“‘The Lucky Find,’” announced Van Patten, “is to-day the best paying mine within a hundred miles of ‘The Last Chance.’”
Barnes nodded. After all, when analyzed, that was not necessarily a very rash statement.
“Why, look here,” exclaimed Van Patten, “take a peek at this.”
And before Barnes’ astonished gaze Van Patten spread out one of the identical gorgeous certificates which he himself had described to Aunt Philomela. There it was within touch—the very thing he had seen the man draw out when sitting in the hut by the side of three-fingered Bill. He was glad to have one thing at least substantiated. It was swirled over with a bewildering design of engraved spirals. Across its face the name of the mine was dashed in a flourishing script that reminded him of the exhibition writing of an old-time teacher of penmanship. Each certificate proclaimed that it represented one hundred shares of stock in ‘The Lucky Find’—par value one hundred dollars. Barnes held the crinkling papers in his hand a moment as though suspecting still that this was only some particularly vivid piece of dreaming.
“Just had these made in New York,” explained Van Patten.
“They are very pretty,” commented Barnes.
“And growing prettier every day,” answered Van Patten. “That stock is at a premium. A month ago we struck it rich—real gold this time.”
The man spoke as though he, at least, believed it.
“That ought to be good news for the stockholders,” said Barnes, thinking of John.
“It will put every mother’s son of ’em where they need do no more worrying,” declared Van Patten proudly.