by Jack London
CHAPTER XV
But Corliss did go back to see her, and before the day was out. Alittle bitter self-communion had not taken long to show him hischildishness. The sting of loss was hard enough, but the thought, nowthey could be nothing to each other, that her last impressions of himshould be bad, hurt almost as much, and in a way, even more. Andfurther, putting all to the side, he was really ashamed. He hadthought that he could have taken such a disappointment more manfully,especially since in advance he had not been at all sure of his footing.
So he called upon her, walked with her up to the Barracks, and on theway, with her help, managed to soften the awkwardness which the morninghad left between them. He talked reasonably and meekly, which shecountenanced, and would have apologized roundly had she not preventedhim.
"Not the slightest bit of blame attaches to you," she said. "Had Ibeen in your place, I should probably have done the same and behavedmuch more outrageously. For you were outrageous, you know."
"But had you been in my place, and I in yours," he answered, with aweak attempt at humor, "there would have been no need."
She smiled, glad that he was feeling less strongly about it.
"But, unhappily, our social wisdom does not permit such a reversal," headded, more with a desire to be saying something.
"Ah!" she laughed. "There's where my Jesuitism comes in. I can riseabove our social wisdom."
"You don't mean to say,--that--?"
"There, shocked as usual! No, I could not be so crude as to speakoutright, but I might _finesse_, as you whist-players say. Accomplishthe same end, only with greater delicacy. After all, a distinctionwithout a difference."
"Could you?" he asked.
"I know I could,--if the occasion demanded. I am not one to let what Imight deem life-happiness slip from me without a struggle. That"(judicially) "occurs only in books and among sentimentalists. As myfather always says, I belong to the strugglers and fighters. Thatwhich appeared to me great and sacred, that would I battle for, thoughI brought heaven tumbling about my ears."
"You have made me very happy, Vance," she said at parting by theBarracks gates. "And things shall go along in the same old way. Andmind, not a bit less of you than formerly; but, rather, much more."
But Corliss, after several perfunctory visits, forgot the way which ledto Jacob Welse's home, and applied himself savagely to his work. Heeven had the hypocrisy, at times, to felicitate himself upon hisescape, and to draw bleak fireside pictures of the dismal future whichwould have been had he and Frona incompatibly mated. But this was onlyat times. As a rule, the thought of her made him hungry, in a way akinto physical hunger; and the one thing he found to overcome it was hardwork and plenty of it. But even then, what of trail and creek, andcamp and survey, he could only get away from her in his waking hours.In his sleep he was ignobly conquered, and Del Bishop, who was with himmuch, studied his restlessness and gave a ready ear to his mumbledwords.
The pocket-miner put two and two together, and made a correct inductionfrom the different little things which came under his notice. But thisdid not require any great astuteness. The simple fact that he nolonger called on Frona was sufficient evidence of an unprospering suit.But Del went a step farther, and drew the corollary that St. Vincentwas the cause of it all. Several times he had seen the correspondentwith Frona, going one place and another, and was duly incensed thereat.
"I'll fix 'm yet!" he muttered in camp one evening, over on Gold Bottom.
"Whom?" Corliss queried.
"Who? That newspaper man, that's who!"
"What for?"
"Aw--general principles. Why'n't you let me paste 'm that night at theOpera House?"
Corliss laughed at the recollection. "Why did you strike him, Del?"
"General principles," Del snapped back and shut up.
But Del Bishop, for all his punitive spirit, did not neglect the mainchance, and on the return trip, when they came to the forks of Eldoradoand Bonanza, he called a halt.
"Say, Corliss," he began at once, "d'you know what a hunch is?" Hisemployer nodded his comprehension. "Well, I've got one. I ain't neverasked favors of you before, but this once I want you to lay over heretill to-morrow. Seems to me my fruit ranch is 'most in sight. I candamn near smell the oranges a-ripenin'."
"Certainly," Corliss agreed. "But better still, I'll run on down toDawson, and you can come in when you've finished hunching."
"Say!" Del objected. "I said it was a hunch; and I want to ring you inon it, savve? You're all right, and you've learned a hell of a lot outof books. You're a regular high-roller when it comes to thelaboratory, and all that; but it takes yours truly to get down and readthe face of nature without spectacles. Now I've got a theory--"
Corliss threw up his hands in affected dismay, and the pocket-minerbegan to grow angry.
"That's right! Laugh! But it's built right up on your own pet theoryof erosion and changed riverbeds. And I didn't pocket among theMexicans two years for nothin'. Where d'you s'pose this Eldorado goldcame from?--rough, and no signs of washin'? Eh? There's where youneed your spectacles. Books have made you short-sighted. But nevermind how. 'Tisn't exactly pockets, neither, but I know what I'mspelling about. I ain't been keepin' tab on traces for my health. Ican tell you mining sharps more about the lay of Eldorado Creek in oneminute than you could figure out in a month of Sundays. But nevermind, no offence. You lay over with me till to-morrow, and you can buya ranch 'longside of mine, sure." "Well, all right. I can rest up andlook over my notes while you're hunting your ancient river-bed."
"Didn't I tell you it was a hunch?" Del reproachfully demanded.
"And haven't I agreed to stop over? What more do you want?"
"To give you a fruit ranch, that's what! Just to go with me and noseround a bit, that's all."
"I do not want any of your impossible fruit ranches. I'm tired andworried; can't you leave me alone? I think I am more than fair when Ihumor you to the extent of stopping over. You may waste your timenosing around, but I shall stay in camp. Understand?"
"Burn my body, but you're grateful! By the Jumpin' Methuselah, I'llquit my job in two minutes if you don't fire me. Me a-layin' 'wakenights and workin' up my theory, and calculatin' on lettin' you in, andyou a-snorin' and Frona-this and Frona-that--"
"That'll do! Stop it!"
"The hell it will! If I didn't know more about gold-mining than you doabout courtin'--"
Corliss sprang at him, but Del dodged to one side and put up his fists.Then he ducked a wild right and left swing and side-stepped his wayinto firmer footing on the hard trail.
"Hold on a moment," he cried, as Corliss made to come at him again."Just a second. If I lick you, will you come up the hillside with me?"
"Yes."
"And if I don't, you can fire me. That's fair. Come on."
Vance had no show whatever, as Del well knew, who played with him,feinting, attacking, retreating, dazzling, and disappearing every nowand again out of his field of vision in a most exasperating way. AsVance speedily discovered, he possessed very little correlation betweenmind and body, and the next thing he discovered was that he was lyingin the snow and slowly coming back to his senses.
"How--how did you do it?" he stammered to the pocket-miner, who had hishead on his knee and was rubbing his forehead with snow.
"Oh, you'll do!" Del laughed, helping him limply to his feet. "You'rethe right stuff. I'll show you some time. You've got lots to learnyet what you won't find in books. But not now. We've got to wade inand make camp, then you're comin' up the hill with me."
"Hee! hee!" he chuckled later, as they fitted the pipe of the Yukonstove. "Slow sighted and short. Couldn't follow me, eh? But I'llshow you some time, oh, I'll show you all right, all right!"
"Grab an axe an' come on," he commanded when the camp was completed.
He led the way up Eldorado, borrowed a pick, shovel, and pan at acabin, and headed up among the benches near the m
outh of French Creek.Vance, though feeling somewhat sore, was laughing at himself by thistime and enjoying the situation. He exaggerated the humility withwhich he walked at the heel of his conqueror, while the extravagantservility which marked his obedience to his hired man made thatindividual grin.
"You'll do. You've got the makin's in you!" Del threw down the toolsand scanned the run of the snow-surface carefully. "Here, take theaxe, shinny up the hill, and lug me down some _skookum_ dry wood."
By the time Corliss returned with the last load of wood, thepocket-miner had cleared away the snow and moss in divers spots, andformed, in general design, a rude cross.
"Cuttin' her both ways," he explained. "Mebbe I'll hit her here, orover there, or up above; but if there's anything in the hunch, this isthe place. Bedrock dips in above, and it's deep there and most likelyricher, but too much work. This is the rim of the bench. Can't bemore'n a couple of feet down. All we want is indications; afterwardswe can tap in from the side."
As he talked, he started fires here and there on the uncovered spaces."But look here, Corliss, I want you to mind this ain't pocketin'. Thisis just plain ordinary 'prentice work; but pocketin'"--he straightenedup his back and spoke reverently--"but pocketin' is the deepest scienceand the finest art. Delicate to a hair's-breadth, hand and eye trueand steady as steel. When you've got to burn your pan blue-black twicea day, and out of a shovelful of gravel wash down to the one wee speckof flour gold,--why, that's washin', that's what it is. Tell you what,I'd sooner follow a pocket than eat."
"And you would sooner fight than do either." Bishop stopped toconsider. He weighed himself with care equal to that of retaining theone wee speck of flour gold. "No, I wouldn't, neither. I'd takepocketin' in mine every time. It's as bad as dope; Corliss, sure. Ifit once gets a-hold of you, you're a goner. You'll never shake it.Look at me! And talk about pipe-dreams; they can't burn a candle'longside of it."
He walked over and kicked one of the fires apart. Then he lifted thepick, and the steel point drove in and stopped with a metallic clang,as though brought up by solid cement.
"Ain't thawed two inches," he muttered, stooping down and groping withhis fingers in the wet muck. The blades of last year's grass had beenburned away, but he managed to gather up and tear away a handful of theroots.
"Hell!"
"What's the matter?" Corliss asked.
"Hell!" he repeated in a passionless way, knocking the dirt-coveredroots against the pan.
Corliss went over and stooped to closer inspection. "Hold on!" hecried, picking up two or three grimy bits of dirt and rubbing them withhis fingers. A bright yellow flashed forth.
"Hell!" the pocket-miner reiterated tonelessly. "First rattle out thebox. Begins at the grass roots and goes all the way down."
Head turned to the side and up, eyes closed, nostrils distended andquivering, he rose suddenly to his feet and sniffed the air. Corlisslooked up wonderingly.
"Huh!" the pocket-miner grunted. Then he drew a deep breath. "Can'tyou smell them oranges?"
