in a corner of the cabin. "Here, you
Billebedam, take a run down to Oleson's cabin like a good fellow, and
tell him we want to borrow his dice box."

This sudden request in the midst of a council on wages of men, wood, and
grub surprised Billebedam. Besides, it was early in the day, and he had
never known white men of the calibre of Pentfield and Hutchinson to dice
and play till the day's work was done. But his face was impassive as a
Yukon Indian's should be, as he pulled on his mittens and went out the
door.

Though eight o'clock, it was still dark outside, and the cabin was
lighted by a tallow candle thrust into an empty whisky bottle. It stood
on the pine-board table in the middle of a disarray of dirty tin dishes.
Tallow from innumerable candles had dripped down the long neck of the
bottle and hardened into a miniature glacier. The small room, which
composed the entire cabin, was as badly littered as the table; while at
one end, against the wall, were two bunks, one above the other, with the
blankets turned down just as the two men had crawled out in the morning.

Lawrence Pentfield and Corry Hutchinson were millionaires, though they
did not look it. There seemed nothing unusual about them, while they
would have passed muster as fair specimens of lumbermen in any Michigan
camp. But outside, in the darkness, where holes yawned in the ground,
were many men engaged in windlassing muck and gravel and gold from the
bottoms of the holes where other men received fifteen dollars per day for
scraping it from off the bedrock. Each day thousands of dollars' worth
of gold were scraped from bedrock and windlassed to the surface, and it
all belonged to Pentfield and Hutchinson, who took their rank among the
richest kings of Bonanza.

Pentfield broke the silence that followed on Billebedam's departure by
heaping the dirty plates higher on the table and drumming a tattoo on the
cleared space with his knuckles. Hutchinson snuffed the smoky candle and
reflectively rubbed the soot from the wick between thumb and forefinger.

"By Jove, I wish we could both go out!" he abruptly exclaimed. "That
would settle it all."

Pentfield looked at him darkly.

"If it weren't for your cursed obstinacy, it'd be settled anyway. All
you have to do is get up and go. I'll look after things, and next year I
can go out."

"Why should I go? I've no one waiting for me--"

"Your people," Pentfield broke in roughly.

"Like you have,