“Why should they?” furiously. “What chance will there be now for the men who went into the country first—what chance will there be for me?” Again he threw out his arms, he seemed to put from him all hope; his mouth was bitter with the very taste of his words. “You'll have as good a chance as any,” retorted Gibbs, still toying with his glass. “And, pardon me, you're a fool to expect more than that.” “If what the Eastern papers say is true, there will be gold enough for all who are likely to go in search of it,” interrupted Bushrod Landray, good-naturedly. “You are Truman Rogers?” Rogers nodded dully. “And you are direct from California?” continued Landray. “I left there five months ago, Mister.” “You don't remember us, perhaps, I am Bushrod Landray, and this is my brother, Stephen,” and he held out his hand. “You have reasons for believing this news of Captain Gibbs to be true?” “Mighty good reasons, too; that's what brought me here, fetched me all this distance, when I wa'n'. fit to travel.” “You know the gold to be there?” and Landray regarded the Californian with quickened interest. Rogers hesitated a moment; concealment had become second nature to him. At last he said, “I reckon I know as much about that as any man alive,” and now his sunken eyes began to flash, and the colour came and went on his waxen cheeks, his long fingers opened and closed convulsively. “I've seen it with my own eyes. I thought I was the only one who knew it was there, but the word must have come around the Horn on the next ship that sailed after the one I took, Sutter's Fort—that's a good hundred miles from where I found it.” “What I'd like to know,” and Mr. Tucker cleared his throat impressively, “Is how you found it?” “It's in small nuggets, or like fine dust.” “The gold is?” said Mr. Tucker. “Yes.” “It's agin nature. Blamed if it ain't fishy,” and Mr. Tucker shook his head dubiously. “It may be true; mind, I'm not disputing your word; but I don't believe it. No sir, it's agin nature,” reiterated Mr. Tucker. “I reckon you didn't pick out much now, did you?” he added shrewdly. “No,” said Rogers regretfully, “I didn't. I ain't fit any more; I got an Indian arrow through my right lung,” here a violent fit of coughing interrupted him. “No, you ain't fit any more,” agreeed Mr. Tucker commiseratingly.