a bribe? The receiver is as bad as the thief, you know; and you
needn't console yourself with any fictitious moral superiority
concerning this little deal."

"To hell with your ethics!" the other burst out. "Come here and
watch the weighing of this dust. I might cheat you."

And the woman, leaning against the bunk, raging and impotent,
watched herself weighed out in yellow dust and nuggets in the
scales erected on the grub-box. The scales were small, making
necessary many weighings, and Messner with precise care verified
each weighing.

"There's too much silver in it," he remarked as he tied up the
gold-sack. "I don't think it will run quite sixteen to the ounce.
You got a trifle the better of me, Womble."

He handled the sack lovingly, and with due appreciation of its
preciousness carried it out to his sled.

Returning, he gathered his pots and pans together, packed his grub-
box, and rolled up his bed. When the sled was lashed and the
complaining dogs harnessed, he returned into the cabin for his
mittens.

"Good-by, Tess," he said, standing at the open door.

She turned on him, struggling for speech but too frantic to word
the passion that burned in her.