“There’s a pretty good mine,” and Tinny pointed out some men at work on a shaft inside of a mountain, boring a hole into the rock and dirt to get at the hidden gold.
“Is yours like that?” asked Ned.
“Rather better, I think,” Tinny said. “I’ve got a slab shack instead of a tent, and try to live in a fashion a bit civilized. Those fellows are just starting in,” and he indicated the tent in which the miners were living while trying for a “strike.”
“This air sure does smell good to me!” exclaimed Cromley, taking a long breath as they rolled past another mining camp. “I’ve been wanting to get back here for a long time.”
“How far is this from Blue Rock?” asked Jerry of the old miner.
“Oh, not so far,” was the vague answer. “It won’t take very long to get there in a car like this—that is, provided Mr. Mallison wants to go,” and Bill seemed somewhat depressed by the little faith the mine owner had shown in his story.
“Oh, I’ll go, if you fellows want to,” said Tinny, with an accommodating air. “And, mind you, I don’t say that that stage didn’t go over the cliff, horses and all. In fact, I know it did. But as far as finding the chest of gold goes—nothing to it, boys, nothing to it! Why, there are thousands of holes and pockets on the mountainside it might have disappeared into.”
“We’ll have a try, anyhow,” decided Ned. “That is, if we don’t strike it rich in your mine, Tinny.”
“Well, we may strike it rich, and then, again, we may have only moderate success,” was the answer. “I know there’s gold to be had in my holdings. I’ve had it tested and it assays well. Of course, it may peter out after we’ve gone in a way, but the surface indications and the trend of the ledge seem to indicate that it will get richer and thicker the farther we go. If I hadn’t believed that, I wouldn’t have sent for you fellows. But, with all that, you may get a chance to have a stab at Blue Rock.”