's strike's so
big that we-all can't see it all. It's a lottery. Every claim I buy
is a ticket. And there's sure going to be some capital prizes."

Jacob Wilkins, standing in the open door, sniffed incredulously.

"Now supposing, Wilkins," Daylight went on, "supposing you-all knew it
was going to rain soup. What'd you-all do? Buy spoons, of course.
Well, I'm sure buying spoons. She's going to rain soup up there on the
Klondike, and them that has forks won't be catching none of it."

But Wilkins here slammed the door behind him, and Daylight broke off to
finish the purchase of the claim.

Back in Dawson, though he remained true to his word and never touched
hand to pick and shovel, he worked as hard as ever in his life. He had
a thousand irons in the fire, and they kept him busy. Representation
work was expensive, and he was compelled to travel often over the
various creeks in order to decide which claims should lapse and which
should be retained. A quartz miner himself in his early youth, before
coming to Alaska, he dreamed of finding the mother-lode. A placer camp
he knew was ephemeral, while a quartz camp abided, and he kept a score
of men in the quest for months. The mother-lode was never found, and,
years afterward, he estimated that the search for it had cost him fifty
thousand dollars.

But he was playing big. Heavy as were his expenses, he won more
heavily. He took lays, bought half shares, shared with the men he
grub-staked, and made personal locations. Day and night his dogs were
ready, and he owned the fastest teams; so that when a stampede to a new
discovery was on, it was Burning Daylight to the fore through the
longest, coldest nights till he blazed his stakes next to Discovery.
In one way or another (to say nothing of the many worthless creeks) he
came into possession of properties on the good creeks, such as Sulphur,
Dominion, Excelsis, Siwash, Cristo, Alhambra, and Doolittle. The
thousands he poured out flowed back in tens of thousands. Forty Mile
men told the story of his two tons of flour, and made calculations of
what it had returned him that ranged from half a million to a million.
One thing was known beyond all doubt, namely, that the half share in
the first Eldorado claim, bought by him for a half sack of flour, was
worth five hundred thousand. On the other hand, it was told that when
Freda, the dancer, arrived from over the passes in a Peterborough canoe
in the midst of a dri