gold--plenty o' gold."

"But," said Salaman, "there are few things more mysterious than its
whereabouts or why it should be where it is. Don't talk to me about
mining experts--we've had 'em here. But who can explain the mystery of
Minook? There are six claims in all this country that pay to work. The
pay begins in No. 5; before that, nothing. Just up yonder, above No.
10, the pay-streak pinches out. No mortal knows why. A whole winter's
toiling and moiling, and thousands of dollars put into the ground,
haven't produced an ounce of gold above that claim or below No. 5. I
tell you it's an awful gamble. Hunter Creek, Hoosier, Bear, Big Minook,
I You, Quail, Alder, Mike Hess, Little Nell--the whole blessed country,
rivers, creeks, pups, and all, staked for a radius of forty miles just
because there's gold here, where we're standing."

"You don't mean there's _nothing_ left!"

"Nothing within forty miles that somebody hasn't either staked or made
money by abandoning."

"Made money?"

Salaman laughed.

"It's money in your pocket pretty nearly every time you don't take up a
claim. Why, on Hunter alone they've spent twenty thousand dollars this
winter."

"And how much have they taken out?"

With index-finger and thumb Salaman made an "O," and looked shrewdly
through it.

"It's an awful gamble," he repeated solemnly.

"It doesn't seem possible there's _nothing_ left," reiterated the Boy,
incredulous of such evil luck.

"Oh, I'm not saying you may not make something by getting on some other
fellow's property, if you've a mind to pay for it. But you'd better not
take anything on trust. I wouldn't trust my own mother in Alaska.
Something in the air here that breeds lies. You can't believe anybody,
yourself included." He laughed, stooped, and picked a little nugget out
of the dump. "You'll have the same man tell you an entirely different
story about the same matter within an hour. Exaggeration is in the air.
The best man becomes infected. You lie, he lies, they all lie. Lots of
people go crazy in Alaska every year--various causes, but it's chiefly
from believing their own lies."

They returned to Rampart.

It was decidedly inconvenient, considering the state of their finances,
to have thrown away that five hundred dollars on McGinty. They messed
with Keith, and paid their two-thirds of the household expenses; but
Dawson prices reigned, and it was plain there were no Dawson prizes.

"Well," said the Colonel in the