ruth had time to ponder her father’s unfinished story, for a week elapsed before she could persuade him to continue it. osborne was away for a few days, and when he came home his preoccupied manner suggested that he had business of importance on hand, and ruth refrained from questioning him. the subject, however, had its fascination for the girl. she had been too young to retain more than a hazy recollection of her father in his struggling days, and she had fallen into the way of thinking of him as the polished and prosperous gentleman whom she had rejoined after a long separation. now it was difficult to readjust her ideas and picture him as a needy adventurer, taking strange risks and engaging in occupations of doubtful respectability. she was, she hoped, not hypercritical, but she found it hard to reconcile the two sharply contrasted sides of his character.

at last, one evening, when they strolled across the lawn as dusk was falling, she determinedly led up to the subject, regardless of the smile with which he evaded her first questions.

“i don’t know why you should be so bent on hearing about the mine,” he said. “on the whole, i’d rather forget the thing, because good luck never followed the gold that was taken from snowy creek. there seemed to be a curse upon it.”

they sat down on a bench beneath a tall, ragged pine, and osborne lighted a cigar.

“well,” he began, “some time after the klondyke rush started, when gold had been found freely on american as well as canadian soil, i went up to alaska to re-locate the mine. clay had gone north before this, but not as a miner—he said it was cheaper to let somebody else dig the gold for him. he had a share in a wooden steamboat, started a transport service to several mining camps, and financed prospectors who made lucky finds. everything he touched prospered, and the man was popular where the canvas towns sprang up; so i was not surprised when i found him unenthusiastic about my project. however, after much persuasion, he agreed to come, and we set off with two hired packers and supplies enough to give us a good chance of success.

“summer was late that year, and we hauled the hand-sledges two hundred miles over the snow; but i needn’t tell you about our journey. we made it with some trouble, and one afternoon came down to the creek, wet and worn out, plowing through belts of melting snow and soft muskegs made by the sudden thaw. i had hide moccasins which were generally soaked and they had given out under the fastenings of the snowshoes. my foot, which had been frost-bitten on the march when i first found the mine, was cut deep, and it cost me a pretty grim effort to hold out for the last few miles. i made it because i couldn’t let another night come before i learned my luck. all i had was in the venture, and if it failed i must go back to camp destitute.”

“one can understand that you were anxious.”

“it was hard to keep cool, but weariness and pain steadied me. i believe i showed no excitement, but i envied the others’ calm. i can picture them now: clay, shuffling along in his old skin-coat and torn gum-boots; the two packers, grumbling at the slush and bent a little by their loads. all round us a desolate wilderness ran back to the skyline; gray soil and rocks streaked with melting snow, out of which patches of withered scrub stuck forlornly. well, we struck the creek, by compass, near where i intended, for soon afterward i picked up one landmark and clay another.”

“clay? but he hadn’t been there before!”

“you’re keen,” osborne observed. “we had often talked over my plans, and he must have known nearly as much about the place as i did. then one couldn’t mistake a prominent strip of rising ground, though it was some distance off when clay saw it.”

“but the mine?”

“we made the spot in the evening, and i got there first, though it hurt me badly to put down my foot, and i’ve sometimes thought clay held back to let me pass. then i had to get a stern grip on my self-control, and for a few moments i stood there with my hands clenched, unable to speak. where i had left a small hole there was a large one, and a great pile of tailings was thrown up in the bed of the creek. it was obvious that we had come too late.”

“how dreadful!” ruth exclaimed. “after all you had gone through, it must have been almost too hard to bear. what did you do?”

“i can’t remember. clay was the first to speak and i can recall his level voice as he said, ‘it looks as if somebody has been here before us, partner!’”

“but how inadequate and commonplace! didn’t he do anything?”

“he sat down on his pack and lighted a cigar; but he was always cool in time of strain. all i remember of my own doings was that some time afterward i fired a stick of dynamite at the bottom of the hole and dug out the bits and half-thawn dirt until it was dark. i knew it was wasted labor, because whoever had found the pocket wouldn’t have stopped until he had cleaned it up. then i threw down my tools and lay among the stones, limp and shivering, while clay began to talk.”

“but who had found the mine?” ruth interrupted.

“i never learned. but clay dealt with the situation sensibly. after all, he said, it was only a pocket; a small alluvial deposit. the stream which had brought the gold there had, no doubt, left some more in the slacker eddies, and it might be worth while to look for the mother-lode, where the metal came from. we had food enough to last while we prospected the neighborhood. the next morning we set about it, and, following up the creek, we found gold here and there; but our provisions threatened to run out before we came to the watershed.”

“were any of the pockets as rich as the stolen one?” ruth asked.

“no,” her father answered with a hint of reserve. “still, we found some gold and got back safely to the coast. for a while i helped clay, and then he told me he must go south before the ice closed in. we sailed in the vessel that he and some of his friends had bought, and when we rowed off to her one misty day through a heavy surf i did not look forward to a comfortable trip. she was an old wooden steamer that had been whaling, with tall bulwarks and cut-down masts, and the topsail yards she still carried gave her a top-heavy look. the small, dirty saloon and part of the ’tween-decks were crowded with successful miners and others who were at least fortunate in having money enough to take them out of the country before winter set in. none of them, i think, wished to see the north again, and nobody who knew it could blame them. those who had gold had earned it by desperate labor and grim endurance; those who had none were going back broken men—frost-bitten, crippled by accidents, and ravaged by disease.

“we had some trouble in getting to sea. several of the crew had deserted, and the rest were half-mutinous because they had been forcibly kept on board. they struck me as a slipshod, unsailorly lot. to make things worse, it was blowing fresh on-shore, and she lay, straining at her cables and dipping her bows, in the long roll, in an open roadstead. they broke a messenger chain that drove the rickety windlass in getting the stream anchor up, and the miners had to help with tackles before they could bring the kedge to the bows. then she crawled slowly out to sea under half steam, and, although there was not much prospect of it, i hoped she would make a quick passage. the young first mate and one of the engineers seemed capable men, but there was nothing to recommend the rest, and the skipper was slack and too convivial in his habits. he was a little, slouching man, with an unsteady look.”

“how did such an old ship get passengers, and why didn’t they engage a better crew?” ruth wanted to know.

“passengers were not particular during the gold rush, and good seamen were scarce on the pacific slope. all who were worth anything had gone off to the diggings.”

“oh! where was the gold she carried kept?”

“in a strong-room under the floor of the stern cabin; that is, the gold that was formally shipped by her, because i believe some of the miners carried as much as possible on their persons and stowed the rest under their bunks. anyway, you saw men keeping watch while the bedroom stewards were at work, and i imagine it would have been dangerous to mistake one’s berth at night. i generally struck a match to make sure of my number. however, for the most part, the passengers seemed an honest lot, and i had more confidence in them than i had in the crew.

“our troubles began on the first day out, for she burst a pipe in the engine room; but there was no excitement when she stopped and a cloud of steam rushed out of the skylights. men who had faced the alaskan winter in the wilds and poled their boats through the rapids when the ice broke up were not easily alarmed.

“‘the blamed old boiler’s surely blowing. guess that means another day or two on the road,’ one remarked, and the fellow he spoke to coolly lighted his pipe.

“‘well,’ he said, ‘they’ve got some sails up there. she’ll make it all right if you give her time.’

“she lay a good many hours in the trough of the sea, rolling so wildly that nobody could keep his feet, while a miner and the second engineer strapped the pipe with copper wire and brazed the joint; but the next accident was more serious. she was steaming before a white sea with two topsails set when there was a harsh grinding and the engines stopped with a bang. a collar on the propeller shaft had given way, the bolts had broken, and until it could be mended there was nothing to connect the engines with the screw.

“they set more sail while the engineers got to work; and some hours later clay and i were sitting in the captain’s room. clay took the accident lightly, but the skipper had a nervous look and had been drinking more than was good for him. there was a bottle in the rack, and clay was filling a glass when a miner came in. he was a big man with a quiet, brown face and searching eyes.

“‘can your engine crowd fix this thing, cap?’ he asked.

“‘they’re trying,’ said the skipper shortly. ‘it may take some time.’

“‘what are you going to do while they’re at the job?’

“‘head south under sail.’ the skipper began to look angry. ‘is there anything else you want to know?’

“‘just this—do you reckon you can handle her all right with the boys you have?’

“the skipper got up with a red face, and i expected trouble, but clay glanced at the miner and pulled the skipper down.

“‘you had better answer him,’ he said.

“‘if the wind holds, i can keep her on her course until the engines start. that should be enough for you.’

“‘certainly,’ said the miner. ‘if you’d found the contract too big, we’d have found you boys to help with the shaft or get sail on her. anyway, if you want them later, you can let me know.’ then he went out and the skipper drained his glass. it was a thing he did too often.”

“but could the miner have done what he promised?” ruth interrupted.

“it’s very likely. in fact, i think if we had wanted a doctor, an architect, or even a clergyman, we could have found one among the crowd on board. the fellow certainly found two or three mechanics, and once i crawled into the shaft tunnel to watch them at work. as it was impossible to get the damaged length out, they worked at it in place, crouching awkwardly in an iron tube about four feet wide while they cut slots in the iron. there was hardly room to use the hammer and hold the chisel; black oil washed about the tunnel mixed with salt-water that had come in through a strained gland. open lamps smoked and flickered close above their heads as she rolled and the air was foul; but they kept it up in turns with the ship’s engineers for several days while the weather got worse and the boat lurched along before an angry sea with her canvas set. the decks were wet because the big rollers that came up astern splashed in across her rail. it was bitterly cold and a gray haze shut in the horizon. as the captain could get no sights, he had to make his course by dead reckoning, which is seldom accurate.”

“you must have felt anxious with all your gold on board,” ruth said.

“no,” replied osborne, with a moment’s hesitation, which she missed. “clay had insured the vessel and his shipments by her on a kind of floating policy. i believe he had some trouble to effect it, but he managed to get the thing arranged through a broker with whom he had a little influence.”

“clay seems to have a good deal of influence,” ruth thoughtfully remarked. “how does he get it?”

“it’s a gift of his,” osborne answered, with a curious smile. “however, to go back to my tale, i knew the gold was insured, because, as joint owner, i had to sign a declaration about its value, which would go by another vessel with the bill of lading. to tell the truth, i was getting more anxious about my personal safety, for the cold and mist and wild weather were wearing on the nerves. at last, the gale blew itself out; but the haze got thicker as the sea began to fall; and one night i was awakened by a shock that threw me out of my berth. as i got a few clothes on i felt her strike again, and when i ran out on the deck, half dressed, it was clear that she had made her last voyage. she lay, canted over, across the sea, with her after-part sinking and the long swell which still ran breaking over her. you could see the smooth slopes of water roll out of the dark and melt into foam that covered half the deck, while the planking crushed in with a horrible sound as the reef ground through her bilge. there was, however, no panic. the miners quietly helped to swing the boats out; and, seeing that she was holding together, i went with clay and two seamen to open the strong-room. it was reached through a trap in the cabin floor, but some beams in breaking had jambed this fast, and we attacked the deck with bars and axes.

“it was sharply slanted, the poop heaved and worked as the swell roared about it, and a big lamp that still burned hung at an extraordinary angle with the bulkhead. i remember that a maple sideboard which had wrenched itself away and slipped down to leeward, lay, smashed to pieces, in a pool of water; but there was no time to lose in looking about. we all worked well, but clay did more than any of us. he was half dressed, his face was savage and dripping with sweat, and he swung his ax in a fury, regardless of the rest. in fact, his mood puzzled me afterward.”

“but his gold was below!” said ruth.

“it was fully insured,” osborne explained. “i didn’t think clay was likely to make such desperate efforts for the benefit of the underwriters; and he was not acting a part, because when the slant of floor got steeper and we were warned to come out before she slipped off the reef, he shouted reckless offers of money to the men to encourage them to keep on. we might have broken through if we had had a few more minutes, though the strong-room must have been already flooded, but the lamp fell as she reeled when a roller struck her, and we were left in darkness with the water washing about our feet. it drove us out and she was obviously going down when we waded across the after-deck. a boat lay under the quarter, but it was swept clear as soon as i dropped on board, and as we lurched away on the long swell there was a heavy crash. then a blue light flared up and showed us other boats, and only half the wreck left, looming black amid spouting foam.

“it seemed that nobody had been left behind, and those who could row took the oars in turns through the dreary night. in the darkness we missed an island which lay not far off, and it was two days later when we landed on a desolate mainland beach. we were there a fortnight, living, for the most part, on shellfish, and then, fortunately, a canadian sealing schooner ran into a neighboring inlet for water. she took us on board, and, as we filled her up, it was a relief when she transferred us to a wooden propeller off the northern end of vancouver island.”

“then the gold was lost?”

“all that was in the strong-room; the miners saved most of theirs. nobody was blamed for the wreck, the underwriters paid, and when a salvage expedition failed to recover anything, there was an end of the matter. the gold lies at the bottom of the sea, and though i don’t know that i’m superstitious, i think that’s the best place for it. from the beginning, it brought nobody luck.”

“it had a tragic story,” ruth agreed. “i wonder what would happen if somebody fished it up?”

osborne laughed.

“there’s not much fear of that. the wreck must have slipped off the reef soon after we left, because the salvage people found both halves of her in deep water; but the strong tides and the bad weather prevented them from working and they declared that she would be buried in the sand before another attempt could be made.”

he turned to her with a smile in his eyes.

“now, little girl,” he said, “you know all about it, and i hope you’re satisfied.”

“i found it very interesting,” ruth replied with a thoughtful air. “in reality, it was the insurance payment that gave you a start?”

“in a sense.” osborne’s tone was grave. “still, it was not what i’d now consider a large amount, and i’ve sometimes felt that i wouldn’t be sorry for an excuse to give it back.”

“i don’t suppose clay ever felt that way,” ruth said.

“one wouldn’t imagine so. what clay gets he keeps. he’s not the man to let his imagination run away with him.”

osborne rose and strolled across the lawn, but ruth sat still in the gathering dark. it was a curious story she had heard, but she thought she could understand her father’s feeling regarding the gold. it had brought him bitter disappointment and permanent lameness, as well as hardships and suffering. there was, however, something puzzling in clay’s determined attempt to break into the strong-room while the ship was going to pieces. he was insured against all loss, and he was not the man to take undue personal risks. then ruth’s thoughts returned to the gold, which had a fascination for her. after all, it was, perhaps, not impossible that it should be recovered. a spell of unusually fine weather or a change in the currents might make another attempt easier. treasure often had been taken from vessels long after they had sunk. ruth thought of jimmy farquhar, engaged in some mysterious occupation on an island in the north. it seemed extravagant to suppose that he had found the wreck; but it was not impossible. it would be a curious thing if he should bring up from the depth what her father had lost. but her father had said the gold brought bad luck in its train.

the darkness crept up across the lawn and hovered round the girl, enshrouding her, as she thought of jimmy farquhar on the lonely island in the north and puzzled over his connection with the ill-fated gold.