“Huh! I’ve wore that one more years ’n you’re old,” said the ex-hunter, and sitting down helped himself to the bread.
Perhaps the man had never talked so freely as he did now. Of hunting, of savage fights, and of mining—of anything and everything connected with Colorado’s past as he had known it. Because he had never had such interested listeners. Jim’s eyes shone, and when the subject touched on mining, he got up and went into the shack, coming back a moment later with some bits of stones lying on his palm. He held these out to Silent Pete who accepted them with sudden interest. Until he finally exclaimed:
“Glory! Where?”
Jim walked a little distance from that point of the mesa and the others followed him wondering. Then digging away some earth from the small hillock where he had paused, pointed downward.
Silent Pete gazed without speaking for a full moment. Then he stooped and gathered a few fragments of insignificant stone, while Dorothy watched him wondering. Presently the hunter looked up—his face transformed—the brilliancy of youth restored to his faded eyes.
“Silver! by gum! And—and—all the land this side that shack belongs to San Leon! Of all the dum luck—Let’s go home! Let’s go home!”
He couldn’t move fast enough. The youngsters followed him at an equal pace so excited that they scarcely knew what they were doing. Jim had found silver! Jim had discovered a mine! This meant untold wealth to their beloved host!
There was no thought in their minds of a possible mistake. It could not be. It was all as clear as daylight to Dorothy, whose reverent heart always traced “leadings” in that chain of events which we call life.
Jim had been “led” to all and through all that had happened. If he hadn’t wandered here—no use thinking about that. He had wandered, he had found the silver, it had been ordered, even the pain and suffering and grief. Oh! to get back to where they could send the good news flying to the absent owner of San Leon!