“If you think so, then the sooner we look into it and find out whether it is or not, the better I’ll be pleased. Before I plank up the dust I want to know what I’m investing in.”
“That’s all right,” returned Clymer. “But you didn’t expect to pick up a full-grown mine all in working order, with machinery on the ground, for a paltry two or three hundred dollars, did you?”
“I don’t say that I did,” asserted Plunkett; “but I ain’t goin’ to buy a hole in the ground without I’ve some idea of what’s behind it. If you can show me real copper in there, that’ll be proof the man’s story wasn’t all moonshine. Then we’ll go and hunt up this fellow Sanders and make it an object for him to forget he ever gave an option to somebody else, and buy him out.”
“Come along, then. We’ve got torches which, when lighted, will show us the way through the darkness.”
The two schemers walked over to the opening in the rock and entered the crevice.
They were out of sight for perhaps an hour, and when they emerged into the light of day once more it was apparent their quest had been satisfactory, for their eyes burned with an eager glow.
“I hope you’re satisfied,” said Otis Clymer, triumphantly.
“Satisfied!” exclaimed Plunkett. “Well, I guess I am—more’n satisfied. That there mine is a mint for us two. I’m with you hand and glove from this minute, but it must be halves—share and share alike, do you understand?”
“But you agreed to take a third in the first place,” protested Clymer, half angrily. “The risk of getting those papers has all been mine. I ought to have the larger share.”
“Can’t help that,” replied Plunkett, doggedly. “You can’t do nothing without money, and I’ve got the dust. I’ve made up my mind to be an equal partner, and so halves it’s got to be.”