"I thought you would. Well, I am about to give you an important commission. Do you know where the Black Hills are situated?"
"Yes, sir; in Wyoming."
"Precisely. Well, I suppose you know that multitudes have flocked there in search of gold."
"Yes, sir."
"I myself own half a mine there. It is known as the Blackstone. A man named Fox, who is resident at the mine, owns the other half, and its working is done under his direction. Now I have a shrewd suspicion that he is cheating me, taking advantage of my absence and probable inability to form any adequate judgment of the mine and its value."
"What makes you think so, sir?"
"His continually writing discouraging accounts of the mine, expressing his great disappointment with it. In his last letter he winds up by saying that he is willing to give or take two thousand dollars for it, though it cost the two of us ten thousand."
"Doesn't he run a risk in making such an offer?"
"Yes, but he thinks I can't attend to it myself, and will sacrifice my interest readily, just to get rid of anxiety."
"I see."