his courage to make a dash for the open himself. His eyes
followed her step by step. Oh, if only he would look in some other
direction! If any one of them saw Gratton's tell-tale face----

Then Gratton began a slow withdrawal from the others; he meant to do as
he saw her doing.

"Heavy laka hell," the Italian was saying. "Justa da gold do that!"

"Give me that, Tony," snarled Brodie. He snatched the mass from the
other's hands. "That's the biggest nugget any man living ever saw."

Gloria tasted the clean fresh outside air; she was within three paces of
the line of snow. Then there was a sudden noise; Gratton, inching off
backward, had stumbled over a dead stick. The men by the fire were
startled out of their oblivion. Steve Jarrold, the one nearest Gloria,
swung about, saw her, dropped what was in his hands, and lunged towards
her. She made a dash for the exit. In two great strides Jarrold was upon
her and had caught her by the shoulders, dragging her back. And Gratton
stood again, his feet glued to the ground; she could see the flash of
his teeth gnawing at his fingers.

"Trying to make a sneak for it!" boomed Brodie. "I'll show you----"

"Not yet, Brodie, you big fool!" yelled Benny. "This is only a sackful,
and not full at that. It's the rest of it we're after--the whole lousy
mess. He's got to show us where this come from."

"I am not trying to get away," said Gratton, though his tone did not
convince. "Haven't I made good already? Haven't I kept my promise? Am I
not ready to do whatever I can?"

"Talk's cheap," retorted Brodie. "Get busy, then."

Gratton, struggling already in the meshes of the net drawing ever
tighter about him, pointed to Gloria with shaking finger. He swallowed
twice and moistened his lips to speak.

"King found it first. She was with him. I made her show me the sack of
gold. I was going to go back to your camp, to tell you----"

"Cut it," commanded Brodie. "Leave out the lies and talk straight and
fast. Where is the rest of it? Where did this come from?"

"I'm trying to tell you," said Gratton hurriedly. "There--there's
another cave; up above. That's where King had his camp; that where's I
got the sack. It's up there----"

"No wonder she wanted to skip out," jeered Steve Jarrold, his great
bony hand locked about Gloria's shrinking shoulder. His ill-featured
face, the small, pig eyes, always jeering, the black bristle of beard,
not unlike a hog's bristles, were thrust close to her