“Grub stake,” he said casually. “You pay me back when you strike it rich.”
“Right,” Roy answered. Mr. Manley grinned. His son was taking it like a veteran. None of this “thanks, Dad” stuff. All business.
“I suppose we go fifty-fifty?” the ranch owner asked innocently. “I reckon that’s the usual.”
“Sure,” Roy agreed. “Fifty-fifty. You’ll have four times as much as this when we get back.” He stuck the money into his pocket.
Mr. Manley nodded gravely. “Nothin’ like confidence,” he said. “Go ahead now. Don’t let me keep you. When you’re all set, come in an’ say good-bye to your mother an’ me.”
“You bet we will!” the boy exclaimed, relaxing for the moment. “And you know what this means to Teddy and me, Dad. I’m not going to—”
“Get along now,” Mr. Manley interrupted. “They’re waitin’ outside for you!”
He clapped his son on the shoulder and turned to his desk. Roy, head up, his eyes shining, strode toward the door. What a father he had!
Nick rode over to Bannister’s place and bought three mules. The moment he returned with them, the loading began. Mr. Manley considered Silent’s time of employment ended, so the puncher was relieved of all duties on the ranch. He superintended the preparations, as befitted his experience. Nick, while he knew something about mining from hearing the cowboys talk of it, had never actually lived in a mining camp.
At last the hour for departure came. The brothers, mounted on Star and Flash, were in the lead. Behind them came the three mules, well laden. Then Nick and Silent brought up the rear. It was a two or three days’ journey to Nugget Camp. Each man had a canteen of water on his saddle, besides a rifle, and on each belt hung a revolver.