“It sure looks good!” pronounced Denver unctuously, “I never saw a place that looked better. All this gossan and porphyry, and that copper stain up there–and just look at that dacite cap!”
He waved his hand at the high cliff behind and Murray’s eye became beady and bright.
“Yes,” he said rubbing his horny hands together and gazing at Denver benevolently, “we think the indications are good–were you thinking of locating in these parts?”
“No, just going through,” answered Denver slowly. “I was camping by the crick and saw that copper-stain, so I thought I’d follow it up. How far are you down with your drill?”
“Quite a ways, quite a ways,” responded Murray evasively. “You don’t look like an ordinary prospector–who’d you say it was you were working for?”
79Denver turned and looked at him, and grunted contemptuously.
“J. P. Morgan,” he said and after a silence Murray answered with a thin-lipped smile.
“That’s all right, that’s all right,” he said with a cackle. “No hard feeling–I just wanted to know. You’re an honest young man, but there are others who are not, and we naturally like to inquire. Are you staying with Mr. Hill?”
“Well, not so you’d notice it,” replied Denver brusquely. “I’m camped in that cave across the crick.”
“Oh, is that so?” purred Murray driving relentlessly on in his quest for information, “did he show you any of his claims?”