"Maybe worth much—maybe worth nothing," he said.
"Can't you find out?"
"I haven't got enough money to work the property. It's the only claim I've been able to pay my dues on, all these years. But I kept payin' 'em, sort of hoping somethin' would turn up some day. I've always thought it should be a good claim. It's in a good location. But I've never had enough money ahead to do any more work on it."
"Can't you get any one to finance you?" asked Joe.
"Not me," sighed the old man. "All through Montana I got the reputation of bein' too unlucky. They're afraid to take a chance on me any more. They say, 'Why, that's Jad Wilson's claim. Even if it is good, he's always been so all-fired unlucky that we'll be bound to lose our money!' So they pass it up."
"Never mind. Perhaps you'll come into your own some day," said Mrs. Hardy comfortingly.
"It'll have to come mighty soon, then," replied the old man, with a wry smile. "I've waited so long now that it seems I'll be dead and gone before my luck starts to turn."
However, under the influence of the warm fire and the cheerful company his natural optimism manifested itself and he was soon entertaining his new-found friends with stories both humorous and tragic of his adventures in the early days of the rough-and-ready mining camps of the West.
"I'd love to go out there!" said Joe wistfully.
"It ain't all beer and skittles," said Jadbury Wilson. "There's quite a bit of adventure, but there's a lot of rough livin' and mighty skimpy eatin' at times. I've often seen the day when all my flour and beans would be gone and the grocer wouldn't trust me for another nickel's worth. And, of course, the West has changed a lot nowadays. It's got mighty civilized, they tell me."