"Jeff may go to Denver to-morrow," said Larry, "but of course there's no hurry——"
Bent took out a silver cigarette case and offered it to Berkely. "See here, Larry," he said, "what the devil do you fellows want with the 'Lone Tree'? Are you going to work it, or are you getting it for some one else? Of course, it's none of my business—but I'd like to know, just——"
"Oh, I'm not in this. This is Jeff's deal. I don't know much about it, but I think he'd probably work it for a while."
Together they walked into the office, and Berkely spread some papers out over the desk. "Jeff told me to draw these up. I think you'll find everything properly stated."
Bent nodded. "Humph! He feels pretty certain I'll sign, doesn't he?"
Berkely stood beside him, smoking and leaning over his shoulder, but didn't reply.
Bent laughed. "Well, it's all cut and dried. Seems a pity to have put you to so much trouble, Larry. I haven't made up my mind. They say twice as much money goes into gold mines as ever comes out of 'em. I guess it's true. If it wasn't for Jeff Wray in this deal I'd sign that paper in a minute. But I've always had an idea that some day he'd make his pile, and I don't relish the idea of his making it on me. He's a visionary—a fanatic on the gold in these mountains, but fortune has a way of favoring the fool——"
"Sounds as though you might be talking about me," said a voice from the doorway, where Jeff stood smiling, his broad figure completely blocking the entrance.
Bent turned, confused, but recovered himself with a short laugh. "Yes, I was," he replied slowly. "I've put twenty thousand dollars in that hole in the rocks, and I hate to leave it."
Jeff Wray wiped his brow, went to the cooler, drew a glass of water, and slowly drank it.