on of an evening of "free
liquor" and forgetfulness of the past had brought them there now.
Among them, and yet not of them, was a young man who, although speaking
English without accent, was distinctly of a different nationality and
race. This, with a certain neatness of dress and artificial suavity
of address, had gained him the nickname of "the Count" and "Frenchy,"
although he was really of Flemish extraction. He was the Union Ditch
Company's agent on the Bar, by virtue of his knowledge of languages.

Barker uttered an exclamation of pleasure when he saw him. Himself the
incarnation of naturalness, he had always secretly admired this young
foreigner, with his lacquered smoothness, although a vague consciousness
that neither Stacy nor Demorest shared his feelings had restricted their
acquaintance. Nevertheless, he was proud now to see the bow with which
Paul Van Loo entered the cabin as if it were a drawing-room, and perhaps
did not reflect upon that want of real feeling in an act which made the
others uncomfortable.

The slight awkwardness their entrance produced, however, was quickly
forgotten when the blanket was again lifted from the pan of treasure.
Singularly enough, too, the same feverish light came into the eyes of
each as they all gathered around this yellow shrine. Even the polite
Paul rudely elbowed his way between the others, though his artificial
"Pardon" seemed to Barker to condone this act of brutal instinct. But it
was more instructive to observe the manner in which the older locators
received this confirmation of the fickle Fortune that had overlooked
their weary labors and years of waiting to lavish her favors on the new
and inexperienced amateurs. Yet as they turned their dazzled eyes upon
the three partners there was no envy or malice in their depths, no
reproach on their lips, no insincerity in their wondering satisfaction.
Rather there was a touching, almost childlike resumption of hope as they
gazed at this conclusive evidence of Nature's bounty. The gold had been
there--THEY had only missed it! And if there, more could be found! Was
it not a proof of the richness of Heavy Tree Hill? So strongly was this
reflected on their faces that a casual observer, contrasting them with
the thoughtful countenances of the real owners, would have thought them
the lucky ones. It touched Barker's quick sympathies, it puzzled Stacy,
it made Demorest more serious, it aroused Steptoe's active contempt.
Whiskey Di