Bill slanted a glance at the rock, and another at the sly, watchful eyes of Al Freeman. Mr. Emmett was holding in his fingers a bit of the richest ore Bill had taken from his vein on Parowan Number One. He had concealed it under some sacks in the corner, and its appearance at the breakfast table was, to say the least, inopportune.
"That? That's a specimen I've been packing around for luck," he said carelessly. "Wish I had a mountain of it; then I could have fresh eggs and cream for breakfast too."
Mr. Emmett laid the rich specimen in Rayfield's outstretched hand and seated himself on the box, his hard, brown eyes glancing sharply now and then at Bill. Mr. Rayfield set down his cup of coffee and pursed his lips over the sample. His pleasant face glowed with professional admiration for a pretty bit of ore.
"Yes-s—a mountain of that would insure a man against canned milk for life!" he chuckled. "If you had even a good vein of ore like that, Mr. Dale, your friends would need to pray that millions wouldn't make you money-mad."
Doris held out her hand for it, and Mr. Rayfield smiled as he placed it in her palm. He did not say anything at all.
Doris bent her brown head over the sample, then looked up quickly at Bill, her eyes wide and questioning.
"O-oh—that's gold—is that gold, Bill? All those yellow patches? It—it doesn't look just like pyrites——"
"That's gold, Doris." To save his life Bill could not have kept the tenderness, the deep exultation out of his voice.
"Gold! Why, it—it's almost solid gold! Why, where——"
Bill pulled himself together, laughed lazily and helped himself to the fried potatoes.