Nobody ever dreamed of contradicting Demorest.  Nevertheless, Barker persisted eagerly:  “But isn’t it better for us to look at this cheerfully and happily all round?  There’s nothing criminal in our having made a strike!  It seems to me, boys, that of all ways of making money it’s the squarest and most level; nobody is the poorer for it; our luck brings no misfortune to others.  The gold was put there ages ago for anybody to find; we found it.  It hasn’t been tarnished by man’s touch before.  I don’t know how it strikes you, boys, but it seems to me that of all gifts that are going it is the straightest.  For whether we deserve it or not, it comes to us first-hand—­from God!”

The two men glanced quickly at the speaker, whose face flushed and then smiled embarrassedly as if ashamed of the enthusiasm into which he had been betrayed.  But Demorest did not smile, and Stacy’s eyes shone in the firelight as he said languidly, “I never heard that prospecting was a religious occupation before.  But I shouldn’t wonder if you’re right, Barker boy.  So let’s liquor up.”

Nevertheless he did not move, nor did the others.  The fire leaped higher, bringing out the rude rafters and sternly economic details of the rough cabin, and making the occupants in their seats before the fire look gigantic by contrast.

“Who shut the door?” said Demorest after a pause.

“I did,” said Barker.  “I reckoned it was getting cold.”

“Better open it again, now that the fire’s blazing.  It will light the way if any of the men from below want to drop in this evening.”

Stacy stared at his companion.  “I thought that it was understood that we were giving them that dinner at Boomville tomorrow night, so that we might have the last evening here by ourselves in peace and quietness?”

“Yes, but if any one did want to come it would seem churlish to shut him out,” said Demorest.

“I reckon you’re feeling very much as I am,” said Stacy, “that this good fortune is rather crowding to us three alone.  For myself, I know,” he continued, with a backward glance towards a blanketed, covered pile in the corner of the cabin, “that I feel rather oppressed by—­by its specific gravity, I calculate—­and sort of crampy and twitchy in the legs, as if I ought to ‘lite’ out and do something, and yet it holds me here.  All the same, I doubt if anybody will come up—­except from curiosity.  Our luck has made them rather sore down the hill, for all they’re coming to the dinner to-morrow.”

“That’s only human nature,” said Demorest.

“But,” said Barker eagerly, “what does it mean?  Why, only this afternoon, when I was passing the ‘Old Kentuck’ tunnel, where those Marshalls have been grubbing along for four years without making a single strike, I felt ashamed to look at them, and as they barely nodded to me I slinked by as if I had done them an injury.  I don’t understand it.”

“It somehow does not seem to square with this ‘gift of God’ idea of yours, does it?” said Stacy.  “But we’ll open the door and give them a show.”