comes along: 'I hit her over
yonder, bo,' says he, whereupon you insert yourself into a pack-strap,
pound the trail, and the next you know you're a millionaire or two."

"Bah! No more stampedes for me. I've killed myself too often--there's
nothing in 'em. I'm sick of it, I tell you, and I'm going out to God's
country. No more wild scrambles and hardships for Buck."

A step sounded on the chips without, and a slender, sallow man entered.

"Hello, Maynard!" they chorused, and welcomed him to a seat.

"What are you doing out here?"

"D'you bring any chewing with you?"

Evidently he labored under excitement, for his face was flushed and his
eyes danced nervously. He panted from his climb, ignoring their
questions.

"There's been a big strike--over on the Tanana--four bits to the pan."

Forgetting fatigue, Crowley scrambled out of his bunk while the cook
left his steaming skillet.

"When?"

"How d'you know?"

"It's this way. I met a fellow as I came out from town--he'd just come
over--one of the discoverers. He showed me the gold. It's coarse; one
nugget weighed three hundred dollars and there's only six men in the
party. They went up the Tanana last fall, prospecting, and only just
struck it. Three of 'em are down with scurvy, so this one came over the
mountains for fresh grub. It'll be the biggest stampede this camp ever
saw." Maynard became incoherent.

"How long ago did you meet him?" Crowley inquired, excitedly.

"About an hour. I came on the run, because he'll get into camp by
eleven, and midnight will see five hundred men on the trail. Look at
this--he gave me a map." The speaker gloatingly produced a scrap of
writing-paper and continued, "Boys, you've got five hours' start of
them."

"We can't go; we haven't got any dogs," said Buck. "Those people from
town would catch us in twenty miles."

"You don't want dogs," Maynard answered. "It's too soft. You'll have to
make a quick run with packs or the spring break-up will catch you. I
wish I could go. It's big, I tell you. Lord! How I wish I could go!"

They were huddled together, their eyes feverish, their fingers tracing
the pencil-markings. A smell of burning food filled the room, but there
is no obsession more absolute than the gold-lust.

"Get the packs together while me and Buck eats a bite. We'll take the
fox-robe and the Navajo. Glad I've got a new pair of mukluks, 'cause we
need light footgear; but what will you wear, boy? Them hip-boots is to