Summary

Roy Norton The Golden Mocassins — Chapter 5 (1911)

My partner and I worked the claim we had bought on Little Marook, and yet, three times a week, I made the long trip to the camp; for the greatest ambition I had conceived, the greatest hope in life, lay in having Elizabeth Wilton tell me that she loved me. Thirty years of age, matured, unscarred, I had been drawn into the vortex of love, where everything but the ultimate is lost sight of, and paltry. Three times a week I made that long trip over the trail, that I might hear her voice, and watch the shadows in her hair, the light in her eyes, and the graceful mobility of her lips.
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Roy Norton The Golden Mocassins — Chapter 5 (1911)

In the usual meeting places, the trading posts, the saloons, and the dance halls, men had smiled,and ventured that Sam had gone away on a foolish prospecting trip, such as had been made by a half dozen men in search of “Too-much-gold Creek,” a mythical stream in the Mackenzie border told of by the natives, but never found.
Men worked more, gambled less, and played infrequently now that the busy season was on in force, and the fires from the pits shone dully on every gulch, every night.
Source: Wikisource

Roy Norton The Golden Mocassins — Chapter 5 (1911)

The lure of the clicking bail appeared to attract Sam Barstow, and he banged his heavy fist down on the bar, and whirled around.
“I've got five hundred left,” he asserted belligerently, “and I'll take a chance on busting the wheel.”
He shoved men aside as he made his way over to it, and stood.
“What's the limit here?” he demanded.
“The bank roll,” was the calm response. “It's worth more than your five hundred.”
“Give me the chips,” Barstow growled, and did not trouble to seat himself, but stood erect at the end of the table.
Again the room was silenced, and men surged toward the gambler.
Source: Wikisource

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