maddening for them to think of the daily robbery that they
suffered, for the Midas turned out many ounces of gold at every
shift; and more maddening to realize the receiver's shrewdness in
crippling them by his theft of the gold in their safe. That had
been his crowning stroke.

"We MUST get money quick," said Glenister. "Do you think we can
borrow?"

"Borrow?" sniffed Dextry. "Folks don't lend money in Alaska."

They relapsed into a moody silence.

"I met a feller this mornin' that's workin' on the Midas," the old
man resumed. "He came in town fer a pair of gum boots, an' he says
they've run into awful rich ground--so rich that they have to
clean up every morning when the night shift goes off 'cause the
riffles clog with gold."

"Think of it!" Glenister growled. "If we had even a part of one of
those clean-ups we could send Wheaton outside."

In the midst of his bitterness a thought struck him. He made as
though to speak, then closed his mouth; but his partner's eyes
were on him, filled with a suppressed but growing fire. Dextry
lowered his voice cautiously:

"There'll be twenty thousand dollars in them sluices to-night at
midnight."