"That's pretty steep, isn't it, Obed?"
"I will cheerfully bear my part of it," said Obed. "I remember there was an old fellow in our place who owned considerable property—at any rate he was taxed for fifteen thousand dollars. Whenever taxes became due he was always groanin' and predictin' that he'd end his days in the poorhouse. My father, who was only taxed for fifteen hundred, said to him one day, 'Mr. Higgins, if you'll give me half of your property, I'll agree to pay taxes on the whole, so that you'll have nothing to pay.'"
"Did he accept?" asked Harry, with a smile.
"Not much, but he stopped growlin'. It may have given him a new idea of the matter."
"How soon do you think of getting away, Obed?"
"As soon as we have sold the claim," answered the Yankee. "When it gets reported round the camp what we've found there'll be plenty that'll want to buy it on speculation, you may be sure of that."
"I didn't think of that," said Harry, his eyes brightening. "We're luckier than I thought."
"Yes," answered Obed jocularly, "we're men of property now. I'm afraid we'll have to pay taxes ourselves when we get home."