“Well, you look like you had struck it rich!” cried Blake. “What is it, gold or silver?”
“Gold or silver!” cried The Orphan in contempt at such cheapness. “By God, Blake, I wouldn’t sell my claim for all the gold and silver in this fool earth! Gold or silver! Why, man, I know where there is plenty of both. Here,” he cried, plunging his hand into his chaps pocket, “look at this!”
The foreman looked and whistled and took the object into his hand, where he examined it critically. “By George, it’s the yellow metal, all right, and blamed near pure!” He returned it to its owner and added: “That’s the real stuff, Orphan.”
“Yes, it is,” replied the other as he pocketed the nugget. “And I know where it came from. There’s plenty left that’s just like it, but I wouldn’t go after it if it was diamonds.”
“You wouldn’t!” exclaimed Blake in surprise. “By George, I’d go to-morrow, to-night, if I knew. Gold like that ain’t to be sneered at. It spells ranches, ease, plenty, anything you want. And you wouldn’t go for it?”
“No, I wouldn’t, and I won’t,” replied the puncher. “I’m going to stay right here on this range and make good with my hands and brains. I’m going to win the game with the cards I hold, and when I say win I mean it. There are times when gold is a dangerous thing to have, and this is one of them, as you’ll understand when I disclose my hand. When I win I won’t need gold bad enough to go through hell and hot water for it and risk not getting back to my claim, and it’s one hundred to one that I wouldn’t get back, too. And if I lose, mind you, if, I won’t have any use for it. I picked that nugget up in the middle of the damnedest desert God ever made, and when I got off it I was loco for a week. I won’t tell any friend of mine where it is because I want my friends to go on drawing their breath. I need my friends a whole lot, and that’s why I don’t tell you where it is. I was saving that for my enemies. Two have gone after it already, and haven’t been heard of since.”
“Well, you are the first man who ever told me that gold isn’t worth going after, and you have convinced me that in your case you are right,” laughed the foreman.
“You wouldn’t have to be told if you knew that desert as I do,” replied The Orphan.
“How was the sheriff last night?” asked Blake. “Or didn’t you notice, being too much occupied in your claim?”
The Orphan looked at him and then laughed softly: “He was the same as ever–the best man I ever knew. But how in thunder do you know about my claim? How did you know what I meant? I thought that I had covered that trail pretty well.”