"More than that, Steve. It's gold coin—twenty-dollar gold pieces. Stow away as many of those little bags as you can before any Apaches come. It's our plunder."
"They're coming. But how is it ours?"
He was picking up several of the little bags, and putting them inside his hunting-shirt when he asked that question.
"Because we're on this war-path, and have found it. The Apaches would rather have ponies; but they may take what we leave, if they want it."
"Doesn't it belong to those miners? Won't they come for it?"
"They would not find it if they did come, but they never will. They'll trust the Apaches and Lipans too well for that. Besides, it never was theirs. They stole every cent of it."
"Do you suppose we can ever find the owners?"
"Never. It would be an utter impossibility. What we are picking up is ours, by all the laws of the mountains and all the rules of Indian war."
They did not open a single one of the little buckskin bags, but Murray threw down one that would not "chink" and picked up another.
"Coin is better than dust or nuggets, Steve, and we must not take it all. Only what we can stow away quickly. It's just what we are going to need. It will pay the expenses of your trip to the settlements, and take care of you after you get there."