To Win or to Die Part 27

"Here, I say," cried Dallas, "don't begin making quotations."

"Quotations?"

"Yes; that's what the despairing old chap says in Byron's comedy, 'I'm doomed--I'm doomed!' and the other fellow says, 'Don't go on like that; it sounds like swearing when it ain't.'"

"Dal," cried Abel pa.s.sionately, "how can you be so full of folly when we are in such a desperate state?"

"Because I believe in 'Never say die!'" cried the young man cheerily.

"You are cold, man. Allow me, my lord, to spread this purple robe gracefully over your n.o.ble shoulders to keep off the draught. I say, Bel, these blankets are getting jolly black."

"Thanks, Dal."

"And with your lordship's permission I will hang this piece of tapestry over the doorway to enhance the warmth of the glow within. Haven't got a couple of tenpenny nails in your pocket, have you? Never mind; these pegs'll hold it up. Whoo! it does blow. We shall be quite buried in the snow by morning."

"Yes, once more," said Abel gloomily.

"So much the warmer for it, Bel, and save the wood. I say, old chap, we ought to be thankful that we have such a snug den. It would be death to any one to be out to-night."

"Yes; and they would have ceased hunting for that golden myth, and be at rest."

"Well, you are a cheerful chap to-night! I say, I wonder what has become of old 'My son,'--Tregelly, the Cornishman?"

"Dead or broken-hearted over this weary search."

"Dead? Why, that fellow wouldn't die a bit. Broken-hearted? His heart's made of stuff much too tough. He'll turn up some day to tell us he has made a big find."

"Never. He's dead by now."

"Don't you prophesy until after the event."

"Dal," said Abel, as he sat, gaunt of visage, darkened by exposure, and totally different from the bright, eager fellow of a few months earlier.

"Yes?"

"You will not go away and leave me?"

"I must, old fellow. The coals for the human grate are nearly out, and I must fetch some more."

"If you go you will find me dead when you come back. To die alone!

Horrible!"

"Nonsense! Old Norton will come in every day and have a look at you if I ask him. He's a good old chap, Bel; I wish he had had better luck. I say, though, this is a rum game. You and I are now living in this rough dog-kennel, and bad as our luck has been, we have been turning out gold at the rate of, say, five hundred a year. Not bad that for beginners."

"And it takes all we get to barter for the wretched food," groaned Abel.

"The prices are horrible."

"Well, things are dear, and bad at that, as our American friends say.

But we only have to double our turn-in and we shall grow rich."

The wind was whistling and shrieking about the lonely cabin, the tattered blanket over the rough wood doorway was blown in, and the smoke eddied about the corners of the tent as a quant.i.ty of snow came through the opening, and made the fire hiss angrily.

"It won't take me long, old fellow," said Dallas; "and, by the way, I had better buy a tin of powder and some cartridges. Think you'll be well enough to-morrow to clean and oil the guns while I'm down the shaft?"

"I'll try; but the shaft will be full of drifted snow."

"If it is, I'll drift it out."

"What's that?" cried Abel, as a faintly heard howl came from the distance.

"Sounds like wolves. No dog would be out in a night like this."

"Think they will come here and attack us?"

"Don't know. I hope so."

"What!" cried Abel, with a horrified look.

"Give me a chance to do a little shooting if they come in at the chimney hole. Glad of a bit of sport. Supply us with some fresh meat, too."

"What, eat wolf?"

"My dear Bel, I get so hungry that I would eat anything now. But they may taste good. Wolf's a kind of dog; they eat dog in China, and I've heard that the bargees do so on the Thames."

"What?"

"Don't you remember the chaff at Oxford--the fellows asking the bargees, 'Who ate puppy pie under Marlow Bridge?'"

"There it is again."

"Then I'll take the guns out of the cases if they come nearer. They'll be able to walk up the snow slope right on to the roof."

But the sounds died away, and Dallas opened a tin and took out a couple of pieces of roughly made damper, whose crust was plentifully marked with wood ashes.

"I can't eat," said Abel.

"I can, and I'll set you an example. Sorry there is no Strasburg pie or other delicacy to tempt you; and the cook is out, or she should grill you some grouse."

Abel sat nursing his piece of unappetising bread, while Dallas rapidly disposed of his, the smaller piece.

They had been sitting in silence for some time, with Dallas gazing wistfully at his companion.

"Try and eat the damper, old fellow," he said. "You must have food."

"I can't, Dal. I say, how much gold is there in the hole?"

"I daresay there's five-and-twenty ounces."

"You must take it, and contrive to get away from here, Dal," said Abel suddenly.