Klondike Nuggets | Page 9

expression and exclaimed:
"I don't believe a word you say."

"It is no concern of ours whether you believe it or not," replied Roswell,
as he and Frank started down the street toward their hotel. The fellow
was amazed at the defiance of the lads, and stood staring at them and
muttering angrily to himself. Could he have carried out his promptings,
he would have robbed both, but was restrained by several reasons.
In the first place, Juneau, despite the influx of miners, is a law-abiding
city, and the man's arrest and punishment would have followed
speedily. Moreover, it would not have been an altogether "sure thing"
for him to attack the youths. They were exceptionally tall, active and
strong, and would have given him trouble without appeal to the
firearms which they carried.
They looked round and smiled, but he did not follow them. When they
reached the hotel they related the incident.
"Would ye oblige me with a description of the spalpeen?" said Tim
McCabe, after they had finished. Roswell did as requested.
"Be the powers, it's him!" exclaimed Tim. "I 'spected it when ye told
the yarn which I've heerd he has been telling round town."
"Whom do you mean?" asked Frank.
"Hardman, Ike Hardman himsilf."
"Who is he?"
"Didn't I tell ye he was the one that robbed me of my money? Sure I
did, what is the matter wid ye?"
"You told us about being robbed," said Jeff, "but didn't mention the
name of the man who did it."
"I want to inthrodooce mesilf to him!" exclaimed Tim, flushed with
indignation; "axscoose me for a bit."
He strode to the door with the intention of hunting up and chastising
the rogue, but, with his hand on the knob, checked himself. For a

moment he debated with himself, and then, as his broad face lit up with
his natural good humor, he came back to his chair, paraphrasing Uncle
Toby:
"The world's big enough for the likes of him and me, though he does
crowd a bit. Let him git all the good out of the theft he can, say I."
Dyea is at the head of navigation, and is the timber line, being a
hundred miles to the northwest of Juneau. It is at the upper fork of what
is termed Lynn Canal, the most extensive fiord on the coast. It is, in
truth, a continuation of Chatham Strait, the north and south passage
being several hundred miles in extent, the whole forming the trough of
a glacier which disappeared ages ago.
On the day following the incident described our friends boarded the
little, untidy steam launch bound for Dyea. There were fifty passengers
beside themselves, double the number it was intended to carry, the
destination of all being the gold fields. The weather was keen and
biting, and the accommodations on the boat poor. They pushed here
and there, surveying with natural interest the bleak scenery along shore,
the mountains white with snow, and foretelling the more terrible
regions that lay beyond. Hundreds of miles remained to be traversed
before they could expect to gather the yellow particles, but neither of
the sturdy lads felt any abatement of courage.
"Well, look at that!" suddenly exclaimed Roswell, catching the arm of
his companion as they were making their way toward the front of the
boat.
Frank turned in the direction indicated, and his astonishment was as
great as his companion's. Tim McCabe and the shabby scamp, Ike
Hardman, were sitting near each other on a bench, and smoking their
pipes like two affectionate brothers. No one would have suspected there
had ever been a ripple between them.
Catching the eye of the amazed boys, Tim winked and threw up his
chin as an invitation for them to approach. Frank shook his head, and
he and Roswell went back to where Jeff was smoking his pipe. They

had hardly time to tell their story when the Irishman joined them.
[Illustration: CATCHING THE EYE OF THE AMAZED BOYS, TIM
WINKED.]
"I obsarved by the exprission on your faces that ye were a bit
surprised," he said, addressing the youths.
"Is that fellow the Hardman you told us about?" asked Roswell.
"The same at your sarvice."
"And the man who robbed you of your money?"
Tim flung one of his muscular legs over the other, and with a twinkle
of the eyes said:
"Hardman has made it all right; the matter is fixed atween oursilves."
"Then he give you back your money?" was the inquiring remark of Jeff.
"Not precisely that, though he said he would do the same if he only had
it with him, but he run up agin a game at Juneau and was cleaned out.
Whin he told me that I was a bit sorry for him.