looked askance at him from time to time, a faint but perceptible
trepidation in their manner. Sigmund also felt this. Hitchcock was
strong, and his strength had been impressed upon them in the course of
many an event in their precarious life. So they stood in a certain
definite awe and curiosity as to what his conduct would be when he moved
to action.

But his silence was long, and the fire nigh out, when Wertz stretched his
arms and yawned, and thought he'd go to bed. Then Hitchcock stood up his
full height.

"May God damn your souls to the deepest hells, you chicken-hearted
cowards! I'm done with you!" He said it calmly enough, but his strength
spoke in every syllable, and every intonation was advertisement of
intention. "Come on," he continued, "whack up, and in whatever way suits
you best. I own a quarter-interest in the claims; our contracts show
that. There're twenty-five or thirty ounces in the sack from the test
pans. Fetch out the scales. We'll divide that now. And you, Sigmund,
measure me my quarter-share of the grub and set it apart. Four of the
dogs are mine, and I want four more. I'll trade you my share in the camp
outfit and mining-gear for the dogs. And I'll throw in my six or seven
ounces and the spare 45-90 with the ammunition. What d'ye say?"

The three men drew apart and conferred. When they returned, Sigmund
acted as spokesman. "We'll whack up fair with you, Hitchcock. In
everything you'll get your quarter-share, neither more nor less; and you
can take it or leave it. But we want the dogs as bad as you do, so you
get four, and that's all. If you don't want to take your share of the
outfit and gear, why, that's your lookout. If you want it, you can have
it; if you don't, leave it."