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When night closed in they could see the gleam of a campfire, kindled by the Foger party, at the gold-pocket, from bits of the scrubby trees that grew in that frigid clime. "They're going to stay on guard," announced Tom. "We can't get it away from them to-night." Though Abe had spoken of some plan to regain the advantage the Fogers had of them, the old miner was not quite ready to propose it.
But I'll dig a hole as big as a hill!... Wouldn't it be funny if I struck it rich?" "Jim, you're getting the fever." "Joan, if I did happen to run into a gold-pocket there're lots of them found would you marry me?" The tenderness, the timidity, and the yearning in Cleve's voice told Joan as never before how he had hoped and feared and despaired.
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