"No. But I'll buy your sluice. How'll you sell it?"
"That sluice? Seventy-five dollars."
"Whew!"
"It's forty feet long, of three boards; that means 120 feet, and lumber's $300 a thousand feet and you have to put in your order a week ahead. With the props and the cleats and the nails there's over $40 of material in that sluice, and I reckon the labor of hauling and building is wuth the balance."
"I'll give you $50," snapped Harry.
"Sold. But hurry up. We can't wait long here to sell a sluice. There's too much doing 'round the corner."
Harry fished out three gold pieces—two twenties and a ten—and passed them over.
"Better take it off this property quick or somebody else will," advised the man; and away he and his partner strode, for the strike in Bobtail Gulch just across a little divide south.
"Lucky again!" jubilated Harry—who, Terry saw, had been smart. "Cost a lot of money, but we couldn't have made it much cheaper ourselves and we'd have been held up waiting for boards. You sit on it while I go for Jenny. We haul the whole thing at once."
"Maybe we could have got it for nothing, after they'd left," proposed Terry, with an eye to the general grab-all as various persons swarmed over the abandoned claims.