Phil failed to respond.
“But why Lost Durkin, Mr. Dalton?”
“It’s like this: Durkin and another guy were the discoverers of this ere mine. It panned out,––well!––nobody knowed for sure certain how it panned out; only Durkin and his pal always had lots of nuggets and dust. Durkin’s pal went away and Durkin worked it all by hisself. They say he struck it rich in a vein and went batty over it. Anyway, he acted queer for a time. One day his hat was found in the tunnel, and no sign of Durkin from that day to this.
“Durkin’s pal, Don Flannigan, without ever comin’ back, sold out the mine to Jem Grierson. Grierson sold to me. It ain’t been worked to speak of since Durkin tried it out. The gold might be lyin’ there just for the pickin’ up.”
“Oh, say, Rattlesnake!––come off,” interposed Phil.
“Why, Hannington,––every hobo that has come to this Valley is open to have a go at it any old time he likes.”
“Not on your tin tacks! I hold the mining rights to it, and nobody else. Just let somebody try it on!” put in Dalton.
“But there must be some gold in it, Phil!” remarked Hannington.
“Sure,––about four dollars a day hard working!”
“By jove!––if there’s that, there might be more, you know.”