He says you 'ain't done assessment, nor you
can't--not now--and you 'ain't got no more right than anybody else to
hold the ground. And so he's meanin' to slap a new location on the
claim the minute this here year is up."

"Wal, the little feller's awful sick," said Jim. "I'm thinkin' of
goin' up in the mountains for some stuff the Injuns sometimes use for
fever."

"You can't go and leave your claim unprotected," said Bone.

"How did Parky happen to tell you his intentions?" said Jim.

"He wanted me to go in with him," Bone replied, flushing hotly at the
bare suggestion of being involved in a trick so mean. "He made me
promise, first, I wouldn't give the game away, but I've got to tell it
to you. I couldn't stand by and see you lose that gold-ledge now."

"To-morrow is New Year's, sure enough," Jim replied, reflectively.
"That mine belongs to little Skeezucks."

"But Parky's goin' to jump it, and he's got a gang of toughs to back
him up."

"I'd hate to lose it, Bone. It would seem hard," said Jim. "But I
ought to go up in the hills to find that shrub. If only I had a horse.
I could go and git back in time to watch the claim."

Bone was clearly impatient.

"Don't git down to the old 'if only' racket now," he said, with heat.
"I busted my word to warn you, Jim, and the claim is worth a fortune to
you and little Skeezucks."

Jim's eyes took on a look of pain.

"But, Bone, if he don't git well," he said--"if he don't git well,
think how I'd feel! Couldn't you get me a horse? If only--"

"Hold on," interrupted Bone, "I'll do all I kin for the poor little
shaver, but I don't expect I can git no horse. I'll go and see, but
the teams has all got the extry stock in harness, fer the roads is
mighty tough, and snow, down the canon, is up to the hubs of the
wheels. You've got to be back before too late or your claim goes up,
fer, Jim, you know as well as me that Parky's got the right of law!"

"If only I could git that shrub," said Jim, as his friend departed, and
back to the tossing little man he went, worried to the last degree.

Bone was right. The extra horses were all in requisition to haul the
ore to the quartz-mill through a stretch of ten long miles of drifted
snow. Moreover, Jim had once too often sung his old "if-only" cry.
The men of Borealis smiled sadly, as they thought of tiny Skeezucks,
but with doubt of Jim, whose resolutions, statements, promises, had
long before been estimated at their