"How'd you pay for it?" blurted Terry. "Did you have the money with you?"
"Yes. Our outfit had put in $200 apiece, for the trip across the plains, and we'd spent only half, and I carried that because I was treasurer. I paid for the stage ride from the station, though; but in Denver I worked at the hotel—and—and I nursed a gambler who was sick, and when he found out that I'd studied medicine he said I'd saved his life and he gave me $250 as a doctor's fee. But I'm not a regular doctor yet. Now you fellows are to come and work the mine. It's named the Golden Prize, and it's yours!"
Harry stopped short. Terry scarcely could believe his ears.
"What?" challenged Harry.
"Aw, get out!" scoffed Terry.
"But it is," insisted Archie. "I've been just praying that you'd come along. I didn't really save that gambler's life, though he was right sick. But you saved mine; and if he thought what I did was worth $250, I reckon what you did was worth three or four times that because you risked your lives, too. And anyway, I can't stay. It's too high for me up here. I lose my breath. I feel a heap better down on the plains, and I guess I'll go back home for a spell. If I don't give the mine to you somebody'll jump it. There isn't anybody up here I can trust."
"But, great Cæsar!" expostulated Harry. "We'll work it, if you want us to, while you're gone. We won't accept it forever, though."
"I should say not!" affirmed Terry. "We can find our own claim."
"No, you can't. The trained miners are the ones who find the best ground, and you're not trained. All right: you can work it just as if it were your own, and you can have all you find till I come back."
"Cracky, but that will make us rich, won't it?" cried Terry.