"It wasn't ours, was it?" retorted Harry. "But it is now." And he left at a fast limp.
He returned with Jenny, harnessed, and they triumphantly dragged away the sluice, carrying also the scissors props on which it had rested. Its joints indeed threatened to part, but by picking their path they arrived with it intact at the Golden Prize.
Their preacher neighbor greeted them with a wave of hand and came over to inspect.
"Looks as though you were going right into business," he asserted. "I thought maybe you'd join the rush for Bobtail."
"No, sir; we stick," assured Harry. "A bird in the hand's worth two in the bush."
"Well, depends on the bird," answered the preacher. "Now, my bird's an old crow, I'm afraid, and if I could see a fat turkey in the bush I'd drop my crow pretty quick, like those other fellows."
After dinner Harry rather ruefully examined his money belt. It was flat and limp.
"Ten dollars left," he said.
"And our dust, you know," reminded Terry. "We've the five dollars we washed out, and we can wash out more whenever we want it."
Harry brightened.