“Yes. I’ll tell you how. Coming from ’Frisco I struck Frost’s Bar with a hundred dollars in my pocket. A hundred dollars! Sometimes I wonder if there is so much money in the world, now that I am dead broke! Well, I had been meaning to buy a claim, and was walkin’ ’round when I met a sleek appearin’ man, who looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He asked me what my plans were, and I told him I wanted to buy a claim. ‘You’re the very man I’m lookin’ after,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a rich claim here, but my health has given way, and I haven’t strength to work it. I’m willin’ to sell for half price.’
“Well, I looked at the claim, and I liked the appearance of it. The artful rascal found out how much money I had, and asked me a hundred dollars for the claim. ‘But,’ said I, ‘that won’t leave me anything to work it with.’ ‘I like you, Mr. Stockton,’ he said, as he grabbed my hand, and the tears came into his eyes. ‘I feel like bein’ a true friend to you. I’ll let you have it for ninety dollars, and that ain’t half what it’s worth.’
“Well, to make a long story short, I paid over the ninety dollars, and he wrote out a paper making over the claim to me. Then he shook hands with me and went away. I haven’t seen him since.”
“Wasn’t the claim a good one?” asked Grant.
“Yes, the best at the Bar.”
“Then I don’t see what you have to complain of.”
“I’ll tell you. The next mornin’ I went ‘round to take possession of my claim, when I saw a stout, good-looking man workin’ it. ‘Hold on, my friend,’ I said, ‘what are you doin’ with my claim?’
“‘Your claim!’ repeated Charles Ambrose, for that was his name. ‘What are you talkin’ about?’
“‘I reckon I speak plain enough,’ said I, provoked. ‘I bought that claim last night, and I mean to hold it.’
“‘Oh, you bought it?’ said Ambrose. ‘Of whom did you buy it?’