"Fair," answered the youth, as carelessly as he could.
"Not bringing out anything big, eh?"
"Not very big."
"I don't think this gulch is worth shucks. I am going elsewhere," and the old miner slouched off with his pick, shovel, and pan over his shoulder.
"That's where he is missing it," whispered Si. "But we can't tell him the truth—he'd come down on us and so would a hundred others, in no time. We want to keep as much of this gulch to ourselves as we can. We've got too many neighbors already."
"Si, you're gittin' to be a wise boy," remarked Maybe Dixon, with an approving nod of his head. "When you spot a good thing, be sure an' keep it to yourself, is my motto."
That evening Bob looked into the hollow tree and then burst into the tent in excitement.
"It's gone!"
"What?" asked Si, who was frying some fish Mark had brought in.
"The bag we put in the hollow tree."