“Any gold there?” Ned wanted to know.
“Sure there is—if you can find it. It’s in Montana, and Montana is a good gold region. I’ve panned out some pretty good stuff there myself. Course, it wasn’t anything like Blue Rock.”
“What’s Blue Rock?” asked Bob. “That’s the kind of soil they find diamonds in, isn’t it?”
“You’re thinking of Africa,” remarked Jerry.
“Blue Rock is the name of a mine,” resumed Bill Cromley. “I never got a chance at it, but some lucky fellows did, and they took out a whole chest full of gold. But, no—I won’t call them lucky,” he added, with a shake of his head.
“Why not?” inquired Ned.
“Because of what happened to ’em,” and Bill Cromley shook his head dolefully.
“What happened?” demanded Jerry.
“The worst that could happen to anybody. They lost their lives, and the gold, too. The miners had about cleaned out the mine—taken a fortune in gold from it. They packed it in a chest and set out for the East, putting the chest of gold on a stage coach.
“But the stage horses ran away on the worst part of the trail, the coach was upset and went over a cliff, horses, driver, passengers, chest of gold and all. It was just the end of everything!”