“Th’ next mornin’ I sneaks home cautious like, and when I comes in range I knows that it’s workin’. Magpie is oratin’ out loud, with nobody to listen except th’ pack burros. Right there I quotes General Sherman, but don’t mention war a-tall. He quits cold when he sees me and fer th’ next few days he surrounds himself with cigarette butts and mystery.
“About this time Peters makes good. He ain’t never been up to see our property—I reckon it’s ’cause we ain’t got no bawthroom—but he gits his rope on one Alfred Myron Cowgill, of Boston, Massachusetts, and sends him up to look it over.
“Alfred knows all about mines—havin’ been educated fer th’ ministry—and he finds out that we’ve got th’ finest piece uh property he ever seen. Copper pyrites shore makes uh hit with people who don’t sabe free gold, and after uh little pow-wow we sells Alfred our prospect hole and good-will fer five thousand dollars cash.
“Alfred announces that he’s got to go back East fer uh while, and he hires me and Magpie to sort a keep people from pesticatin’ around on his property, and probably runnin’ off with some of his nice yellow pyrites. We’re uh heap obliged to Peters, ’cause this money will make possible uh proposition we’ve argued uh heap uh times. Old Sourdough Johnson’s got uh claim about three miles over th’ south fork, which he calls th’ ‘Daylight,’ and me and Magpie have laid awake nights tryin’ to figger out how to separate him from his location.
“Johnson ain’t on th’ lead and never will be where he’s workin’, but one day we’re comin’ across th’ claim and find th’ real lead. Sticks right out in th’ middle of th’ claim and she shore is rich. Uh course we don’t tell anybody—not even Peters. We’re folks that mind our own business thataway.
“But Magpie is too much absorbed with his books to even consider uh minin’ deal. He sits there half th’ night by th’ light of uh candle and prospects them books. He won’t eat a-tall. Jist sits there and peruses them books with uh ‘Cease yer worldly cares’ look on his face. I’m uh heap curious to know what’s in ’em, but won’t show it enough to pick one up. I know I’ll find out all about ’em jist as soon as Magpie gits his system full.
“Somebody tells Tellurium about our sale and he comes down to congratulate us. He’s plumb lame with rheumatism, and after th’ usual words have been spoken he complains on his affliction uh heap.
“‘What you needs, Tellurium,’ remarks Magpie, and I’m pleased to hear his voice once more, ‘is uh touch of psychology.’
“‘Ain’t I got enough?’ snaps Tellurium. ‘Rheumatics and plumbago and—shucks! I kain’t stand much more.’
“‘Mr. Woods, yore powers uh perception are limited to sourdough bread and low-grade ore,’ states Magpie, markin’ th’ place in his book and reachin’ fer another. ‘Yore ideas of science don’t go beyond throwin’ uh diamond hitch and th’ correct way to hold yer knife when yuh eats pie.