"Sartin, Dick," said Bradley; and he entered the cabin, followed by Ben.
"What was that you were saying just now?" asked Richard Dewey.
"Tell him, Ben," said Bradley.
"Jake was saying that we ought to pay you a commission on the gold-dust we took from your claim, Mr. Dewey," said our hero, for that is Ben's position in our story.
"Why should you?" asked Dewey.
"Because it's yours. You found it, and you ought to get some good of it."
"So I have, Jake. In the first place, I got a thousand dollars out of it before I fell sick—that is, sprained my ankle."
"But you ain't gettin' anything out of it now."
"I think I am," said Dewey, smiling and looking gratefully at his two friends. "I am getting the care and attention of two faithful friends, who will see that I do not suffer while I am laid up in this lonely hut."
"We don't want to be paid for that, Dick."