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There's going to be a rush, and you'd better get ready for it. Also you'd better run up some kind of an hotel at Mile 61, it's the jumping off place. That's all please send Pender here." A moment later he turned to his secretary. "Fisette is waiting outside. Talk to him, he's found gold. Get the story and give it to the local paper.
"I know he was, but did you hear that he has made a fortune out of real estate, and is going round with a face as long as his back?" Belding knew nothing about Manson he had been too busy. "Every one says he's in the dumps because he sold out just before Fisette found that mine and real estate has been jumping ever since." "But he never believed in Mr. Clark."
Fellows have gone out after iron for years right from here and they all thought they had it, but they didn't. There was Joe Lalonde and Pete Nanoosh and the rest of them. Same story over again. There's no iron here anyway. The country rock is wrong a mining engineer told me that." Fisette did not move nor did his expression change. His insides seemed on fire.
Forgetting about Fisette, he moved nearer, his large dark eyes shining with excitement, and just then came a blinding slap. Fisette had swung the empty sack hard against his face. "You don't come here. Stand still." The half-breed was crouching beside the ore like a bear on its hind legs. "Won't I?" The constable smarted with pain and charged with sudden passion.
"Where did it come from and who found it?" "About sixty miles from here, and Fisette found it he's one of my prospectors." "He's the man who discovered iron for you?" "Yes." "How very extraordinary," she said under her breath. "Why should it be?" "The last time we talked you had just found iron, and now it's gold. This is even more wonderful, isn't it?" He shook his head.
It seems to me that life in the open, even though a great part of it is spent in exposure and hardship, has certain spiritual compensations." Clark nodded. "Perhaps." "Put it this way; you deal with many kinds of men, but do you not always feel better disposed toward a simple soul, say like our friend Fisette, than toward some shrewd person who arms himself at every conceivable point?"
"Had a good trip?" hazarded the big man carelessly. "Pretty fair." "Pretty rough country up there?" Manson waved his arm northwest. Fisette grunted. "About the same over there." He glanced into the northeast. "Been rooting about for over a year now, haven't you?" The halfbreed grinned. "Since I was so high." He indicated a stature of two feet. "Come far this time?"
"Look here, Fisette, I suppose you know I've been buying property around town?" "So?" "Yes, and the other day I bought a thousand-dollar mortgage. It's the one on your land. I guess you remember it?" A sense of uncertainty fell over the half-breed. He knew that he owed a thousand dollars and had owed it for years.
It was in the back of his head that he had done what so many men had failed to do, and soon, when Monsieur Clark gave the word, he would be known as the man who had found iron in Algoma. At the big jail, halfway between Fisette and Clark, Manson sat at his desk in his little square office.
But for this the town was utterly unprotected. Came the pad pad of flying feet, and Fisette dashed up, swinging a prospecting pick. He grinned at the big constable. "By Gar!" he panted, "I guess we catch hell now." Followed a little pause, broken only by the deep threatening note of the crowd. Then Belding felt a touch on his shoulder.
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