"And you say he got out his million, and there is still something left in the gravel?"
Reeves laughed: "I would call it something! Camillo Bill says he only worked one of the claims—and only about half of that. Yes, I would say there was something left."
"I reckon a man don't always know his friends," murmured Brent, after a long silence, "I wonder where I can find Camillo Bill?"
"He's in town, somewhere. I saw him this afternoon."
Brent turned to Snowdrift, who had listened, wide-eyed to the narrative: "You wait here, dear," he said, "And I'll hunt up a parson, and a ring, and Camillo Bill. I need a—a best man!"
"Oh, why don't you wait a week or so and give us time to get ready so we can have a real wedding?" cried Mrs. Reeves.
Brent shook his head: "I reckon this one will be real enough," he grinned, "And besides, we've waited quite a while, already."
As he turned into the street from the path leading from the door he almost bumped into a man in the darkness:
"Hello! Is that you, Ace-In-The-Hole? Yer the
man I'm huntin' fer. Friend of yourn's hurt an' wants to see you."