“What’s the matter,” the young men asked.

“I happened to think of something. Cisneros is a miner.”

“Yes.”

“And he knows this country.”

“Yes.”

“He’s honest.”

“He has every appearance of being so. What are you driving at?”

“And he told us that his silver mines were not paying very well,” persisted the boy.

“Yes.”

“If we find gold we’re going to find a great deal, are we not?”