“Well, Tom,” he cried, as the miner slipped down from his horse. “So you made a strike, did you?”
At this Tom opened his eyes pretty widely. “How did you know?” he asked.
“I didn’t know,” my father replied, smiling, “but I guessed. Does it amount to much?”
“Well, no, I can’t say it does,” Tom replied, as he covered his mouth with his hand to hide the grin which would come to the surface. “Yetmore’s been here, I suppose?” he added, inquiringly.
“Yes, he has,” answered my father, surprised in his turn. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I just thought he might have, that’s all.”
“Yes, he was here yesterday afternoon. I sold him my one-third share.”
“Did you?” asked Tom, eagerly. “I hope you got a good price.”
“Yes, I made a very satisfactory bargain. I traded my share for his thirty acres here, so that now, at last, I own the whole of Crawford’s Basin, I’m glad to say.”
“Bully!” cried Tom, clapping his hands together with a report which made his pony shy. “That’s great! Tell us about it, Mr. Crawford.”