more, timing
our steps by the blows of the hatchet, until we could see the man's head
and shoulders; but we did not gain much by that, as he had his back to
us and was too intent upon his work to turn round. At length, however,
he ceased chopping, and gathering the chips of frozen sand in his hands,
he cast them to one side. In doing so, he showed his face for a moment,
and in that brief glimpse I recognized who it was.

Joe looked at me with raised eyebrows, as much as to say, "Do you know
him?" to which I replied with a nod, and laying my hand on my
companion's arm, I drew him back until only the top of the man's hat was
visible again, when I whispered, "It's Long John Butterfield."

"What! The man they call 'The Yellow Pup'? How do you suppose _he_ came
to hear of the black sand?"

"From Yetmore. He is a prospector whom Yetmore grub-stakes every
summer."

"'Grub-stakes,'" repeated Joe, inquiringly.

"Yes. Some prospectors go out on their own account, you know, but some
of them are 'grub-staked.' This man is employed by Yetmore. He sends
him out prospecting every spring, providing him with tools and 'grub'
and paying him some small wages. Whether it is part of the bargain that
Long John is to get any share of what he may find, I don't know, but
probably it is--that is the general rule. There is very little doubt
that Yetmore has sent him out now, just as Tom has sent us out, to see
which stream the lead-ore in the pool came from."

"Not a doubt of it. Well, shall we go ahead and speak to him?"

Before I could reply, the man himself rose up, looked about him, and at
once espied us. At seeing us standing there silently watching him, he
gave a not-unnatural start of alarm, but perceiving that he had only two
boys to deal with, even if we were pretty big, he climbed up the bank
and advanced towards us with a threatening air.

Standing six feet five inches in his over-shoes, he was a rather
formidable-looking object as he came striding down upon us, a shovel in
one hand and a hatchet in the other; but as we knew him by reputation
for a blusterer and a coward, we awaited his coming without any alarm
for our safety.

Long John Butterfield was a well-known character in Sulphide. Though a
prospector all summer, he was a bar-room loafer all winter, spending his
time hanging around the saloons, and doing only work enough in the way
of odd jobs to keep himself from starving until spring came round again,
when Yetmore