rift. We had gone down to bed-rock, and were tunnelling in to meet the
hole the Halfbreed had covered up. So far we had found nothing. Every
day we panned samples of the dirt, always getting colours, sometimes a
fifty-cent pan, but never what we dreamed of, hoped for.

"Wait, boys, till we get a two-hundred-dollar pan, then we'll begin to
whoop it up some."

Once the Company Manager came down on a dog-team. He looked over our
shaft. He wore a coon coat, with a cap of beaver, and huge fur mits hung
by a cord around his neck. He was massive and impassive. Spiky icicles
bristled around his mouth.

"What luck, boys?" His breath came like steam.

"None, so far," we told him, wearily, and off he went into the frozen
gloom, saying he hoped we would strike it before long.

"Wait a while."

We were working two men to a shaft, burning our ground over night. The
Prodigal and I manned the windlasses, while the old miners went down the
drifts. It was a cold, cold job standing there on that rugged platform
turning the windlass-crank. Long before it was fairly light we got to
our posts, and lowered our men into the hole. The air was warmer down
there; but the work was harder, more difficult, more dangerous.

At noon there was no sunshine, only a wan, ashen light that suffused the
sky. A deathlike stillness lay on the valley, not a quiver or movement
in leaf or blade. The snow was a shroud, smooth save where the funereal
pines pricked through. In that intensity of cold, that shivering agony
of desolation, it seemed as if nature was laughing at us--the Cosmic
Laugh.

Our meals were hurriedly cooked and bolted. We grudged every moment of
our respite from toil. At night we often were far too weary to undress.
We lost our regard for cleanliness; we neglected ourselves. Always we
talked of the result of the day's panning and the chances of to-morrow.
Surely we would strike it soon.

"Wait awhile."

Colder it grew and colder. Our kerosene flowed like mush. The water
froze solid in our kettle. Our bread was full of icy particles.
Everything had to be thawed out continually. It was tiresome,
exasperating, when we were in such a devil of a hurry. It kept us back;
it angered us, this pest of a cold. Our tempers began to suffer. We were
short, taciturn. The strain was beginning to tell on us.

"Wait awhile."

Then, one afternoon, the Something happened. It was Jim who was the
chosen one. About three o'clock he signalled to be hoist