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By twilight the work was accomplished and Tra-Lee was deserted, save for Smoke and Shorty, who ate supper in the cabin and chuckled at the list of shareholders, four thousand eight hundred and seventy-four strong, and at the gold-sacks, which they knew contained approximately forty-eight thousand seven hundred and forty dollars. "But you ain't swung it yet," Shorty objected.
"I'm no good at figgers. One batch at a time an' no mistakes." Going to his fur coat, from each of the side pockets he drew forth two sacks of dust, so rotund and long that they resembled bologna sausages. When the first batch had been paid for, there remained in the gold-sacks not more than several hundred dollars. A soap-box was carried to the table, and the count of the three thousand began.
Say, I've got some real fizz I'll open if you'll all come over to the Tivoli with me." Later, back in the cabin, Shorty silently overhauled and hefted the various bulging gold-sacks. He finally piled them on the table, sat down on the edge of his bunk, and began taking off his moccasins. "Seventy thousan'," he calculated. "It weighs three hundred and fifty pounds.
On the instant a score of the men who had declined to accompany him on the wild-goose chase were crowding about him with proffered gold-sacks. "How much flour do you want?" asked the Alaska Commercial Company's storekeeper. "About two ton." The proffered gold-sacks were not withdrawn, though their owners were guilty of an outrageous burst of merriment.
Say, I've got some real fizz I'll open if all you'll come over to the Tivoli with me." Later, back in the cabin, Shorty silently overhauled and hefted the various bulging gold-sacks. He finally piled them on the table, sat down on the edge of his bunk, and began taking off his moccasins. "Seventy thousan'," he calculated. "It weighs three hundred and fifty pounds.
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