“I am more distrustful of mining experts than of salted mines.”
The girl sighed.
“I suppose all faith has left Chicago?”
“It has—in gold-mines.”
“Now, Mr. Steele, I’ll talk to you as if you were your own sister. Have you ever done a stroke of useful toil since you were born?”
“Oh, yes; I worked on a railway.”
“Very well. Go to the Black Hills and take a miner’s outfit with you. Become for the time one of my father’s workmen—or, rather, boss of the gang, if you like. Go into that mine, and direct them where they are to run the next level, and follow that level for a month, working with the men and keeping clear of the blasts. After you have penetrated a month in any direction you please, take the ore from the last blast and have it assayed. A mine can’t be salted under those conditions. If that whole mountain is salted with gold, you’d better buy it.”
“No one can gainsay the honesty of that, Miss Fuller; but, to tell you the truth, I dread the two and a half days’ journey from the railway.”
“You don’t need to. I will be your guide.”
“What!” cried John, in amazement.