."

"Oh, Ophir! I don't think you'll ever take a fortune out of Ophir. I
bought a claim there the other day. The man pestered me, so I gave him
five thousand for it, just to get rid of him. It's eight below."

"Why," I said, "that's the claim I staked and got beaten out of."

"You don't say so. Well, now, that's too bad. I bought it from a man
named Spankiller; his brother's a clerk in the gold office. Tell you
what I'll do. I'll let you have it for the five thousand I gave for it."

"No," I answered, "I don't think I want it now."

"All right; think it over, anyway. If you should change your mind, let
me know. Well, I must go. I've got to get into town to-night. That's my
mule-train back there on the trail. I've got pretty nearly ten thousand
ounces over there."

I looked and saw the mules with the gold-packs slung over their backs.
There were four men to guard them, and it seemed to me that in one of
these men I recognised the little wizened figure of the Worm.

I shivered.

"Yes, I've done pretty well," he continued; "but it don't make any
difference. I spend it as fast as I get it. A month ago I didn't have
enough ready cash to pay my cigar bill, yet I could have gone to the
bank and borrowed a hundred thousand. It was there in the dump. Oh, it's
a rum business this mining. Well, good-bye."

He was turning to go when, suddenly, he stopped.

"Oh, by the way, I saw a friend of yours before I left. No need to
mention names, you lucky dog. When's the big thing coming off? Well, I
must congratulate you again. She looks sweeter than ever. Bye-bye."

He was off, leaving a very sinister impression on my mind. In his
parting smile there was a trace of mockery that gravely disquieted me. I
had thought much of Berna during the past few months, but as the gold
fever took hold of me I put her more and more from my mind. I told
myself that all this struggle was for her. In the thought that she was
safe I calmed all anxious fear. Sometimes by not thinking so much of
dear ones, one can be more thoughtful of them. So it was with me. I knew
that all my concentration of effort was for her sake, and would bring
her nearer to me. Yet at Locasto's words all my old longing and
heartache vehemently resurged.

In spite of myself, I was the prey of a growing uneasiness. Things
seemed vastly different, now success had come to me. I could not bear to
think of her working in that ambiguous restaurant, rubbing shoulders
with its un