“Any gold here?” answered Tom. “Ham, tell them what you know.”
“Mrs. Gray, when I left you so mysteriously I came up here at Captain Gray’s direction to make a thorough survey—to find out, if possible, if Petersen’s was an idle dream or the real thing. It was real! I have already panned enough of the sand of Lost River through my fingers to make a fair meal ticket for this party. It is true that we have not found the real vein, but we know it cannot be far from here, and we are going to search for it.”
“Say! Whose gold mine is this?” demanded Lieutenant Hippy Wingate.
“Whose? Why, Miss Briggs’, of course,” answered Ham White. “I have sent a trusty ranger to Seattle to file her claim, which we have staked out broadly, and we are in hopes that it may take in the mother lode. In any event, we are on the ground, and we will broaden our claim so that you may be protected. Am I forgiven for all the deception I have practiced on you and Miss Briggs and the others?” asked White, addressing Grace.
“It is for us to ask your pardon, Mr. White, for suspecting that you were not what you seemed, or so it seemed to us at one time.”
Stacy had leaped from his horse and was digging feverishly in the sands of Lost River.
“I got one! Whoopee!” he howled, holding up a “nugget” nearly as big as an egg.
Hippy snatched the “nugget” from him and turned it over in his hand, then broke into uproarious laughter.
“Why, you simp! That’s not a nugget, it is merely a piece of quartz. Dig some more, Chunky.”
“I suggest that we do not lose our heads, and that we make camp and behave,” cried Grace.