"Beat it!" growled Jim, "or I'll come and superintend it myself. If they're not ready when I come back, watch out for trouble!"

He ran down the steps and told the driver to drive to Lord Featherstone's house. Instinctively he guessed Angela's port of refuge. Arriving there, a burly footman told him that His Lordship was not at home. The next instant Jim was in the hall. The second flunkey looked at the first. They had received strict instructions that Mr. Conlan was not to be admitted. They both came to the conclusion that physical obstruction in this case was tantamount to suicide.

"Lead the way," said Jim.

"Sir----"

"Lead the way, you powdered nanny-goats!"

Ultimately he arrived at the drawing-room door. He knocked loudly and entered. Angela was sitting reading. Lady Featherstone was doing likewise, and His Lordship was standing before the fire with his hands in his pockets.

"Conlan!" gasped the latter. "How dare you come here?"

Jim fixed his eyes on Angela, who had closed the book and was regarding him in amazement.

"I've come," he said grimly. "Get your clothes on."

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Featherstone.

"I've come to remove my property," said Jim. "You didn't think I was hiking to the Klond.y.k.e and leaving fifty thousand pounds' worth of property lying about, did you?"

Featherstone felt the jibe, but he was furious at the intrusion. Jim turned to Angela.

"I'm waiting," he snapped.

"You'd better go," she reported. "You merely succeed in making a fool of yourself."

"Oh dear!" moaned Lady Featherstone. "The man is dangerous. Claude, call John and Henry."

"Yep, call in your tame leopards. Gee--I'm starving for a fight!"

Featherstone, eyeing this six-feet-three of hard knotted muscle, attempted to bring diplomacy to the rescue.

"Conlan," he pleaded, "I beg you to act reasonably. I understand you are going to the Klond.y.k.e. But you can scarcely expect Angela to accompany you there. There are certain limits to a wife's marital responsibilities."

Jim's eyes narrowed.

"There ain't no sentiments in business. I bought her for fifty thousand.

I'm not writing off anything for depreciation, cos I allow there ain't no depreciation, in a material sense. I'm jest hanging on to my property till I can get a price that leaves a margin of profit--say ten per cent. Make the bidding and I'll quit."

Nothing was more calculated to arouse Featherstone's unbridled wrath.

"You vulgar cowpuncher!" he retorted. "You dare insult me in that way! You dare treat my daughter as bag and baggage--to be sold at auction like an Asiatic slave----!"

"I made the offer," said Jim casually, "because I thought, from experience, that was your line of business."

"Leave my house!" stormed Featherstone.

"Sartenly. Angela, come on, we ain't wanted."

Angela sat like a statue. Suddenly Jim sprang to action.

"I'm giving you two minutes," he snapped.

"If you ain't ready then I'll carry you out. And if any guy tries b.u.t.tin'

in, wal----"

Lady Featherstone gave a shriek of terror.

"Call the police," she wailed.

"My dear Conlan----" commenced His Lordship.

"I'm through with talking. One minute gone!"

Angela stood up.

"I'm not coming to Alaska," she said defiantly, "but I'll come with you out of this house, to save my mother and father further annoyance and insult."

Jim walked to the door and held it open.

"We leave for Liverpool at five o'clock to-morrow morning," he said.

She got her hat and coat and walked majestically to the cab.

CHAPTER VIII

THE WHITE TRAIL

It was a "squaw man" rejoicing in the name of "Slick George" who first revealed the magic wealth of the Klond.y.k.e. Whilst making a fire on a small creek now known to the world as Bonanza Creek wherewith to cook his evening meal, he thawed out some of the frozen gravel, and, in the manner of the born prospector, carelessly washed it, to find himself the possessor of nearly a thousand dollars in raw gold.

Making Forty Mile with a view to dissipating his newly found wealth in a gormandizing "jag," he sent the settlers in that ramshackle camp into wild excitement by producing nuggets of a size hitherto unmatched.

In a few hours Forty Mile was a deserted place. Every able-bodied man, and not a few others, responded to the lure of gold with an alacrity that was remarkable. Anything that would float was pushed into the muddy Yukon, and poled up the fifty-two miles river to the new Eldorado.

The news spread with the speed amazing in so spa.r.s.ely populated a country.

From all the townships lying on the banks of the Yukon, from Sitka and from the Canadian borderland, came endless processions--good men, bad men, women and children--all with the gold-l.u.s.t overleaping any other considerations.

Dawson, the center of all this itinerant humanity, grew from a struggling camp on a frozen muskeg to a teeming Babylon. The strike proved to be genuine. Already tens of thousands of dollars had been unearthed along some of the smaller creeks. The price of commodities rose as the population increased. When the Arctic winter settled down, and the mountain-locked country was frozen a hundred feet down from the surface, the thousands who had made the journey in ignorance of the conditions obtaining found the food supply inadequate to meet the needs of the wanderers. The law of Supply and Demand operating, only the lucky stakers were able to pay the huge prices demanded for every single commodity.

The news filtered through to the outer world. From the Eastern States and the Pacific Slope, from far-away Europe, came more wanderers. Late in their quest, but hopeful nevertheless, they prepared for the terrible journey over the Chilcoot Pa.s.s and down across the frozen lakes to the land of gold.

At Dyea thousands were struggling to get over the Pa.s.s. Women and children and dogs and Indians const.i.tuted the human octopus spread out over the snow at the mouth of the Dyea Canon, which is the entrance to the Pa.s.s.

Rearing above them was the white precipitous peak over which every pound of their gear and food had to be packed.