all sounds very simple," replied the venerable gentleman, "but
experience has taught me that big stakes are not won quite so easily.
However, we shall see. When our friend, Scarlett, is ready, _we_ are
ready; and when I say I take up a matter of this kind, you know I mean
to go through with it, even if I have to visit the spot myself and
prospect on my own account. For believe me, gentlemen, this may be the
biggest event in the history of Timber Town." Mr. Crewe had risen to
his feet, and was walking to and fro in front of the younger men. "If
payable gold were found in these hills, this town would double its
population in three months, business would flourish, and everybody would
have his pockets lined with gold. I don't talk apocryphally. I have seen
such things repeatedly, upon the Coast. I have seen small townships
literally flooded with gold, and yet a pair of boots, a tweed coat, and
the commonest necessaries of life, could not be procured there for love
or money."

CHAPTER VII.

Cut-throat Euchre.

"Give the stranger time to sort his cards," said the thin American, with
the close-cropped head.

"Why, certainly, certainly," replied the big and bloated Englishman, who
sat opposite. "Well, my noble, what will you do?"

The Prospector, who was the third player, looked up from his "hand" and
drummed the table with the ends of his dirty fingers.

"What do I make it? Why, I turn it down."

"Pass again," said the American.

"Ditto," said the Englishman.

"Then this time I make it 'Spades,'" said the digger, bearded to the
eyes; his tangled thatch of black hair hiding his forehead, and his
clothes such as would have hardly tempted a rag-picker.

"You make it 'next,' eh?" It was the Englishman who spoke.

"We'll put you through, siree," said the American, who was a small
man, without an atom of superfluous flesh on his bones. His hair stood
upright on his head, his dough-coloured face wore a perpetual smile, and
he was the happy possessor of a gold eye-tooth with which he constantly
bit his moustache. The player who had come to aid him in plucking the
pigeon was a big man with a florid complexion and heavy, sensuous
features, which, however, wore a good-natured expression.

The game was cut-throat euchre; one pound points. So that each of the
three players contributed five pounds to the pool, which lay, gold,
silver and bank-notes, in a tempting pile in the middle of the table.

"Left Bower, gen'le