"That's a different matter. Dick's got a kind of dignity, so that it seems natural to call him Mister; but as for me, I'm Jake Bradley, not a bad sort of fellow, but I don't wear store-clo'es, and I'd rather be called Jake by them as know me well."
"All right, Jake; but you haven't answered my question."
"What about?"
"The gold-dust."
"Oh yes. Well, I should say that the dust we've got out must be worth nigh on to five hundred dollars."
"So much as that?" asked Ben, his eyes sparkling.
"Yes, all of that. That claim of Dewey's is a splendid one, and no mistake. I think we ought to pay him a commission for allowing us to work it."
"I think so too, Jake."
They were sitting outside the rude hut which had been roughly put together on the summit of the mountain. The door was open, and what they said could be heard by the occupant, who was stretched on a hard pallet in one corner of the cabin.
"Come in, you two," he called out.