"Sure enough!" laughed Chub; "that's old Baldy himself. When we come into our money, we'll put Baldy in a gold barn and let him stuff his old hide with patent breakfast-food."
"Maybe Baldy'll like that," laughed Matt, "and maybe he won't."
"Anyhow," grinned Chub, "he looks like he could stand a little stuffing with just plain hay. He's helped dad through the hills for the last five years—the two of them have gone thirsty and hungry together, and knocked into more hardships and out of them again than anybody'll ever know. But right here's where they win. Look at that 'blow-out,' will you, Matt?"
By "blow-out," Chub meant a lot of white quartz that was littering the ground in every direction. He picked up a piece and held it under Matt's eyes. The stone was flecked with little yellow grains.
"Gold!" cried Chub; "the rock's just full of it. Say, it's a wonder this claim's laid here as long as it has. I'll bet that dozens of prospectors have been around it—but it was dad that found 'er! Whoop-ee!"
Chub jerked off his cap suddenly and hurled it into the air; then, in the excess of his joy, he caught hold of Matt and whirled him around and around in the wildest kind of a dance.
But there were some things about the situation which Matt couldn't understand. He hated to throw any cold water on Chub's effusive spirits, and yet he knew that they ought to probe to the bottom of the situation.
"Where's your father, Chub?" Matt inquired, as his chum let loose of him.
"Why, he must have set out for Phœnix to file the duplicate location notice," replied Chub, sitting down on the side of the rock pile. "You see, Matt, that letter was five days gettin' to us. Hawley had it for a day, and the Mexican must have had it longer than he admitted, or else dad was wrong in his dates when he wrote it. I guess dad got tired waiting for me to come out, and so he began to scratch gravel for Phœnix on his own hook."