“Well,” said Wellesly, “since you both say so, it must be all right. The joke is on me, gentlemen.” He took a flask from his breast pocket. “There isn’t much left in this bottle, but as far as it will go, I acknowledge the corn.”
The men each took a drink, Wellesly finished the liquor and threw the empty flask on a sandheap beside the road. Light clouds had risen, so that the sun and all the western sky were obscured and there were no shadows to suggest to him that they were going east instead of west. They were nearing a depression in the Fernandez mountains. Haney pointed to it, saying:
“When we get there we can show you just the lay of the land.”
They passed through the break and a barren plain lay spread out before them bounded by precipitous mountains which swerved on either hand toward the range in which they were riding.
“That,” said Haney, “is the Fernandez plain. You remember crossing that, surely?” Wellesly nodded. “And the mountains over there,” Haney went on, “are the ’Ermosas.”
“The range just this side of Las Plumas,” said Wellesly. “Yes, I am getting my bearings now.”
“I’m going prospecting in them mountains,” said Jim. “I’m satisfied there’s heaps of gold there. I’m going up into that canyon you see at the foot of that big peak. I was in there two weeks ago and I found quartz that was just lousy with gold. You fellows better break away and come along with me. I’ll bet you can’t make more money anywhere else.”
“I don’t care to go prospecting,” said Wellesly, “but if you make a good strike, and develop it enough to show what it is, I’ll engage to sell it for you.”
“Good enough! It’s a bargain!” Jim cried. “Just give me your address, stranger, so I’ll know where to dig you up when I need you.”
Wellesly handed his card and Jim carefully put it away in his pocketbook.