enough of this, I should think, to show the rest what
he had. Or maybe he died just when he had started
that hole. Seems queer he never struck pay dirt in
this flat. Well, let's eat if it's ready, Bud. Then
we'll see."

"Seems kinda queer, don't it, Cash, that nobody
stepped in and filed on any claims here?" Bud
dumped half a kettle of boiled beans into a basin and
set it on the table. "Want any prunes to-night,
Cash?"

Cash did not want prunes, which was just as well,
seeing there were none cooked. He sat down and
ate, with his mind and his eyes clinging to the gray-
ish, veined fragments of rock lying on the table be-
side his plate.

"We'll send some of that down to Sacramento
right away," he observed, "and have it assayed.
And we won't let out anything about it, Bud -- good
or bad. I like this flat. I don't want it mucked
over with a lot of gold-crazy lunatics."

Bud laughed and reached for the bacon. "We
ain't been followed up with stampedes so far," he
pointed out. "Burro Lode never caused a ripple in

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