“You pestle her, pardner, an’ I’ll fix the scales.” McTeague ground the lumps to fine dust in the iron mortar while Cribbens set up the tiny scales and got out the “spoons” from their outfit.
“That’s fine enough,” Cribbens exclaimed, impatiently. “Now we’ll spoon her. Gi’ me the water.”
Cribbens scooped up a spoonful of the fine white powder and began to spoon it carefully. The two were on their hands and knees upon the ground, their heads close together, still panting with excitement and the exertion of their run.
“Can’t do it,” exclaimed Cribbens, sitting back on his heels, “hand shakes so. You take it, pardner. Careful, now.”
McTeague took the horn spoon and began rocking it gently in his huge fingers, sluicing the water over the edge a little at a time, each movement washing away a little more of the powdered quartz. The two watched it with the intensest eagerness.
“Don’t see it yet; don’t see it yet,” whispered Cribbens, chewing his mustache. “Leetle faster, pardner. That’s the ticket. Careful, steady, now; leetle more, leetle more. Don’t see color yet, do you?”
The quartz sediment dwindled by degrees as McTeague spooned it steadily. Then at last a thin streak of a foreign substance began to show just along the edge. It was yellow.
Neither spoke. Cribbens dug his nails into the sand, and ground his mustache between his teeth. The yellow streak broadened as the quartz sediment washed away. Cribbens whispered:
“We got it, pardner. That’s gold.”
McTeague washed the last of the white quartz dust away, and let the water trickle after it. A pinch of gold, fine as flour, was left in the bottom of the spoon.
“There you are,” he said. The two looked at each other. Then Cribbens rose into the air with a great leap and a yell that could have been heard for half a mile.
“Yee-e-ow! We got it, we struck it. Pardner, we got it. Out of sight. We’re millionaires.” He snatched up his revolver and fired it with inconceivable rapidity. “Put it there, old man,” he shouted, gripping McTeague’s palm.
“That’s gold, all right,” muttered McTeague, studying the contents of the spoon.
“You bet your great-grandma’s Cochin-China Chessy cat it’s gold,” shouted Cribbens. “Here, now, we got a lot to do. We got to stake her out an’ put up the location notice. We’ll take our full acreage, you bet. You—we haven’t weighed this yet. Where’s the scales?” He weighed the pinch of gold with shaking hands. “Two grains,” he cried. “That’ll run five dollars to the ton. Rich, it’s rich; it’s the richest kind of pay, pardner. We’re millionaires. Why don’t you say something? Why don’t you get excited? Why don’t you run around an’ do something?”
“Huh!” said McTeague, rolling his eyes. “Huh! I know, I know, we’ve struck it pretty rich.”
“Come on,” exclaimed Cribbens, jumping up again. “We’ll stake her out an’ put up the location notice. Lord, suppose anyone should have come on her while we’ve been away.” He reloaded his revolver deliberately. “We’ll drop him all right, if there’s anyone fooling round there; I’ll tell you those right now. Bring the rifle, pardner, an’ if you see anyone, plug him, an’ ask him what he wants afterward.”
They hurried back to where they had made their discovery.
“To think,” exclaimed Cribbens, as he drove the first stake, “to think those other mushheads had their camp within gunshot of her and never located her. Guess they didn’t know the meaning of a ‘contact.’ Oh, I knew I was solid on ‘contacts.’ ”
They staked out their claim, and Cribbens put up the notice of location. It was dark before they were through. Cribbens broke off some more chunks of quarts in the vein.
“I’ll spoon this too, just for the fun of it, when I get home,” he explained, as they tramped back to the camp.
“Well,” said the dentist, “we got the laugh on those cowboys.”
“Have we?” shouted Cribbens. “Have we? Just wait and see the rush for this place when we tell ’em about it down in Keeler. Say, what’ll we call her?”
“I don’ know, I don’ know.”
“We might call her the ‘Last Chance.’ ’Twas our last chance, wasn’t it? We’d ’a’ gone antelope shooting tomorrow, and the next day we’d ‘a’—say, what you stopping for?” he added, interrupting himself. “What’s up?”
The dentist had paused abruptly on the crest of a canyon. Cribbens, looking back, saw him standing motionless in his tracks.
“What’s up?” asked Cribbens a second time.
McTeague slowly turned his head and looked over one shoulder, then over the other. Suddenly he wheeled sharply about, cocking the Winchester and tossing it to his shoulder. Cribbens ran back to his side, whipping out his revolver.
“What is it?” he cried. “See anybody?” He peered on ahead through the gathering twilight.
“No, no.”
“Hear anything?”
“No, didn’t hear anything.”
“What is it then? What’s up?”
“I don’ know, I don’ know,” muttered the dentist, lowering the rifle. “There was something.”
“What?”
“Something—didn’t you notice?”
“Notice what?”
“I don’ know. Something—something or other.”
“Who? What? Notice what? What did you see?”
The dentist let down the hammer of the rifle.
“I guess it wasn’t anything,” he said rather foolishly.
“What d’you think you saw—anybody on the claim?”
“I didn’t see anything. I didn’t hear anything either. I had an idea, that’s all; came all of a sudden, like that. Something, I don’ know what.”
“I guess you just imagined something. There ain’t anybody within twenty miles of us, I guess.”
“Yes, I guess so, just imagined it, that’s the word.”
Half an hour later they had the fire going. McTeague was frying strips of bacon over the coals, and Cribbens was still chattering and exclaiming over their great strike. All at once McTeague put down the frying-pan.
“What’s that?” he growled.
“Hey? What’s what?” exclaimed Cribbens, getting up.
“Didn’t you notice something?”
“Where?”
“Off there.” The dentist made a vague gesture toward the eastern horizon. “Didn’t you hear something—I mean see something—I mean—”
“What’s the matter with you, pardner?”
“Nothing. I guess I just imagined it.”
But it was not imagination. Until midnight the partners lay broad awake, rolled in their blankets under the open sky,
