Kalman sat still on his horse, looking from one to the other in utter bewilderment. Brown was still yelling at intervals, and wildly waving his hat. At length Kalman turned to Mrs. Brown.
"You seem to be sane, anyway," he said; "perhaps you will tell me what they all mean?"
"It means, Kalman," said the little woman, offering him both hands, "we are so glad that we don't know what to do. We have got back our mine."
"The mine!" gasped Kalman faintly. "Impossible! Why, Brown there—"
"Yes! Brown here," yelled that individual; "I know Brown. He's a corker! But he's sometimes wrong, and this is one of the times. A mine, and a company! And there's the man that did it! Jack French, to whom I take off my hat! He has just got home, and we have just heard his tale, and—school's out and the band's going to play and the game begin. And get down from your broncho, you graven image!" Here Brown pulled Kalman headlong from his horse. "And Jack will perform. I have not been mad like this for a thousand years. I have been in Hades for the last month, and now I'm out! I know I am quite mad, but it's fine while it lasts. Now, Jack, the curtain's up. Let the play proceed."
The story was simple enough. Immediately after the discovery of the mine French had arranged with Mr. Robert Menzies that he should make application with the Department of the Interior at Ottawa for the necessary mining rights. The application had been made, but the Department had failed to notify the local agent.
"So," said Jack, "the mine is yours again, Kalman."
"No," said Kalman, "not mine, ours; yours as much as mine, Jack, or not mine at all."
"And the Company!" yelled Brown. "Tell him about the Company. Let the play proceed."
"Oh," said French, with an air of indifference, "Mr. Menzies has a company all organized and in his pocket, waiting only approval of the owner of the mine."