Fools' Gold by Richard Wiley Page A

But, as for him, he had his tools and just enough money to buy building materials. He only needed a helper or two, and he’d be on his way. He already had a job contracted. He told Ellen that he’d put up the bath building for two thousand dollars and said he’d have it done in a month. And he’d pay whoever worked with him fairly. Now was a time to be fair with other men, for he’d be paid back in the end, he knew.
    Finn, thinking and handing out leaflets, imagined the things he would do with the money he made. The crowd flowed in the direction of the beach, and he let himself be taken with it. He tried pushing leaflets into the hands of those near him, but they were excited, so Finn put the leaflets neatly inside his coat and looked where the others were looking. Out in the bay, anchored or anchoring, stood three gray American troop ships. He could see skiffs dotting the water, men and equipment being lowered from the high decks by mechanical hoists.
    â€œDown by the mouth of the Snake,” said a voice, “they’re going to build a fort.”
    Finn knew the site of the fort to be just where he and Henriette and Ellen had crossed the Snake a few days before, but he hadn’t thought about what the coming of the army might mean. He’d seen soldiers before so turned to leave but found that a whole group of townspeople had come up behind him and that his way was blocked. He moved sideways along the edge of the beach trying again to distribute his leaflets, but the crowd had a heavy face and was moving with the soldiered skiffs, northwesterly, toward the Snake.
    By the time they reached the raft landing at the edge of the river, five of the gun-gray boats had already notched the soft sandbar on the far side. Many of the men and women in Nome had come out of the tent city and walked to the bank of the Snake to watch the army arrive. They stood now close together, quiet at the water’s edge. There were already a dozen soldiers on the far sand, directing the landing barges and helping to stack the shored supplies. They were organized, these soldiers. Finn liked the stiff brown shirts that they wore and the precision with which they marched, seaward and back.
    â€œWe have our own laws,” said a man near Finn, shorter and calmer than the others in the crowd. As he spoke the body of men and women standing around him tightened, moved in behind him to form a V, like a reflection of the southbound birds that even now blackened the sky above Nome. “We have our own laws.” Like people singing in rounds the crowd began a murmur. Finn found himself in the middle, unable to turn or to slip away with his leaflets undamaged. The soldiers on the far side of the river were at ease or were standing boot deep in the water. The man who had first spoken was quiet again, and soon the others were too.
    The third ship was unloaded and more troops stood along the opposite sandbar. The officer in charge was one of the last to come ashore but the first to give an order. “Axemen ready,” he said.
    They would build their camp beyond the bar on which they stood and away from the river, on the flat moss of the semi tundra. At another order from the officer the axemen turned and swung their way into the scrub, walking six feet apart and clearing everything in their path. Finn looked at the soldiers, then at their own leader, the little calm-looking man in front. Everyone was quietly watching. Finn was in the center of the group, a head above most of the others, so he put his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Hello … Why have you come?” He looked quickly about him, but no one took up his call. The commanding officer walked down to the edge of the water, raised his hands, and spoke back.
    â€œBy order of the President of the United States. We have come to survey the land.”
    Finn didn’t know what to say next. It had been an experiment, his yelling. He’d wanted to see