started up the trail, leading the
burro. The old miner remained behind, saying that he expected company
and his help was not needed in recovering the pilfered gold. The
anxiety of the men and boys did not lessen until they reached the
well-remembered spot and found the canvas bags intact. They were
carefully loaded upon the strong back of the animal, secured in place,
and the homeward journey begun. Frank and Roswell walked at the rear,
to make sure none of the gold was lost. In due time they reached their
primitive home, with all their wealth in hand.

To their surprise, Jeff was absent. The recent experience of the three
confirmed them in their resolution not to leave the nuggets and dust
unguarded for a single hour. While some were at work in the diggings,
one at least would be at the cavern on the watch against dishonest
visitors. It was agreed that Tim and Roswell should go to the little
valley to resume work, while Frank with the Winchester and smaller
weapon acted as sentinel.

As the two were on the point of setting out, Jeff Graham appeared with
two well-dressed gentlemen, both in middle life. They were talking
earnestly, and halted just beyond earshot to complete what they had to
say. Then, without waiting to be introduced to Jeff's friends, they
bade him good-day, and hurried down the path to where their horses were
waiting, and lost no time in returning to Dawson City.

"Get ready to foller," was the curt command of Jeff; and within the
following hour the whole party, including the donkey, were on the road.
They were compelled to spend one of the short nights in camp, but
reached Dawson City without the slightest molestation from any one or
the loss of a dollar's worth of gold. As Jeff had announced his
intention, they brought away only their auriferous harvest and such
clothing as was on their bodies. At the hotel he held another long
interview with the two gentlemen who had called on him at the diggings;
and the first steamer down the Yukon, which was now fairly open, bore
among its hundreds of passengers Jeff Graham, Tim McCabe, Roswell
Palmer, and Frank Mansley. The combined gold of the fortunate
passengers on that trip must have amounted to nearly a million dollars.

Some weeks later Jeff and Tim were seated alone in one of the rooms at
the Palace Hotel, San Francisco. They had met by appointment to close
up the business which had taken them into the Klondike region.

"You know, Tim," said the old