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So the name of Charles Mitchell was added to the notice； and many an
old sour dough's face relaxed that day at sight of the handiwork of a
kindred spirit。
〃How's the pup？〃 Carmack inquired when they strolled back into
camp。
〃To hell with pups！〃 was Hootchinoo Bill's reply。 〃Me and Kink's
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goin' a…lookin' for Too Much Gold when we get rested up。〃
Too Much Gold was the fabled creek of which all sour doughs
dreamed； whereof it was said the gold was so thick that； in order to wash it；
gravel must first be shovelled into the sluice…boxes。 But the several days'
rest； preliminary to the quest for Too Much Gold； brought a slight change
in their plan； inasmuch as it brought one Ans Handerson； a Swede。
Ans Handerson had been working for wages all summer at Miller
Creek over on the Sixty Mile； and； the summer done； had strayed up
Bonanza like many another waif helplessly adrift on the gold tides that
swept willy…nilly across the land。 He was tall and lanky。 His arms were
long； like prehistoric man's； and his hands were like soup…plates； twisted
and gnarled； and big…knuckled from toil。 He was slow of utterance and
movement； and his eyes； pale blue as his hair was pale yellow； seemed
filled with an immortal dreaming； the stuff of which no man knew； and
himself least of all。 Perhaps this appearance of immortal dreaming was
due to a supreme and vacuous innocence。 At any rate； this was the
valuation men of ordinary clay put upon him； and there was nothing
extraordinary about the composition of Hootchinoo Bill and Kink
Mitchell。
The partners had spent a day of visiting and gossip； and in the evening
met in the temporary quarters of the Monte Carloa large tent were
stampeders rested their weary bones and bad whisky sold at a dollar a
drink。 Since the only money in circulation was dust； and since the house
took the 〃down…weight〃 on the scales； a drink cost something more than a
dollar。 Bill and Kink were not drinking； principally for the reason that
their one and common sack was not strong enough to stand many
excursions to the scales。
〃Say； Bill； I've got a chechaquo on the string for a sack of flour；〃
Mitchell announced jubilantly。
Bill looked interested and pleased。 Grub as scarce； and they were not
over…plentifully supplied for the quest after Too Much Gold。
〃Flour's worth a dollar a pound；〃 he answered。 〃How like do you
calculate to get your finger on it？〃
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The Faith of Men
〃Trade 'm a half…interest in that claim of ourn；〃 Kink answered。
〃What claim？〃 Bill was surprised。 Then he remembered the
reservation he had staked off for the Swedes； and said； 〃Oh！〃
〃I wouldn't be so clost about it； though；〃 he added。 〃Give 'm the
whole thing while you're about it； in a right free…handed way。〃
Bill shook his head。 〃If I did； he'd get clean scairt and prance off。
I'm lettin' on as how the ground is believed to be valuable； an' that we're
lettin' go half just because we're monstrous short on grub。 After the
dicker we can make him a present of the whole shebang。〃
〃If somebody ain't disregarded our notice；〃 Bill objected； though he
was plainly pleased at the prospect of exchanging the claim for a sack of
flour。
〃She ain't jumped；〃 Kink assured him。 〃It's No。 24； and it stands。 The
chechaquos took it serious； and they begun stakin' where you left off。
Staked clean over the divide； too。 I was gassin' with one of them which
has just got in with cramps in his legs。〃
It was then； and for the first time； that they heard the slow and groping
utterance of Ans Handerson。
〃Ay like the looks；〃 he was saying to the bar…keeper。 〃Ay tank Ay gat
a claim。〃
The partners winked at each other； and a few minutes later a surprised
and grateful Swede was drinking bad whisky with two hard… hearted
strangers。 But he was as hard…headed as they were hard… hearted。 The
sack made frequent journeys to the scales； followed solicitously each time
by Kink Mitchell's eyes； and still Ans Handerson did not loosen up。 In
his pale blue eyes； as in summer seas； immortal dreams swam up and
burned； but the swimming and the burning were due to the tales of gold
and prospect pans he heard； rather than to the whisky he slid so easily
down his throat。
The partners were in despair； though they appeared boisterous and
jovial of speech and action。
〃Don't mind me； my friend；〃 Hootchinoo Bill hiccoughed； his hand
upon Ans Handerson's shoulder。 〃Have another drink。 We're just
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celebratin' Kink's birthday here。 This is my pardner； Kink； Kink Mitchell。
An' what might your name be？〃
This learned； his hand descended resoundingly on Kink's back； and
Kink simulated clumsy self…consciousness in that he was for the time
being the centre of the rejoicing； while Ans Handerson looked pleased and
asked them to have a drink with him。 It was the first and last time he
treated； until the play changed and his canny soul was roused to unwonted
prodigality。 But he paid for the liquor from a fairly healthy…looking sack。
〃Not less 'n eight hundred in it；〃 calculated the lynx…eyed Kink； and on the
strength of it he took the first opportunity of a privy conversation with
Bidwell； proprietor of the bad whisky and the tent。
〃Here's my sack； Bidwell；〃 Kink said； with the intimacy and surety of
one old…timer to another。 〃Just weigh fifty dollars into it for a day or so
more or less； and we'll be yours truly； Bill an' me。〃
Thereafter the journeys of the sack to the scales were more