town at our heels.”

About twelve miles “back in the mountains” is a little gulch that makes into a big one at right angles.

“That’s the pup where my claim is.”

“The what?”

“Little creek; call ’em pups here.”

Down in the desolate hollow a ragged A tent, sagged away from the prevailing wind.  Inside, they found that the canvas was a mere shelter over a prospect hole.  A rusty stove was almost buried by the heap of earth and gravel thrown up from a pit several feet deep.

“This is a winter diggins y’ see,” observed the mackinaw man with pride.  “It’s only while the ground is froze solid you can do this kind o’ minin’.  I’ve had to burn the ground clean down to bed-rock.  Yes, sir, thawed my way inch by inch to the old channel.”

“Well, and what have you found?”

“S’pose we pan some o’ this dirt and see.”

His slow caution impressed his hearers.  They made up a fire, melted snow, and half filled a rusty pan with gravel and soil from the bottom of the pit.

“Know how to pan?”

The Colonel and the Boy took turns.  They were much longer at it than they ever were again, but the mackinaw man seemed not in the least hurry.  The impatience was all theirs.  When they had got down to fine sand, “Look!” screamed the Boy.

“By the Lord!” said the Colonel softly.

“Is that—­”

“Looks like you got some colours there.  Gosh!  Then I ain’t been dreamin’ after all.”

“Hey?  Dreamin’?  What?  Look!  Look!”