he climb was harder for him. "You're so spry, s'pose you just
pack this poke!" He unslung a heavy leather sack from his belt and
gave it to Denny.

"We'd ought to 'a' got an early start," the latter complained. "The
days are gettin' short and I had a rotten fall going down, last time."

Relieved of some fifteen pounds of dead, awkward weight--and nothing
is more awkward to carry than a sizable gold sack--Berg made better
speed, arriving at the cache in time to see Slevin spit on his hands
and fall to digging.

"Every time we open her up I get a shiver," Denny confessed, with a
laugh. "I'm scared to look."

"Humph! Think she's going to get up and walk out on us?" Berg seated
himself, lit his pipe, and puffed in silence for a while. "We ain't
never been seen," he declared, positively. "She's as safe as the Bank
of England as long as you don't get drunk."

"Me drunk! Ha! Me and the demon rum is divorced forever." Slevin's
shovel struck wood and he swiftly uncovered the box, then removed its
top. He, stood for a full minute staring into its interior, then he
cried, hoarsely, "_Jack_!"

Berg was on his feet in an instant; he strode to the excavation and
bent over it. After a time he straightened himself and turned blazing
eyes upon his confederate. Denny met his gaze with the glare of a man
demented.

"Wha'd I tell you?" the latter chattered. "I told you they'd get it.
By God! They have!"

He cast an apprehensive glance over his shoulder. Far below the lights
of the valley were beginning to twinkle, in the direction of Nome the
cross on the Catholic church gleamed palely against the steel-gray
expanse of Behring Sea.

Berg was a man of violent temper; he choked and gasped; his face was
bloated with an apoplectic rage. He began to growl curses deep in his
throat. "_Who_ got it?" he demanded. "Who d'you mean by '_they_'?"

"'Sh-h!" Slevin was panic-stricken; he flung out a nervous, jerky
hand. "Mebbe they're here--now. Look out!"

"Who d'you mean by '_they_'?" the larger man repeated.

"I--God! I dunno! But there must 'a' been more'n one. Five hundred
pounds! One man couldn't pack it!"

"You said '_they_'!" Berg persisted in an odd tone.

Slevin's madly roving gaze flew back and settled upon the discolored
visage thrust toward him, then his own eyes widened. He recoiled,
crying:

"Look here! You don't think I--?" His words ended in a bark.

"I ain't said what I think, but I'm thinkin' fast. Nobody knew it