“No medical school for me this year,” said Charlie, as he gleefully regarded a four-pound specimen of the pure ore which had fallen out of a fissure at his feet.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to put it off awhile under these circumstances,” replied Jack. “It seems almost as if we were digging gold or silver, doesn’t it, old chum?”
“It’s a standing wonder to me that none of those chaps up at the Gulch ever took it into their heads to investigate this hole in the hill.”
“That’s right,” said Jack, as he shoveled the loosened rock into one of the wheelbarrows. “Sanders tried to sell this claim a hundred times, but nobody wanted it. He was too lazy and shiftless to look into the place himself, and probably too ignorant of minerals to have noticed the composition of the rock here even had he done so.”
“If his partner, who originally staked the ground, was acquainted with the value of his mine, as might strike you as likely, he failed to impart the secret to Sanders.”
“It was a case of sudden death with him, so I fancy he didn’t have time to make any statement.”
“It is a more than a week now since that Chinaman was down here,” went on Charlie, after Jack returned from wheeling a load of the ore outside, “and Clymer and Plunkett haven’t made any hostile demonstrations. I wonder what they’re up to.”
“I’d give something to know. Men of their stamp don’t give up so easily when such a valuable stake as this is in sight.”
“Maybe they’ve heard that we’ve made application for a United States patent on the property and have recognized the uselessness of following the game any further.”
“Possibly,” answered Jack; “but for my part I don’t believe we’ve heard the last of those rascals.”