He persisted.
I refused--I was confident, I KNEW I had one of the richest properties in Alaska." Wilbur paused.

A little row of glistening drops had gathered on his forehead.

Jimmie Dale, balancing Markel's cash box on one knee, drummed softly with his finger tips on the cover.
"The vein petered out," Wilbur went on.

"But I was still confident.
I sank all the proceeds of the first strike--and sank them fast, for unaccountable accidents that crippled me both financially and in the progress of the work began to happen." Wilbur flung out his hands impotently.

"Oh, it's a long story--too long to tell.