CHAPTER XXIII.
GOOD LUCK AND BAD.
As the captain wanted to save every grain of gold in the pan, he washed very carefully, and it was fully five minutes before the last of the sand and dirt was disposed of and they could come to a calculation as to the value of the yellow metal left.
For gold there was, true enough, shining brightly before their eyes—and there was more than this, too, for some of it was of a blackish color. The others could not believe in the value of this until Foster Portney assured them that he had frequently heard of black gold being turned up in the Yukon district.
"Half an ounce at least," was the verdict arrived at by both the captain and Mr. Portney; "and that's eight dollars."
"Then we had better stay, hadn't we?" said Earl.
"Why, of course, Earl; you didn't expect to do much better than that, unless you struck nuggets."
"One fellow over to Gold Bottom said he was taking out a hundred dollars to the panful," put in Randy.
"Fairy stories, my lad," answered the captain. "A
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