“Huh? Yes—I—I—”
“Well, I got about fifty. We'll go pardners on the proposition, an' we'll dally 'round the range yonder an' see what we can see. What do you say?”
“Sure, sure,” answered the dentist.
“Well, it's a go then, hey?”
“That's the word.”
“Well, le's have a drink on it.”
They drank with profound gravity.
They fitted out the next day at the general merchandise store of Keeler—picks, shovels, prospectors' hammers, a couple of cradles, pans, bacon, flour, coffee, and the like, and they bought a burro on which to pack their kit.
“Say, by jingo, you ain't got a horse,” suddenly exclaimed Cribbens as they came out of the store. “You can't get around this country without a pony of some kind.”
Cribbens already owned and rode a buckskin cayuse that had to be knocked in the head and stunned before it could be saddled. “I got an extry saddle an' a headstall at the hotel that you can use,” he said, “but you'll have to get a horse.”