“You ought to stake a claim, Dick,” said big Bob. “I don’t know much about the process. But that’s the thing to do, isn’t it?”
“Huh,” said Dick, generously. “Belongs to you boys well as me. You thought of it.”
“Oughter work it,” spoke up Art. “Might take out a good poke this Summer.”
This remark recalled Tom Farnum to the object of his expedition.
“No, no, men,” he said, sharply. “Don’t get bitten with the gold fever now. We’ve got work ahead of us, work that we contracted to do.”
“Right,” said Dick.
Art’s face fell, but he, too, nodded agreement.
“Just the same,” said Farnum, softening, “there’s nothing to prevent you two from staking a claim. Some day you may come back to work it.”
“Belongs to us no more’n the rest o’ you,” said Dick, sturdily. “The young fellers wanted us to make a try at it here just for luck, an’ we did.”
A warm debate followed, the boys protesting they were not entitled to any part in the find. Finally Dick capitulated.