Adventure Magazine Cover — page 56: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

46 and when I fell one short I’d kick myself.”’ “You took it hard,’ observed Nunn. “You oughta play your luck more. A man don’t get anything by workin’.” They ate, and quenched their thirst from a diminishing water supply, then pressed on over & rugged mountain range that taxed both men and animals. They came at length, late in the afternoon, to Lost Creek. Save for the foraging of a mountain-cat, Red’s shack had been undisturbed in the six weeks he had been absent. The shack was set well up on the side of a box cafion. The sluice, however, had been partly car- ried away by the July freshet, and several of the boxes had been scattered half a mile down-stream. It was several days before the men were in a position to start opera- tions, and during this period of repair and preparation Red was brought to a close study of his companion. Red had yet to learn that two men alone in a wilderness may weary one another to the quarreling point, unless they be fast comrades, or unless one recognizes the com- - mand of the other. Nunn, it developed, had an especial talent for carping sugges- tion. He did not like the sluice grade at this point, and he did not like the riffle spac- ing at that point. He was an inexhaustible compendium of annoying proposals, yet his experience had been wholly in quartz min- ing, and he was working for Red at a daily wage. He did not slacken in his fault-finding when they commenced washing, but Red resorted to disregarding him as the simplest means of avoiding contention. He also ceased his banter as Nunn grew more and more morose, resenting the indifference of his employer. It was not many weeks be- fore Red was sensible to a steadfast current of ill-feeling that took the edge from the exultation at washing out rich pay. The sluice boxes were yielding thirty per cent over the previous Spring. The July freshet had uncovered a modestly rich bench a hundred feet up-stream from the old sluice-head, and Nunn, who shoveled gravel at the head, fed into the boxes a steady stream of tiny bright particles. Much of this was flour or medium dust, but frequently there appeared a smooth yellow pellet a little larger than the head of a pin. The small hoard in the old cash bag, which bore the name of a Peoria bank, . steadily grew, and at length this hoard over- Adventure flowed and a salt sack was called into ser- vice. Each night Red would weigh the day’s washings or arduously submit the metal to the retorting process which elimi- neted the mercury. Then he would glance across at Nunn sitting in the candlelight and would weigh out the other’s daily wage of nine dollars. It was about this time, when the salt sack was called into use, that Red noted that Nunn watched him narrowly, a strange gleam in his eyes. Red was aware how small that nine-dollar cone of shining metal must appear beside the larger cone that represented Red’s daily income. He won- dered if it were involuntary—the way in which Nunn’s tongue furtively sought the corner of his mouth and was drawn slowly under the black mustache that adorned his upper lip. They washed for another month and filled the salt sack. One evening Red de- cided to go up-stream half a mile to learn if the creek had washed out a good looking ledge it was undermining. His walking was somewhat slow, for he had taken lately, for no sharply defined reason, to carrying the gold sacks on his person. They were growing heavy and were an awkward im- pediment. Red came unexpectedly upon Nunn working a small cradle. He had never be- fore seen it, and he knew instantly that Nunn had constructed it during frequent unexplained absences during the twilight hours, and that he had a hiding-place for it. Red stood for a moment at the verge of the rock face, watching the other, who was oblivious to all but his toil. Then Red re- traced his steps down-stream. He waited at the shack for Nunn to appear with his tale of gold, but he knew the wait was futile. —The man was dishonest. It was time they quitted the claim. Perhaps Butch was in shape to come in. He could ride most of the way and could do light work at the sluice boxes while Red shoveled at the headworks. Several immediate expedients came to Red as he sat with his pipe before the shack, destruction of the rocker, open accusation and banishment. But he rejected them. When Nunn appeared his employer gave no sign that he was acquainted with Nunn’s thievery. It would be folly to antagonize Nunn when they were alone, days from civilization. A claim-robber might not be Go DOOLK 1 @)