“It’s too bad,” Jack added. “Don’t you think so, Bill?” as Bill came up. “What with us finding that the Dead Hope vein has been struck again, and they’ve got their gold dust back and our own mine has a vein of ore as thick as your arm, about two feet under the rock—ain’t it too bad we can’t sell shares to our friends?”
“Sell, yes! But not give!” said Tom.
“Well,” said Jack, “how about making me an offer. If you was to want the half-interest, say, I might consider taking that—let me see—yes! That cigar lighter that saved you in the Chucunaque country. You don’t smoke. It’s no good to you.”
“It’s a keepsake,” Tom said—and then started—“Golly! It isn’t even mine to keep. I took it from Bill.”
“I now and here make you a present of it!” said Bill magnanimously, “and you keep it, too. Jack may own that mine, but he’s traded half to me for my ranch, and he don’t know which half he’s traded, so I guess nobody owns the other half—so, why not claim it from him!”
“Would that be right?” asked Margery, her eyes big and interested.
“Little sister,” said Bill kindly, “for lads like Tom, and Cliff, and Nicky—and a girl like you!—anything a decent fellow can do is—right!”
“Thanks,” said Nicky.
“Same here,” said Cliff.
Margery wasn’t ashamed to hug Bill.