Loaded Dice

by Ellery H. Clark

Gordon laughed. "Yes," he said, with irony, "just to start with, that does sound a little discouraging. Haven't you anything better than that to say for the others?"

Frost sighed. "Better—or worse; I don't know which," he answered. "The silver mine has really caused me a great deal of anxiety. The deposit itself is wonderfully, almost incredibly, rich. One of the most interesting problems, purely from a geological standpoint, that I think I have ever seen. The truth about it is that it's totally undeveloped, and it's practically an impossibility to predict anything about the depth and extent of the deposit. As a straight mining proposition, it's easily the biggest gamble of the three, but really nothing more than a gamble. If, however—" he paused for a moment, and then continued apologetically: "This is, of course, entirely outside my province, but if the mine is to be looked at at all from the stock market point of view, and not entirely on its intrinsic merits, then the extreme richness of the surface deposit is so spectacular that I should judge that would be a strong point in the mine's favor."

Gordon smiled. "Sometimes," he said softly, "even in the case of a perfectly legitimate enterprise like this, people will insist on looking at it merely as a market venture. It's a curious thing, Frost, isn't it?"

Frost, feeling sure that he understood Gordon perfectly, smiled also. "Yes," he assented, "it is. So many people nowadays want to live without working, and, as a result, they get worked."

Gordon laughed delightedly. "That's good, Frost," he cried, "very good, indeed. I must remember that. But to get back to business, how about the copper mine at the lake?"

Frost at once resumed his wonted gravity. "The copper mine at the lake, if we could get it, Mr. Gordon"—he lowered his voice confidentially—"I believe to be far and away the best of the lot. It's really exceedingly interesting. You know, yourself, of course, that the only ground at the lake not already taken up is south of Octagon County, down where the Batavian and the Anona and all those properties are located, or else north as far as Seneca. Mining men have always disagreed, and still do disagree, as to what becomes of the Onondaga lode when it dips. Personally I have always believed that somewhere about the locality of the Batavian was the place to strike the lode, so, on my way west, I stopped there first of all, without, I must confess, finding much that interested me. The Seneca theory I've never been a believer in, and I hardly think I should have stopped there at all except that I wanted to do a thorough job. As a result, however, I'm afraid I've got to admit that I've been wrong, and that Paine and those other fellows have been right. It happened like this: I got in with a man named Peters out there, and got to know him pretty well, too. His own claim is a rather fair one; nothing startling; just a good, likely claim; but the one adjoining his is the jewel. They're all talking about it out there, and I got information enough, and saw samples enough, to convince me that that's the mine we want. But—and I'm sorry to say it's a big But—the claim is owned by an old fellow named Mason, a man of character and intelligence, but half crazy over the mine. It's meat and drink, body and soul, wife and child, to him, and he's absolutely fixed against parting with it, even though it's clear to every one but himself that he can never develop it alone. So there's where we stand. My advice would be that if you can get Mason's claim by hook or crook, you want it; it's the best of the three. If you actually can't get it, try the silver mine, unless you're unwilling to run the risk of losing your market reputation by getting your friends into a gamble that may go wrong. If you have that feeling about it, think over the Arizona proposition pretty carefully before you decide on it; it's safe, but hardly immensely profitable, I think. Do I make myself clear?"

Gordon thought a moment. "Perfectly," he said at length, "except in one particular. You speak of getting Mason's claim by hook or crook. Just what do you mean by that?"

Frost looked a trifle uncomfortable. "Well," he said at last, "we none of us like to own up to making failures, but I feel that somehow I ought to have done better with Mason. It may be all fancy, but I think the right man could have put the thing through. It's like this: Mason's got a pretty daughter, and there's a young fellow named Harrison who works with Mason who's sweet on her. Now, I guess, when you come right down to it, Harrison's word would go a long way toward deciding the thing with the old man; and I don't think I managed to hit it off just right with Harrison. They're a queer crowd out there, and I believe the man you want to send to clench things had better be the hail-fellow-well-met kind who can keep his end up whether it's drinking whisky, or fighting, or talking copper claims. Those seem to be the three principal industries of Seneca, and you can imagine the impression I made. Whisky always disagreed with me, and I'm essentially a man of peace. You need a man with red blood in him to get on out there; what they term, I believe, from something I overheard supposed to be somewhat to my discredit, 'a good mixer.' The right man can get that claim; I'm confident of it, but, frankly, I'm not the man. You see, I'm really not what you'd call a sport, Mr. Gordon."

Gordon laughed long and heartily. "No, Frost," he said, when he could speak, "your worst enemy couldn't say that about you. But you're a mighty good judge of human nature, just the same, which is infinitely more to your credit. I think I catch your idea perfectly. The only thing now is to get the man, and that may be difficult. I wonder, now, how I would do?"

Mr. Frost gazed at him meditatively. Then his face brightened. "I confess that hadn't occurred to me," he said, "but I can see many points in favor of such a decision. In the first place, you can thus keep the thing quiet, and that, of course, is of prime importance. As to your qualifications, you've been an athlete of distinction; I know you can adapt yourself to all sorts of company, and I believe, further, whether it's to your credit or not, you bear the reputation of never having been known to refuse a drink. The mining details I think I could prime you sufficiently on, but, really, after all, it's the other qualities that are going to carry the thing through." He nodded thoughtfully to himself, then said again, "Yes, I can certainly see many points in favor of such a decision."