"What—the mining man?"
"That's right."
"Well," exclaimed Phil, "what in the world was he talking to you about?"
"Oh, some kind of a mining deal," grumbled Bud. "Wanted me to go down into Mexico!"
"What'd you tell him?" challenged the little man, sitting up suddenly in his chair. "Say, that old boy's got rocks!"
"He can keep 'em for all of me," observed Bud comfortably. "You know what I think about Mexico."
"Sure; but what was his proposition? What did he want you to do?"
"Search me! He was mighty mysterious about it. Said he wanted a man he could trust."
"Well, holy Moses, Bud!" cried Phil, "wake up! Didn't you get his proposition?"
"No, he wasn't talking about it. Said it was a good thing and he'd pay me well, or let me in on the deal; but when he hollered Mexico I quit. I've got a plenty."