When night came they camped and rested; amusing themselves for a while with a poker game. Black bottles kept them company. At last trouble arose over the cards. Smithson had indiscreetly allowed his guide a glimpse of his money belt, and though the white man was well armed, in a moment of forgetfulness he allowed the native to pass behind him; when a sudden shot and thud upon the ground quickly settled forever all scores between them. An Indian seldom smiles. This one smiled gloomily now; muttering as he wiped the revolver in his hand: "Him bad white man yesterday,--good man now,--heap long time sleep." Half an hour later the sure-footed Indian cautiously made his way along the trail. Stars twinkled overhead. A well filled money belt, a revolver, and blankets ornamented his person, though only the latter were visible. The "Hidden Ledge" was close at hand, but unknowingly he passed it by; its secret having been, for the present, buried with the two partners who were numbered among the strenuous stampeders on the White Pass Trail. [Illustration] CHAPTER IV A NEW KLONDYKE Two miners sat smoking in a small log cabin in Dawson. They were hardy young fellows, and used the accent of born Canadians. They were brothers, and the elder was speaking. "What's the use of our hanging 'round here all winter doing nothing? The best creeks are all staked, and there isn't the ghost of a show for us to get any first class ground hereabouts. Let's light out, blaze a new trail for ourselves, and prospect in the likeliest places during the winter instead of idling away our time here, eating up high-priced grub and hating ourselves. I'm sick of this camp. What do you say?" "Which way shall we go?" "Any old way. No, it would be better to have some definite idea of the point we wish to reach, of course. We might make for the headwaters of the Klondyke and then east into the unknown country where only a few poor Indians live." "They might prove ugly. What then?" "We could manage them. We would take plenty of grub and ammunition, and a couple of white men, at least, with us." "What makes you think there's gold there? It wouldn't pay us to risk our lives for nothing in such a wilderness. I would be willing to go if I thought our time and efforts might turn up something good." "I have been watching the Indians who come here for supplies from that direction, and they are far from penniless. They carry good-sized pokes of nuggets and dust which they use in trading. They must get these from some of the creeks over east," said the elder of the two men. "They are mum as oysters; one can't get any information from them." "What'll you bet I can't?" "A box of cigars," laughed the younger, whose name seemed appropriately bestowed, for it was Thomas, and he often doubted.