"Sure. You can have it, for all of me."
Virgie's tears dried instantly.
"All right. I'll dig in it." And off she hurried, with George's pan, in a moment to be occupied poking into the dirt with a stick.
"Let's hold a council, boys," proposed Harry. "Pat was my best customer, for pies, and I don't think I'll bother any more with this cooking business. I reckon we'll have to make a tour of the diggin's and offer the services of three men and a mule. Jenny'll need to help, if she expects to eat. There's not much free grazing left around these claims."
While they were discussing ways and means, Virgie toiled in from her "mine," carrying the empty pan.
"I sha'n't dig any more," she announced. "I'm tired."
"What have you got in your hand, Virgie?"
"A piece of my mine," and Virgie extended her prize. "I'm going to take a piece of my mine down to show papa."
"That's a good idea," approved Harry. "Take him a sample, so as to prove to him."
"Is it gold?" invited Virgie.