w
that this was so. There were thoughts and questions in his mind that
must have the well-balanced consideration of his friend's calm mind.

At last he broke the silence with an expletive which expressed
something of the enthusiasm he really felt.

"Gee, what a strike!" he said, in a voice much weaker than his usual
tone. Then he added as an afterthought, "The gorge is chock full of
color. Just git a holt on that handkerchief in my pea-jacket and open
it. Say, handle it easy."

He watched the other search the pockets of the coat lying at the foot
of his blankets. A great light shone in his gray eyes as Bill produced
the handkerchief and began to unfold it. Then, with a raging
impatience, he waited while the deposit he had collected from the
riffles of the sluice-box was examined under the lamplight.

At last Bill raised his eyes, and Kars read there all he wanted to know.

"It's mostly color. There's biggish stuff amongst it."

"That's how I figgered." Kars' tone was full of contentment.

"Well?"

Bill carefully refolded the handkerchief, and laid it beside his
medicine chest.

Kars emitted a sound like a chuckle,

"Oh, it was a bully play," he said. Then, after a moment: "Listen,
I'll tell it from the start."

Kars talked, with occasional pauses, for nearly half an hour. He
detailed the events of the night in the barest outline, and only dealt
closely with the fact of the gold workings. These he explained with
the technicalities necessary between experts. He dwelt upon his
estimate of the quality of the auriferous deposits as he had been able
to make it in the darkness, and from his sense of touch. The final
story of his encounter with Louis Creal only seemed to afford him
amusement in the telling.

"You see, Bill," he added, "that feller must have been sick to death.
I mean finding himself with just the squaws and the fossils left around
when we come along. His play was clear as daylight. He tried to scare
us like a brace of rabbits to be quit of us. It was our bull-headed
luck to hit the place right when we did. I mean finding the neches out
on a trail of murder instead of lying around their teepees."

"Yes. But we're going to get them on our trail anyway."

"Sure we are--when he's rounded 'em up."

Bill produced his timepiece and studied it reflectively.

"It's an hour past midnight," he said. "We'll need to be on the move
with daylight. We best hand them all the mileage we ca