"What'll we all do, then?" queried George, aghast. "Light out and go down to Denver?"
"Not by a jugful!" And Harry swung the two pies. "We're here to stick. I reckon three able-bodied men and a dog and a nice yellow mule can earn a living somehow."
"I'll stay," asserted Terry.
"So will I," asserted George.
"I'll stay. I'll help Harry cook," proffered Virgie.
Harry picked her up and kissed her.
"No, you can't, Virgie. You go to the folks and tell them we're well and hustling and never say die, and pretty soon we'll be millionaires. But you see you can't stay with us, because we're liable to be traveling 'round, looking for the gold, and we may have to sleep in the rain, and sometimes there won't be much to cook."
Virgie wept. She was only a little girl, you know.
"But I want a mine," she said. "Don't I get any mine?"
"Of course you do," assured Harry. "You can have the mine George was working on. It's named the True Blue. George doesn't want it. And it's a real mine—see those holes?"