he creek bed. I've got all that's here, I'm pretty sure.
And you might prospect this creek from end to end and never find
another nugget bigger than a pea. It's rich placer ground, at
that--but this pocket's almost unbelievable. Must be forty pounds of
gold there. And you found it. You're the original mascot, little
person."

He bestowed a bearlike hug upon her.

"Now what?" she asked. "It hardly seems real to pick up several
thousand dollars in half an hour or so like this. What will we do?"

"Do? Why, bless your dear soul," he laughed. "We'll just consider
ourselves extra lucky, and keep right on with the game till the high
water makes us quit."

Which was a contingency nearer at hand than even Bill, with a firsthand
knowledge of the North's vagaries in the way of flood, quite
anticipated.

Three days after the finding of the pocket the whole floor of the creek
was awash. His rocker went downstream overnight. To the mouth of the
canon where the branch sought junction with the parent stream they
could ascend, and no farther. And when Bill saw that he rolled himself
a cigarette, and, putting one long arm across his wife's shoulders,
said whimsically:

"What d'you say we start home?"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE STRESS OF THE TRAIL

Roaring Bill dumped his second pack on the summit of the Klappan, and
looked away to where the valley that opened out of the basin showed its
blurred hollow in the distance. But he uttered no useless regrets.
With horses they could have ridden south through a rolling country,
where every stretch of timber gave on a grass-grown level. Instead
they were forced back over the rugged route by which they had crossed
the range the summer before. Grub, bedding, furs, and gold totaled two
hundred pounds. On his sturdy shoulders Bill could pack half that
weight. For his wife the thing was a physical impossibility, even had
he permitted her to try. Hence every mile advanced meant that he
doubled the distance, relaying from one camp to the next. They cut
their bedding to a blanket apiece, and that was Hazel's load--all he
would allow her to carry.

"You're no pack mule, little person," he would say. "It don't hurt me.
I've done this for years."

But even with abnormal strength and endurance, it was killing work to
buck those ragged slopes with a heavy load. Only by terrible,
unremitting effort could he advance any appreciable distance. From
daybreak till noon they would