British -- Canada -- Fiction; Love stories; Ranchers -- Canada, Western -- Fiction
Darkness had closed down outside, and the lamp was lighted in Devine's
office, which occupied a projection of the wooden ranch. Behind it stood
the kitchen, and a short corridor, which gave access to both, led back
from its inner door to the main building. Another door opened directly
on to the clearing, and a grove of willows, past which the trail led,
crept close up to it, so that any one standing among them could see into
the room. There was, however, little probability of that happening, for
nobody lived in that stretch of forest, except the miners, whose shanty
stood almost a mile away. Devine sat opposite the captain of the mine
across the little table, and he had let his cigar go out, while his face
was a trifle grim.
"The last clean-up was not particularly encouraging, Tom," he said.
Wilkins nodded, and there was a trace of concern in his face, which was
seamed and rugged, for he was one of the old-time prospectors, who,
trusting solely to their practical acquaintance with the rocks, had
played a leading part in the development of the mineral resources of
that province.
"The trouble is that the next one's going to be worse," he said. "The
pay-dirt's getting scarcer as we cut further in, and I have a notion
that the boys are beginning to notice it now and then, though there's
not a man in the crowd who would make his grub prospecting. They're
road-makers, most of them."
Devine glanced at the little leather-bound book he held, in which was
entered the net yield of gold from the ore the stamps crushed down, and
noted the steady decrease.
"It's quite plain to me that the vein is working out," he said. "It
remains to be seen whether we'll strike better rock with the adit on the
different level. I don't notice very many signs of that yet."
Wilkins shook his head. "I guess I haven't seen any for a week, and
we're spending quite a pile of dollars trying to hold the hillside up.
The signs were all on top," he said. "There are ranges where you can
strike it just as sure and easy as falling off a log, but I guess
something long ago shook these mountains up, and mixed up all the rock.
There's only one man figures he knows how it was done, and he won't talk
about it when he's sensible."
"Allonby, of the Dayspring!" said Devine. "Now, the last time we worried
about the thing you told me you considered our chances good enough to
put your savings in. Would you feel like doing it to-day? I want the
information, not the dollars. You know it's generally wisest to be
straight with me."
"No, sir," said Wilkins, drily, "I wouldn't."
Devine sat thoughtfully silent for a minute or two, and the captain, who
lighted his cigar again, wondered what was in his mind. He felt
tolerably certain there was, as usual, a good deal, and that something
would result from it presently.
"You went through the Dayspring?" Devine said, at length.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account