<h4 id="id00925" style="margin-top: 2em">THE TREASURE IN THE POOL</h4>
<p id="id00926">For a few moments after Rod's words and Mukoki's signal from the
cedars Wabigoon sat as if stunned.</p>
<p id="id00927">"It isn't—gold," he said, his voice filled with questioning doubt.</p>
<p id="id00928">"That's just what it is!" declared Rod, his words now rising in the
excitement which he was vainly striving to suppress. "It's hard, but
see how your knife point has scratched it! It weighs a quarter of an
ounce! Are there any more nuggets in there?"</p>
<p id="id00929">He fell upon his knees beside Wabi, and their two heads were close
together, their four eyes eagerly searching the contents of the pan,
when Mukoki came up behind them. Rod passed the golden nugget to the
old Indian, and rose to his feet.</p>
<p id="id00930">"That settles it, boys. We've hit the right spot. Let's give three
cheers for John Ball and the old map, and go to dinner!"</p>
<p id="id00931">"I agree to dinner, but cut out the cheers," said Wabi, "or else let's
give them under our breath. Notice how hollow our voices sound in this
chasm! I believe we could hear a shout half a dozen miles away!"</p>
<p id="id00932">For their camp Mukoki had chosen a site in the edge of the cedars,
and had spread dinner on a big flat rock about which the three now
gathered. For inspiration, as Wabi said, the young Indian placed
the yellow nugget in the center of the improvised table, and if the
enthusiasm with which they hurried through their meal counted for
anything there was great merit in the golden centerpiece. Mukoki
joined the young gold seekers when they again returned to the chasm
stream, and the quest of the yellow treasure was vigorously renewed in
trembling and feverish expectancy.</p>
<p id="id00933">Only those who have lived in this quest and who have pursued that
elusive <i>ignis fatuus</i> of all nations—the lure of gold—can realize
the sensations which stir the blood and heat the brain of the treasure
seeker as he dips his pan into the sands of the stream where he
believes nature has hidden her wealth. As Roderick Drew, a child of
that civilization where the dollar is law as well as might, returned
to the exciting work which promised him a fortune he seemed to be in
a half dream. About him, everywhere, was gold! For no moment did he
doubt it; not for an instant did he fear that there might be no more
gold in the sand and gravel from which Wabigoon's nugget had come.
Treasure was in the very sandbar under his feet! It was out there
among the rocks, where the water beat itself angrily into sputtering
froth; it was under the fall, and down in the chasm, everywhere,
everywhere about him. In one month John Ball and his companions had
gathered twenty-seven pounds of it, a fortune of nearly seven thousand
dollars! And they had gathered it here! Eagerly he scooped up a fresh
pan of the precious earth. He heard the swish-swish of the water in
Wabigoon's and Mukoki's pans. But beyond this there were no sounds
made by them.</p>
<p id="id00934">In these first minutes of treasure seeking no words were spoken. Who
would give the first shout of discovery? Five minutes, ten, fifteen of
them passed, and Rod found no gold. As he emptied his pan he saw Wabi
scooping up fresh dirt. He, too, had failed. Mukoki had waded out
waist deep among the rocks. A second and a third pan, and a little
chill of disappointment cooled Rod's blood. Perhaps he had chosen an
unlucky spot, where the gold had not settled! He moved his position,
and noticed that Wabigoon had done the same. A fourth and a fifth pan
and the result was the same. Mukoki had waded across the stream, which
was shallow below the fall, and was working on the opposite side. A
sixth pan, and Rod approached the young Indian. The excitement was
gone out of their faces. An hour and a half—and no more gold!</p>
<p id="id00935">"Guess we haven't hit the right place, after all," said Wabi.</p>
<p id="id00936">"It must be here," replied Rod. "Where there is one nugget there must
be more. Gold is heavy, and settles. Perhaps it's deeper down in the
river bed."</p>
<p id="id00937">Mukoki came across to join them. Out among the rocks he had found a
fleck of gold no larger than the head of a pin, and this new sign gave
them all fresh enthusiasm. Taking off their boots both Rod and Wabi
joined the old pathfinder in midstream. But each succeeding pan added
to the depressing conviction that was slowly replacing their hopes.
The shadows in the chasm began growing longer and deeper. Far overhead
the dense canopies of red pine shut out the last sun-glow of day, and
the gathering gloom between the mountains gave warning that in this
mysterious world of the ancient cabin the dusk of night was not far
away. But not until they could no longer see the gleaming mica in
their pans did the three cease work. Wet to the waist, tired, and with
sadly-shattered dreams they returned to their camp. For a short time
Rod's hopes were at their lowest ebb. Was it possible that there was
no more gold, that the three adventurers of long ago had discovered a
"pocket" here, and worked it out? The thought had been growing in his
head. Now it worried him.</p>
<p id="id00938">But his depression did not last long. The big fire which Mukoki
built and the stimulating aroma of strong coffee revived his natural
spirits, and both Wabi and he were soon laughing and planning again as
they made their cedar-bough shelter. Supper on the big flat stone—a
feast of bear steak, hot-stone biscuits, coffee, and that most
delectable of all wilderness luxuries, a potato apiece,—and the two
irrepressible young gold hunters were once more scheming and building
their air-castles for the following day. Mukoki listened, and attended
to the clothes drying before the fire, now and then walking out into
the gloom of the chasm to look up to where the white rim of the fall
burst over the edge of the great rock above them. All that afternoon
Wabi and Rod had forgotten the mad hunter and the strange, smoothly
worn tree. Mukoki had not.</p>
<p id="id00939">In the glow of the camp-fire the two boys read over again the old
account of John Ball and the two Frenchmen. The tiny slip of paper,
yellow with age, was the connecting link between them and the dim
and romantic past, a relic of the grim tragedy which these black and
gloomy chasm walls would probably keep for ever a secret.</p>
<p id="id00940">"Twenty-seven pounds," repeated Rod, as if half to himself. "That was
one month's work!"</p>
<p id="id00941">"Pretty nearly a pound a day!" gasped Wabi. "I tell you, Rod, we
haven't hit the right spot—yet!"</p>
<p id="id00942">"I wonder why John Ball's share was twice that of his companions'? Do
you suppose it was because he discovered the gold in the first place?"
speculated Rod.</p>
<p id="id00943">"In all probability it was. That accounts for his murder. The
Frenchmen were getting the small end of the deal."</p>
<p id="id00944">"Eighteen hundred fifty-nine," mused Rod. "That was forty-nine years
ago, before the great Civil War. Say—"</p>
<p id="id00945">He stopped and looked hard at Wabigoon.</p>
<p id="id00946">"Did it ever strike you that John Ball might not have been murdered?"</p>
<p id="id00947">Wabi leaned forward with more than usual eagerness.</p>
<p id="id00948">"I have had a thought—" he began.</p>
<p id="id00949">"What?"</p>
<p id="id00950">"That perhaps he was not killed."</p>
<p id="id00951">"And that after the two Frenchmen died in the knife duel he returned
and got the gold," continued Rod.</p>
<p id="id00952">"No, I had not thought of that," said Wabi. Suddenly he rose to his
feet and joined Mukoki out in the gloom of the chasm.</p>
<p id="id00953">Rod was puzzled. Something in his companion's voice, in his face and
words, disturbed him. What had Wabigoon meant?</p>
<p id="id00954">The young Indian soon rejoined him, but he spoke no more of John Ball.</p>
<p id="id00955">When the two boys went to their blankets Mukoki still remained awake.
For a long time he sat beside the fire, his hands gripping the rifle
across his knees, his head slightly bowed in that statue-like posture
so characteristic of the Indian. For fully an hour he sat motionless,
and in his own way he was deeply absorbed in thought. Soon after their
discovery of the first golden bullet Wabigoon had whispered a few
words into his ear, unknown to Rod; and to-night out in the gloom of
the chasm, he had repeated those same words. They had set Mukoki's
mind working. He was thinking now of something that happened long ago,
when, in his reasoning, the wilderness was young and he was a youth.
In those days his one great treasure was a dog, and one winter he
went with this faithful companion far into the hunting regions of the
North, a long moon's travel from his village. When he returned,
months later, he was alone. From his lonely hunting shack deep in the
solitudes his comrade had disappeared, and had never returned. This
all happened before Mukoki met the pretty Indian girl who became his
wife, and was afterward killed by the wolves, and he missed the dog
as he would have missed a human brother. The Indian's love, even
for brutes, is some thing that lives, and more than twenty moons
later—two years in the life of a man—he returned once again to the
old shack, and there he found Wholdaia, the dog! The animal knew him,
and bounded about on three legs for joy, and because of the missing
leg Mukoki understood why he had not returned to him two years before.
Two years is a long time in the life of a dog, and the gray hairs of
suffering and age were freely sprinkled in Wholdaia's muzzle and along
his spine.</p>
<p id="id00956">Mukoki was not thinking of Wholdaia without a reason. He was thinking
of Wabigoon's words—and the mad hunter. Could not the mad hunter do
as Wholdaia had done? Was it possible that the bad-dog man who shot
golden bullets and who screamed like a lynx was the man who had lived
there many, many years ago, and whom the boys called John Ball? Those
were the thoughts that Wabi had set working in his brain. The young
Indian had not suggested this to Rod. He had spoken of it to Mukoki
only because he knew the old pathfinder might help him to solve the
riddle, and so he had started Mukoki upon the trail.</p>
<p id="id00957">The next morning, while the others were finishing their breakfast,
Mukoki equipped himself for a journey.</p>
<p id="id00958">"Go down chasm," he explained to Rod. "Fin' where get out to plain.
Shoot meat."</p>
<p id="id00959">That day the gold hunters were more systematic in their work,
beginning close to the fall, one on each side of the stream, and
panning their way slowly down the chasm. By noon they had covered two
hundred yards, and their only reward was a tiny bit of gold, worth
no more than a dollar, which Rod had found in his pan. By the time
darkness again compelled them to stop they had prospected a quarter
of a mile down stream without discovering other signs of John Ball's
treasure. In spite of their failure they were less discouraged than
the previous evening, for this failure, in a way, was having a
sedative and healthful effect. It convinced them that there was a hard
and perhaps long task ahead of them, and that they could not expect to
find their treasure winnowed in yellow piles for them.</p>
<p id="id00960">Early in the evening Mukoki returned laden with caribou meat, and with
the news that the first break in the chasm walls was fully five miles
below. The adventurers now regretted that they had chopped down the
stub, for it was decided that the next work should be in the stream
above the fall, which would necessitate a ten-mile tramp, five miles
to the break and five miles back. When the journey was begun at dawn
the following morning several days' supplies were taken along, and
also a stout rope by means of which the gold hunters could lower
themselves back into their old camp when their work above was
completed. Rod noticed that the rocks in the stream seemed much
larger than when he had first seen them, and he mentioned the fact to
Wabigoon.</p>
<p id="id00961">"The floods are going down rapidly," explained the young Indian. "All
of the snow is melted from the sides of the mountains, and there are
no lakes to feed this chasm stream. Within a week there won't be more
than a few inches of water below the fall."</p>
<p id="id00962">"And that is when we shall find the gold!" declared Rod with his old
enthusiasm. "I tell you, we haven't gone deep enough! This gold has
been here for centuries and centuries, and it has probably settled
several feet below the surface of the river-bed. Ball and the
Frenchmen found twenty-seven pounds in June, when the creek was
practically dry. Did you ever read about the discoveries of gold in
Alaska and the Yukon?"</p>
<p id="id00963">"A little, when I was going to school with you."</p>
<p id="id00964">"Well, the richest finds were nearly always from three to a dozen
feet under the surface, and when a prospector found signs in surface
panning he knew there was rich dirt below. We’ll find our gold in this
chasm, and near the fall!"</p>
<p id="id00965">Rod's confidence was the chief thing that kept up the spirits of the
treasure seekers during the next few days, for not the first sign
of gold was discovered above the fall. Yard by yard the prospectors
worked up the chasm until they had washed its sands for more than a
mile. And with the passing of each day, as Wabigoon had predicted, the
stream became more and more shallow, until they could wade across it
without wetting themselves above their knees. At the close of the
fourth day the three lowered themselves over the face of the rock into
the second chasm. So convinced was Rod in his belief that the gold was
hidden deep down under the creek bed that he dug a four-foot hole by
torch-light and that night after supper washed out several pans of
dirt in the glow of the camp-fire. He still found no signs of gold.</p>
<p id="id00966">The next day's exertions left no room for doubt. Beyond two or three
tiny flecks of gold the three adventurers found nothing of value
in the deeper sand and gravel of the stream. That night absolute
dejection settled on the camp. Both Rod and Wabigoon made vain efforts
to liven up their drooping spirits. Only Mukoki, to whom gold
carried but a fleeting and elusive value, was himself, and even his
hopefulness was dampened by the gloom of his companions. Rod could see
but one explanation of their failure. Somewhere near the cataract John
Ball and the Frenchmen had found a rich pocket of gold, and they had
worked it out, probably before the fatal tragedy in the old cabin.</p>
<p id="id00967">"But how about the mad hunter and his golden bullets?" insisted Wabi,
in another effort to brighten their prospects. "The bullets weighed an
ounce each, and I'll stake my life they came from this chasm. He knows
where the gold is, if we don't!"</p>
<p id="id00968">"Come back soon!" grunted Mukoki. "Watch heem. Fin' gol'!"</p>
<p id="id00969">"That's what we'll do!" cried the young Indian, jumping suddenly to
his feet and toppling Rod backward off the rock upon which he was
sitting. "Come, cheer up, Rod! The gold is here, somewhere, and we're
going to find it! I'm heartily ashamed of you; you, whom I thought
would never get discouraged!"</p>
<p id="id00970">Rod was laughing when he recovered from the playful mauling which Wabi
administered before he could regain his feet.</p>
<p id="id00971">"That's right, I deserve another licking! We've got all the spring and
summer before us, and if we don't find the gold by the time snow flies
we'll come back and try it again next year! What do you say?"</p>
<p id="id00972">"And bring Minnetaki with us!" added Wabi, jumping into the air and
kicking his heels together. "How will you like that, Rod?" He nudged
his comrade in the ribs, and in another moment both were puffing and
laughing in one of their good-natured wrestling bouts, in which the
cat-like agility of the young Indian always won for him in the end.</p>
<p id="id00973">In spite of momentary times like this, when the natural buoyancy and
enthusiasm of the young adventurers rose above their discouragement,
the week that followed added to their general depression. For miles
the chasm was explored and at the end of the week they had found less
than an ounce of gold. If their pans had given them no returns at all
their disappointment would have been less, for then, as Wabi said,
they could have given up the ghost with good grace. But the few
precious yellow grains which they found now and then lured them on, as
these same grains have lured other hundreds and thousands since the
dawn of civilization. Day after day they persisted in their efforts;
night after night about their camp-fire they inspired each other with
new hope and made new plans. The spring sun grew stronger, the poplar
buds burst into tiny leaf and out beyond the walls of the chasm the
first promises of summer came in the sweetly scented winds of the
south, redolent with the breath of balsam and pine and the thousand
growing things of the plains.</p>
<p id="id00974">But at last the search came to an end. For three days not even a grain
of gold had been found. Around the big rock, where they were eating
dinner, Rod and his friends came to a final conclusion. The following
morning they would break camp, and leaving their canoe behind, for the
creek was now too shallow for even birch-bark navigation, they would
continue their exploration of the chasm in search of other adventures.
The whole summer was ahead of them, and though they had failed
in discovering a treasure where John Ball and the Frenchmen had
succeeded, they might find one farther on. At least the trip deeper
into the unexplored wilderness would be filled with excitement.</p>
<p id="id00975">Mukoki rose to his feet, leaving Rod and Wabi still discussing their
plans. Suddenly he turned toward them, and a startled cry fell from
his lips, while with one long arm he pointed beyond the fall into the
upper chasm.</p>
<p id="id00976">"Listen—heem—heem!"</p>
<p id="id00977">The old warrior's face twitched with excitement, and for a full half
minute he stood motionless, his arm still extended, his black eyes
staring steadily at Rod and Wabigoon who sat as silent as the rocks
about them. Then there came to them from a great distance a quavering,
thrilling sound, a sound that filled them again with the old horror of
the upper chasm—the cry of the mad hunter.</p>
<p id="id00978">At that distant cry Wabigoon sprang to his feet, his eyes leaping
fire, his bronzed cheeks whitening in an excitement even greater than
that of Mukoki.</p>
<p id="id00979">"Muky, I told you!" he cried. "I told you!" The young Indian's body
quivered, his hands were clenched, and when he turned upon Rod the
white youth was startled by the look in his face.</p>
<p id="id00980">"Rod, John Ball is coming back to his gold!"</p>
<p id="id00981">Hardly had he spoken the words when the tenseness left his body and
his hands dropped to his side.</p>
<p id="id00982">The words shot from him before he could control himself enough to hold
them back. In another moment he was sorry. The thought that John Ball
and the mad hunter were the same person he had kept to himself, until
for reasons of his own he had let Mukoki into his secret. While the
idea had taken larger and larger growth in his mind he knew that
from every logical point of view the thing was impossible, and that
constraint which came of the Indian blood in him held him from
discussing it with Rod. But now the words were out. A quick flush
replaced the whiteness that had come into his face. In another instant
he was leaning eagerly toward Rod, his eyes kindling into fire again.
He had not expected the change that he now saw come over the white
youth.</p>
<p id="id00983">"I have been thinking that for a long time," he continued. "Ever since
we found the footprints in the sand. There's just one proof that we
need, just one, and—"</p>
<p id="id00984">"Listen!"</p>
<p id="id00985">Rod fairly hissed the word as he held up a warning hand.</p>
<p id="id00986">This time the cry of the mad hunter came to them more distinctly. He
was approaching through the upper chasm!</p>
<p id="id00987">The white youth rose to his feet, his eyes steadily fixed upon
Wabigoon's. His face was deathly pale.</p>
<p id="id00988">"John Ball!" he repeated, as if he had just heard what the other had
said. "John Ball!" What seemed to him to be the only truth swept upon
him like a flood, and for a score of seconds, in every one of which he
could hear his heart thumping excitedly, he stood like one stunned.
John Ball! John Ball returned to life to find their gold for them, to
tell them of the tragedy and mystery of those days long dead and gone!
Like powder touched by a spark of fire his imagination leaped at
Wabi's thrilling suggestion.</p>
<p id="id00989">Mukoki set to work.</p>
<p id="id00990">"Hide!" he exclaimed. "Hide thees—thees—thees!" He pointed about him
at all the things in camp.</p>
<p id="id00991">Both of the boys understood.</p>
<p id="id00992">"He must see no signs of our presence from the top of the fall!" cried
Wabi, gathering an armful of camp utensils. "Hide them back among the
cedars!"</p>
<p id="id00993">Mukoki hurried to the cedar bough shelter and began tearing it down.
For five minutes the adventurers worked on the run. Once during that
time they heard the madman's wailing cry, and hardly had they finished
and concealed themselves in the gloom of the old cabin when it came
again, this time from not more than a rifle-shot's distance beyond
the cataract. It was not a scream that now fell from the mad hunter's
lips, but a low wail and in it there was something that drove the old
horror from the three wildly beating hearts and filled them with a
measureless, nameless pity. What change had come over the madman? The
cry was repeated every few seconds now, each time nearer than before,
and in it there was a questioning, appealing note that seemed to end
in sobbing despair, a something that gripped at Rod's heart and filled
him with a great half-mastering impulse to answer it, to run out and
stretch his hands forth in greeting to the strange, wild creature
coming down the chasm!</p>
<p id="id00994">Then, as he looked, something ran out upon the edge of the great rock
beside the cataract, and he clutched at his own breast to hold back
what he thought must burst forth in words. For he knew—as surely as
he knew that Wabi was at his side—that he was looking upon John Ball!
For a moment the strange creature crouched where the stub had been,
and when he saw that it was gone he stood erect, and a quavering,
pitiful cry echoed softly through the chasm. And as he stood there
motionless the watchers saw that the mad hunter was an old man, tall
and thin, but as straight as a sapling, and that his head and breast
were hidden in shaggy beard and hair. In his hands he carried a
gun—the gun that had fired the golden bullets—and even at that
distance those who were peering from the gloom of the cabin saw that
it was a long barreled weapon similar to those they had found in the
other old cabin, along with the skeletons of the Frenchmen who had
died in the fatal knife duel.</p>
<p id="id00995">In breathless suspense the three waited, not a muscle of their bodies
moving. Again the old man leaned over the edge of the rock, and his
voice came to them in a moaning, sobbing appeal, and after a little
he stretched out his arms, still crying softly, as if beseeching help
from some one below. The spectacle gripped at Rod's soul. A hot film
came into his eyes and there was an odd little tremble in his throat.
The Indians were looking with dark, staring eyes. To them this was
another unusual incident of the wilderness. But to Rod it was the
white man's soul crying out to his own. The old man's outstretched
arms seemed reaching to him, the sobbing voice, filled with its
pathos, its despair, its hopeless loneliness, seemed a supplication
for him to come forth, to reach up his own arms, to respond to this
lost soul of the solitudes. With a little cry Rod darted between his
companions. He threw off his cap and lifted his white face to the
startled creature on the rock, and as he advanced step by step,
reaching out his hands in friendship, he called softly a name:</p>
<p id="id00996">"John Ball, John Ball, John Ball!"</p>
<p id="id00997">In an instant the mad hunter had straightened himself, half turned to
flee.</p>
<p id="id00998">"John Ball! Hello, John Ball—John Ball—"</p>
<p id="id00999">In his earnestness Rod was almost sobbing the name. He forgot
everything now, everything but that lonely figure on the rock, and he
drew nearer and nearer, gently calling the name, until the mad hunter
dropped on his knees and, crumpled in his long beard and gray lynx
skin, looked down upon Rod and sent back a low moaning, answering cry.</p>
<p id="id01000">"John Ball! John Ball, is that you?"</p>
<p id="id01001">Rod stopped, with the madman forty feet above him, and something
seemed choking back the very breath in him when he saw the strange
look that had come into the old man's eyes.</p>
<p id="id01002">"John Ball—"</p>
<p id="id01003">The wild eyes above shifted for a moment. They caught a glimpse of two
heads thrust from the door of the old cabin, and the madman sprang to
his feet. For a breath he stood on the edge of the rock, then with a
cry he leaped with the fierce agility of an animal far out into the
swirl of the cataract! For an instant he was visible in the downward
plunge of the water. Another instant and with a heavy splash he
disappeared in the deep pool under the fall!</p>
<p id="id01004">Wabi and Mukoki had seen the desperate leap and the young Indian
was beside the pool before Rod had recovered from his horrified
astonishment. For centuries the water of the chasm stream had been
tumbling into this pool wearing it deeper and deeper each year, until
the water in it was over a man's head. In width it was not more than a
dozen feet.</p>
<p id="id01005">"Watch for him! He'll drown if we don't get him out," shouted Wabi.</p>
<p id="id01006">Rod leaped to the edge of the pool, with Mukoki between him and
Wabigoon. Ready to spring into the cold depths at the first sign of
the old man's gray head or struggling arms the three stood with every
muscle ready for action. A second, two seconds, five seconds passed,
and there was no sign of him. Rod's heart began to beat with drum-like
fierceness. Ten seconds! A quarter of a minute! He looked at Wabigoon.
The young Indian had thrown off his caribou-skin coat; his eyes, as he
turned them for a moment toward Rod, flashed back the white youth's
fear.</p>
<p id="id01007">"I'm going to dive for him!"</p>
<p id="id01008">In another instant he had plunged head foremost into the pool.
Mukoki's coat fell to the ground. He crouched forward until it seemed
he must topple from the stone upon which he stood. Another fifteen
seconds and Wabigoon's head appeared above the water, and the old
warrior gave a shout.</p>
<p id="id01009">"Me come!"</p>
<p id="id01010">He shot out and disappeared in a huge splash close to Wabi. Rod stood
transfixed, filled with a fear that was growing in him at every breath
he drew. He saw the convulsions of the water made by the two Indians,
who were groping about below the surface. Wabigoon came up again for
breath, then Mukoki. It seemed to him that an age had passed, and he
felt no hope. John Ball was dead!</p>
<p id="id01011">Not for a moment now did he doubt the identity of the mad hunter. The
strange, wistful light that had replaced the glare in the old man's
eyes when he heard his own name called to him had spoken more than
words. It was John Ball! And he was dead! For a third time, a fourth,
and a fifth Mukoki and Wabigoon came up for air, and the fifth time
they dragged themselves out upon the rocks that edged the pool. Mukoki
spoke no word but ran back to the camp and threw a great armful of dry
fuel upon the fire. Wabigoon still remained at the edge of the pool,
dripping and shivering. His hands were clenched, and Rod could see
that they were filled with sand and gravel. Mechanically the Indian
opened his fingers and looked at what he had unconsciously brought up
from under the fall.</p>
<p id="id01012">For a moment he stared, then with his gasping breath there came a low,
thrilling cry.</p>
<p id="id01013">He held out his hands to Rod.</p>
<p id="id01014">Gleaming richly among the pebbles which he held was a nugget of pure
gold, a nugget so large that Rod gave a wild yell, and in that one
moment forgot that John Ball, the mad hunter, was dead or dying
beneath the fall!</p>
<h2 id="id01015" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XVI</h2>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />