“I dunno what’s this all about? Did you expect that there crucible’d be half-full of gold? Mebbe you thought ’twould be plumb full.” There was no reply. “Why, on a rough calculation, I reckon this undertakin’ ’s goin’ to come out all right.”
“You mean that it’s going to pay?”
“’Course I do. What ails you?”
“It seems such a small quantity,” Ben faltered.
“It’ll seem smaller yet, when it’s cast in a bar. I’ve got to melt this again to git it into shape. Besides, I reckon ’bout half of it’s silver.”
“Silver! And silver’s worth only fifty cents an ounce!” Ben sat down on some lumber and gloomily watched Mundon melt the gold in a crucible.
“Yes, so ’tis; but gold’s worth twenty dollars an ounce. Didn’t expect ’twould be all gold, did you? I’m a-figurin’ roughly on the tons of stuff you’ve got in sight and the amount of gold you’ve got out of one jiggerful, and—you’ve got a good thing all right, Ben. But you’re just like all kids,—beggin’ pardon,—onreasonable.”