Fools' Gold by Richard Wiley Page B

if he could get the same reaction that the short man had gotten, an echo from the crowd, a group following. The prospectors looked at him now, waiting for him to respond. On the far bank all of the soldiers stood still.
    â€œYou are not here as a police force then?” asked the short man. “You are not here as lawmen?”
    Immediately the group around Finn took up the call. There was movement among them, side-stepping. The entire group turned like a divining rod, the short man its pivot. Even Finn thought the question so to the point that he heard himself saying so under his breath. They shifted a little, closed upon each other, their many feet moving.
    â€œWe have no plans to make one of our tents a jail,” said the officer, smiling. “Our main job is to survey the gold region. If anyone hinders us from that duty we have the power to arrest. If not, you haven’t anything to fear from us.”
    He turned then and marched back among the soldiers before anyone could say anything more. The little man broke the tip of the V and quickly worked his way back toward the town. Finn was next, first among the followers. The others, soon seeing that the officer had dismissed them, turned and shuffled, talking among themselves now, mumbling their way back into the dusty labyrinth from which they had come.
    Finn stood beside the short man and handed him one of the leaflets advertising the bath.
    â€œThis will be a boon to the community,” he said. “First we clean our bodies then we build a fine strong town.”
    The man read the leaflet more carefully than anyone had thus far. “You’ll need a map,” he said. “Nome is just a shanty town now. How would you expect anyone to find the place?”
    He stuffed the paper back into Finn’s hands then turned and walked away. And he was right. Finn had assumed that people would know of the bath’s location from others who knew of it. But to have a map would be better. In truth it was very hard to find. There wasn’t even a sign.
    Finn walked back along the paths of the town, distributed a few more leaflets, and returned to Ellen’s bath. He peered in through the wire mesh on the front of the chicken coops. The first chicken he saw was sitting high on an egg of her own and on the marble one Finn had given Ellen. He reached in and took both eggs in his hand and the chicken settled down once more. The real egg was warm and slightly larger than the marble one. Finn slipped it into the box on top of the coop, then slid the marble egg through the door and under the next bird. He took Ellen’s watering can and was sprinkling the dirt floor of the room when Ellen came in from the outside.
    â€œI’ve been about the town,” she said lightly. “I saw your name but there’s still no one signed up with you.”
    â€œThe army has arrived. Did you notice?”
    â€œI noticed the crowd about,” she said. “I noticed the ships in the harbor.”
    Finn pointed to the new egg and told her about the mistake he’d made on the handouts.
    â€œA map?” said Ellen. “And do you think in a week there’ll be a man who doesn’t know the place?” She cupped the cooling egg in her hands and laughed. “Just a little time,” she said, peeking in at it. “That’s all we need.”
    Finn thought of the short man again. When that man had said a map was needed Finn had known he was right. And now Ellen made it seem not necessary at all. He was relieved that he’d not made a stupid mistake yet displeased that he’d been so easily convinced that he had. He’d thrown the last two or three dozen leaflets in a barrel and could not now retrieve them.
    â€œI’ve got to find a crew for the building of this bath,” he said. “If they won’t sign up I’ll snatch one or two from the saloon.”
    Finn left again quickly so Ellen walked to the tent flap and