“Hell! Thirty below ain’t so cold,” answered MacShane, with just a trace of annoyance in his tone. “We got a fire built right away, an’ in half a day we was dried out an’ good as ever. But, what’s doin’ on the creeks? How far down you got, an’ what does she show?” “I’m lookin’ to sluice out big in the spring,” offered Camillo Bill. “Took five ounces out of one pan.” “I’ve took better than an ounce out of a lot of pans,” said Moosehide Charlie, “an’ I know I ain’t into the good stuff yet. I ain’t only about ten foot down. But, you’d ought to heard Gordon! He says we’re goin’ to be takin’ out a hundred dollars to the pan----” “He said two hundred, before we struck bed rock,” interrupted Bettles. “And five hundred dollars on bed rock,” added Ace-In-The-Hole. “An’ wood firin’ has got too slow for him,” supplanted Camillo Bill, “so he’s honin’ fer a boiler fer to thaw out the gravel with steam!” A general laugh followed in which Burr MacShane did not join. Camillo Bill was the first to notice that the newcomer’s face had remained grave. “What do you think?” he asked, “You know more about the game than all of us put together.” “Has anyone hit the bottom?” asked MacShane. “No one that I’ve heard of, an’ I reckon us fellows right here would be down as far as any.” “But, it’s all damn foolishness to be talkin’ about a hundred, an’ two hundred, an’ five hundred dollars to the pan,” broke in Moosehide Charlie. “Of course we’re ridin’ the biggest strike yet--any strike is plumb out of reason that pans an ounce. But they ain’t no call to go boostin’ it like Gordon. What do you think?” “I think,” answered MacShane, “that Gordon has hit it about right.” A long moment of silence greeted the announcement, during which the sourdoughs stared into each other’s faces, and into the face of the speaker. Bettles was the first to speak. He cleared his throat harshly: “Jest say that again, will you?” “Sure I will. I say, Gordon is right. You’ll all see it--an’ it won’t be long till you do. I took one hundred and forty dollars out of a single pan last evening--an’ I ain’t anywhere near to bed rock.” Again, dead silence greeted the announcement, until suddenly Moosehide Charlie, filling his lungs, let out a whoop, and tried to clamber onto the bar. Bettles and Camillo Bill jerked him back. “Keep still, you fool! Do you want to make a panic? Let ’em go ahead with their cards an’ their dancin’. What they don’t know won’t hurt ’em none, an’ what we do know that they don’t, may do us a lot of good.” Moosehide subsided, and the few who had paused to glance toward the group, resumed their play with remarks about “Moosehide feelin’ his oats.”