“Hum! Thunder Mountain,” mused Ned. “That’s where we’re going to help Tinny Mallison prospect his mine. I don’t just fancy Noddy Nixon being even in the same county with us.”
“Me, either,” admitted Jerry. “But what are we going to do?”
“Well, I know one thing I’m not going to do!” declared Bill Cromley. He slapped his hand down on his leg with the report like that from a small pistol. “I’m not going to take his offer—that’s what I’m not going to do! It wasn’t clinched. He said he’d bring me some money to bind the bargain. Until I take that I’m not bound to him. That is the law of grubstaking, and that’s what applies here. I’m through with this Noddy Nixon! Shoot himself to get out of fighting! Bah!”
“How about us?” asked Jerry, struck by a sudden idea.
“Eh? What’s that?” came from the miner.
“I say, what about us?” resumed Jerry. “Look here, fellows, and Mr. Cromley, I have a plan!” and his voice was eager. “We are going out West to form a partnership with Mr. Mallison. His mine may pan out rich, and, again, it may be a fizzle. But if we could have a chance of looking for this chest of gold, it would give us a two-to-one shot. What do you say, Mr. Cromley, will you come with us on the same terms—or better—than those you talked of with Noddy Nixon?”
“You mean go to Thunder Mountain with you boys?”
“To Thunder Mountain and Blue Rock both!” stipulated Jerry.
His chums looked at him in some surprise. So did the old miner. Then, suddenly, as if having made up his mind in a flash, Mr. Cromley again clapped his hand down on his thigh and cried: