That was what was puzzling Ruth. Flapjack, who knew all about such things—and knew the shortest trail, of course—was not to be trusted. He had money in his pocket and as Min said, a little money drove the man to drink.
“And Min can’t go. She is needed in several further scenes of the picture,” groaned Ruth.
“I tell you what,” Helen said eagerly, “we have just got to take one other person into our confidence.”
“You are right,” agreed Ruth. “I know whom you mean, Nell. Tom, of course.”
“Yes, Tom is perfectly safe,” said Helen. “He won’t even go up there and stake out a claim for himself if I tell him not to. But he will rush to Kingman and file on our claims.”
“And take these specimens of ore to the assayer,” put in Ruth.
It was so agreed, and when Min and her father reappeared at the camp the suggestion was made to them. Evidently the Western girl had been much puzzled about this very thing and she hailed the suggestion with acclaim.
“Seems to me I ought to be the one to file on them claims,” Flapjack said slowly. “And takin’ one more into this thing means spreadin’ it out thinner.”
“I wouldn’t trust you to go to Kingman with money in your pocket,” declared his daughter frankly. “You know, Pop, you said long ago that if ever you did strike it rich you was goin’ to be a gentleman and cut out all the rough stuff.”
“That’s right,” admitted Mr. Peters. “Me for a plug hat and a white vest with a gold watchchain across it, and a good seegar in my mouth. Yes, sir! That’s me. And a feller can’t afford to git ’toxicated and roll ’round the streets with them sort of duds on—no sir! If this is my lucky strike I’ve sure got to live up to it.”