The _Nome_ appeared to be drifting in the
heart of a paradise of mountains. Eastward, very near, was the mainland;
so close on the other hand that he could hear the shout of a man was
Douglas Island, and ahead, reaching out like a silver-blue ribbon was
Gastineau Channel. The mining towns of Treadwell and Douglas were
in sight.
Someone nudged him, and he found Stampede Smith at his side.
"That's Bill Treadwell's place," he said. "Once the richest gold mines
in Alaska. They're flooded now. I knew Bill when he was worrying about
the price of a pair of boots. Had to buy a second-hand pair an' patched
'em himself. Then he struck it lucky, got four hundred dollars
somewhere, and bought some claims over there from a man named French
Pete. They called it Glory Hole. An' there was a time when there were
nine hundred stamps at work. Take a look, Alan. It's worth it."
Somehow Stampede's voice and information lacked appeal. The decks were
crowded with passengers as the ship picked her way into Juneau, and Alan
wandered among them with a gathering sense of disillusionment pressing
upon him. He knew that he was looking with more than casual interest for
Mary Standish, and he was glad when Stampede bumped into an old
acquaintance and permitted him to be alone. He was not pleased with the
discovery, and yet he was compelled to acknowledge the truth of it.
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