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Updated: June 25, 2025
She noted this information carefully on one of her sheets of paper, thus proving that she was right to go and get them, all the time. "I thought," said she, "I might see if Saltman had it. Then I could begin to cram to-night." But no, he said that Saltman hadn't it, but would order it, of course. And then the scraping of a chair-leg advised all listeners that Mr.
Saltman, stepping across the dead-line, had turned to encourage a following, when the police lieutenant's voice rang out and stopped the forward surge of the great mass. "Hold on there! You can't do that, you know!" "Can't, eh?" said Bill Saltman. "The law says a fake location can be relocated, don't it?" "Thet's right, Bill! Stay with it!" the crowd cheered from the safe side of the line.
It's a fissure vein, all right." "An' look at the size of it!" Saltman cried. "They've got something here, you bet." "An' run your eyes down the slide there see them bluffs standin' out an' slopin' in. The whole slide's in the mouth of the vein as well." "And just keep a-lookin' on, out on the ice there, on the trail," Saltman directed. "Looks like most of Dawson, don't it?"
Or else for what did he pay Sanderson the twenty-five thousand? Not for this mangy town-site, that's sure an' certain." A chorus of cries affirmed Saltman's judgment. "Well, what are we goin' to do now?" someone queried dolefully. "Me for one for breakfast," Wild Water Charley said cheerfully. "You led us up a blind alley this time, Bill." "I tell you I didn't," Saltman objected. "Smoke led us.
"You can go some," Saltman acknowledged, panting at the end of ten minutes, as he sat astride Smoke's chest. "But I down you every time." "And I hold you every time," Smoke panted back. "That's what I'm here for, just to hold you. Where do you think Shorty's getting to all this time?" Saltman made a wild effort to go clear, and all but succeeded.
"Look here, Shorty, listen to reason," Saltman begged. "Come here to me an' we'll talk reason," was Shorty's retort. And they were still talking reason when the head of the stampede emerged from the zigzag trail and came upon them.
An' you filed a claim in the name of Harry Maxwell. Now Harry Maxwell ain't in the country. He's down in Seattle. Went out last fall. Them two claims is open to relocation." "Suppose I have his power of attorney?" Smoke queried. "You ain't," Saltman answered. "An' if you have you got to show it. Anyway, here's where we relocate. Come on, fellows."
"He'll be here," Smoke asserted with conviction. "He's a born gambler, and when Breck whispers the tip to him not even heart disease would stop him." Within the hour came a knock at the door, and Wild Water entered, followed by Bill Saltman. Their eyes swept the cabin eagerly, coming to rest on the windlass elaborately concealed by blankets.
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