For ten days or more the gradual thaw increased. Then a
lusty-lunged chinook wind came booming up along the Klappan Range, and
stripped it to a bare, steaming heap. Overhead whistled the first
flight of the wild goose, bound for the nesting grounds. Night and day
the roar of a dozen cataracts droned on all sides of the basin, as the
melting snow poured down in the annual spring flood.
By April the twentieth the abdication of Jack Frost was complete. A
kindlier despot ruled the land, and Bill Wagstaff began to talk of gold.
CHAPTER XXII
THE STRIKE
". . . that precious yellow metal sought by men
In regions desolate.
Pursued in patient hope or furious toil;
Breeder of discord, wars, and murderous hate;
The victor's spoil."
So Hazel quoted, leaning over her husband's shoulder. In the bottom of
his pan, shining among a film of black sand, lay half a dozen bright
specks, varying from pin-point size to the bigness of a grain of wheat.
"That's the stuff," Bill murmured. "Only it seems rather far-fetched
for your poet to blame inanimate matter for the cussedness of humanity
in general. I suppose, though, he thought he was striking a highly
dramatic note.
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