eir faces were eager with
the proximity of the gold, yet half sullen as they waited to hear what
Lund had to say. Since the attempt against him Lund had said nothing
about their shares. They acknowledged him as master, but they still
rebelled in spirit.

"There's the island," said Lund. "We'll make it afore sundown. The beach
is there, waitin' for us to dig it up. It'll be some job. I don't reckon
it's frozen hard, on'y crusted. If it is we'll bust the crust with
dynamite. But we got to hop to it. There'll be another cold spell after
this one peters out an' the next is like to be permanent. I want the
gold washed out afore then, an' us well down the Strait. It's up to you
to hump yoreselves, an' I'll help the humpin'.

"We'll cradle most of the stuff an', if they's time, we'll flume the
silt tailin's for the fine dust. Providin' we can git a fall of water.
There'll be plenty for all hands to do. An' the shares go as first
fixed. I ain't expectin' you to do the diggin' an' not git a pinch or
two of the dust."

The men's faces lighted, and they shuffled about, looking at one another
with grins of relief.

"No cheers?" asked Lund ironically. "Wall, I hardly expected enny.
Hansen, you'll be one of the foremen, with pay accordin'. Deming."

"I can't dig," said the hunter truculently. "Neither can Beale, with his
ribs."

"You've got a sweet nerve," said Lund. "I reckon you've won enough to be
sure of yore shares, if the boys pay up. Enough for you to do some
diggin' in yore pockets for Beale. His ribs 'ud be whole if you hadn't
started the bolshevik stunt. But I'll find something for both of you to
do. Don't let that worry you none.

"We've got mercury aboard somewhere," Lund continued, to Rainey, when
the men had dispersed, far more cheerful than they had gathered. "We'll
use that for concentration in the film riffles. Hansen'll have rockers
made that'll catch the big stuff. If the worst comes to the worst,
we'll load up the old hooker with the pay dirt an' wash it out on the
way home. I'll strip that beach down to bedrock if I have to work the
toes an' fingers off 'em."

By noon the schooner was glazed in as firmly as a toy model that is
mounted in a glass sea. The wind blew itself entirely out, but the
current bore them steadily on to the clamorous shore, where the swells
were creating promontories, bays, cliffs and chasms in the piled-up
confusion of the floes pounding on the rocks, breaking up or sliding
atop