snug den. It would be death to
any one to be out to-night."

"Yes; and they would have ceased hunting for that golden myth, and be at
rest."

"Well, you are a cheerful chap to-night! I say, I wonder what has
become of old `My son,'--Tregelly, the Cornishman?"

"Dead or broken-hearted over this weary search."

"Dead? Why, that fellow wouldn't die a bit. Broken-hearted? His
heart's made of stuff much too tough. He'll turn up some day to tell us
he has made a big find."

"Never. He's dead by now."

"Don't you prophesy until after the event."

"Dal," said Abel, as he sat, gaunt of visage, darkened by exposure, and
totally different from the bright, eager fellow of a few months earlier.

"Yes?"

"You will not go away and leave me?"

"I must, old fellow. The coals for the human grate are nearly out, and
I must fetch some more."

"If you go you will find me dead when you come back. To die alone!
Horrible!"

"Nonsense! Old Norton will come in every day and have a look at you if
I ask him. He's a good old chap, Bel; I wish he had had better luck. I
say, though, this is a rum game. You and I are now living in this rough
dog-kennel, and bad as our luck has been, we have been turning out gold
at the rate of, say, five hundred a year. Not bad that for beginners."

"And it takes all we get to barter for the wretched food," groaned Abel.
"The prices are horrible."

"Well, things are dear, and bad at that, as our American friends say.
But we only have to double our turn-in and we shall grow rich."

The wind was whistling and shrieking about the lonely cabin, the
tattered blanket over the rough wood doorway was blown in, and the smoke
eddied about the corners of the tent as a quantity of snow came through
the opening, and made the fire hiss angrily.

"It won't take me long, old fellow," said Dallas; "and, by the way, I
had better buy a tin of powder and some cartridges. Think you'll be
well enough to-morrow to clean and oil the guns while I'm down the
shaft?"

"I'll try; but the shaft will be full of drifted snow."

"If it is, I'll drift it out."

"What's that?" cried Abel, as a faintly heard howl came from the
distance.

"Sounds like wolves. No dog would be out in a night like this."

"Think they will come here and attack us?"

"Don't know. I hope so."

"What!" cried Abel, with a horrified look.

"Give me a chance to do a little shooting if they come in at the chimney
hole. Glad of a b