The stranger hesitated before he answered slowly:
“My name is—Edwards—Hugh Edwards. I came here from Tucson. I want to prospect—look for gold, you know. I heard there were some—ah—placers, I think you call them, in this cañon.”
The Lizard grinned, a wide-mouthed grin of superior knowledge. “Hit’s plumb easy t’ see y’ know all about prospectin’. Y’r some edicated, I jedge. Ben t’ school an’ them thar college places a right smart lot, ain’t y’ now?”
The other replied with some sharpness:
“I suppose it is not impossible for one to learn how to dig for gold, even if one has learned to read and write, is it?”
The Lizard responded heartily, but with tolerant superiority:
“Larn—shore—ain’t nothin’ t’ pannin’ gold ’cept a lot of hard work an’ mighty pore pay. Anybody’ll larn ye. Take the Pardners up yonder—old Bob Hill an’ Thad Grove—they’d—“ he checked himself suddenly and slapped a lean thigh. “By Glory! I’ll bet a pretty you’ve done come t’ find that thar old lost Mine with th’ Iron Door, heh? Ain’t ye now?” He leered at the stranger with shifty, close-set eyes, his long head with its narrow sloping brow cocked sidewise with what was meant to be a very knowing, “I-have-you-now-sir” sort of air.
The man who had given his name as Hugh Edwards laughed.
“Really I can’t say that I would object to finding any old mine if it was a good one, would you?”
The Lizard shook his head solemnly and with a voice and manner that was nicely calculated to invite confidence, replied: