To Win or to Die Part 39

"Did you quarrel?" asked Dallas.

"Quarrel? No, my son," said Tregelly, as he chipped away at the ice.

"They took the right notion one day that there was the long winter to face, and that they'd better share and be off while their shoes was good."

"Well?" said Dallas.

"Well, we shared, and they went home."

Then there was silence, save that the Cornishman went on chipping away at the ice, more and more carefully, for he was getting through the top of the sh.e.l.l, and the golden kernel was near, Scruff watching the proceedings in rather a cynical or dog-like way, as if sneering at the trouble these two-legged animals took to obtain something not good to eat.

"Yes; it's terrible work in the dark," said Abel. "Perhaps they were right."

"But the long days are coming," said Dallas cheerfully, "and then we'll go farther north up one of the other creeks, towards the mountains.

There is abundance of gold if we could find it. And we must--we will find it before we've done."

"That's right, my son," cried Tregelly. "We three won't give up till we've had a reg'lar good try. Now then, here we are: all mixed up and froze into a lump. Just hand me that iron bucket, Mr Wray, and I'll chip it out into that, and throw it down by the fire. Wonder," he added, as he began to break out the gilded ice, "whether there's much of my share left."

The pieces of ice and gold went on rattling down till the last sc.r.a.p was emptied out, and the hollowed block of ice tossed out of the door.

"Let's see," said Tregelly, "my two mates said that at the end of the winter there'd only be about two hundred shillings' worth. But they were wrong," he continued, with a merry laugh, "for all my share's here, and I've added a bit more to it--enough to pay for what we want from down the river; so I haven't done so badly, after all."

"You have done wonders," cried Dallas.

"Oh, I don't know. I've worked pretty hard, though," said Tregelly, giving the contents of the bucket a twist round and pouring off some of the melted ice into another bucket. "Looks pretty, don't it, my sons?

but hardly worth all the trouble one takes to get it."

He pushed the bucket right in among the embers, and the contents began to steam, till all the ice was melted, when the dirty water was drained away and the gold then turned carefully out on the iron cake griddle, baked to dryness on the wood ashes, and then examined.

"That would make Mr Redbeard's ugly mouth water if he could see it, my sons, eh?"

"Yes, it looks tempting," said Dallas. "Put it away."

"Nay; we've agreed to share now, my sons. Let's take out enough for me to spend down the river. Let the other go into your leather bag."

"No, that would not be fair," said Dallas quickly.

"I say it would, my sons; and I ought to know best. Look here: you're going to help me take care of what I've got, and I'm going to help you.

Sometimes you'll get more; sometimes I shall; so you see it will come all square in the end. There," he said, in conclusion, as he roughly sc.r.a.ped a portion of the glittering heap aside, "what do you say to that being enough?"

"I'd take more," said Abel; "provisions will be dearer than ever."

"Right; so they will. Well, that must be plenty. Now then, where's your bag?"

This was produced, rather unwillingly, from the hiding-place.

"That's right," he continued, as the glittering treasure was poured into the leather bag. "Now then, we'll just see what we can do in the way of prog for me to take. I can hold out pretty well on some cake and plenty of tobacco. Then I'll be off."

"When do you mean to go?" said Abel.

"Go, my son? Why, now, directly. Sooner the better. Those chaps won't come back till they want some more prog. I tell you what you might do, though; go to the first shanty and tell the neighbour about those two being out on the rampage, and ask him to pa.s.s the word all along the line."

An hour later Tregelly was ready to start, and shook hands. Then he hesitated.

"What is it?" said Dallas.

"I was thinking whether I ought to go round by my claim and see how that fellow's getting on. Sometimes I'm pulled one way, sometimes I'm pulled another. But going perhaps means a bullet in my jacket, so I won't go."

He threw the leather band over his shoulder, and the next minute the sledge runners were creaking and crackling as they glided over the hardened snow, while Dallas stood listening with his companion till the last sound died out, and then hurriedly fetched load after load of fire-logs, with the dog busily at work exploring the neighbourhood in all directions, coming back at five-minute intervals panting and sending up his visible breath, till Dallas bade him go in.

"Dal," said Abel, after a few minutes' pause, during which they had been stacking the wood neatly in one corner, "don't you feel glad that you saved Scruff's life?"

"I should think I do. He's going to prove a regular policeman on the beat."

A low, deep growl came from the dog.

"Hullo! Does he object to being called a bobby?"

"Hist! No," whispered Abel, darting to the hooks upon which the rifles were hung. For the dog had trotted softly to the door, and stood looking down at the narrow opening at the bottom, and was growling more deeply than before.

"There's some one coming," whispered Dallas, "and that fire makes it as light within here as day."

The two young men darted close to the side, and drew the curtain-like rugs over the door and the little shuttered window.

Just as this was completed the dog growled again, and then burst into a deep-toned bay.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.

THE ENEMY IN THE DARK.

"Ahoy there! Keep that dog quiet," cried a familiar voice from some distance off.

"It's all right," cried Dallas with a sigh of relief. "Norton."

"Here, Scruff, lie down, old man," cried Abel. "Friends, friends."

The dog whined, and waved his bushy tail as the door was opened, and their bluff friend came into the glow shed by the fire.

"How are you, my lads? Haven't seen you for ages. Didn't know you had started a dog."

"He's a visitor," said Dallas. "Come in."

The man entered and looked sideways at the dog, who had begun to smell his legs.

"Not treacherous, is he? Some of these Eskimo are brutes to snap."

"No, he understands you are friends," said Abel. "Lie down, Scruff."