s being all he could say.

The two were taken into the cabin and warmed up, while Earl prepared a
thin vegetable soup for them, that being best for their stomachs,
according to the doctor. They could hardly swallow at first, and it was
not until the following morning that they were strong enough to sit up
and tell their stories. They had been wintering back of the woods, but
starvation had driven them forth in an attempt to reach Dawson City for
supplies. Their strength had failed them, they had lost their way, and
here they were.

"Take care of us, and we'll pay you well," said one of the miners.
"We've got over a thousand dollars in gold dust with us and ten thousand
in dust and nuggets hidden up at the camp."

"I'm afraid your money won't count up here," replied Foster Portney,
sadly. "We're almost as badly off ourselves. Yet I am willing to share
what I have." A vote was taken, and the miners remained; and that made
two more mouths to feed out of their scanty store.

The first week in April saw them reduced to next to nothing. The flour
was gone, so was the bacon and the canned goods, and it was pork and
beans and stewed dried apples twice a day and nothing more. Every one
looked haggard, and all felt that something must happen soon. Would
spring ever come?

"Pork and beans enough to last about three days yet," said Foster
Portney, as he surveyed the scanty store, with the others standing
around. "Three days, and after that--" He did not finish, and a silence
fell on the crowd. Were they to suffer the pangs of actual starvation,
after all?

CHAPTER XXX.

LAST WASHINGS FOR GOLD.

Just one day before their provisions gave out the skies brightened as if
by magic and the sun came out warmly. They could scarcely believe their
eyes, so sudden was the change. The snow was cleared away from the door,
and every one lost no time in rushing out into the fresh air.

"This is living again!" cried Earl. And then he added: "Let us beat down
a path to Wompole's cottage and see how he is faring."

The others agreed, and soon they had a trail to the next cabin, where an
old Alaskan gold hunter had gone into quarters all by himself. Wompole
was also out, and they shook hands. When questioned he said he had run
out of everything but beans, dried peas, and some smoked salmon, and he
agreed to let them have enough of his stores to last them three days
longer.

"Winter is broke up now," he remarked. "An' I reckon tha