“Hard telling. The blamed fool didn’t bother to save anything but big nuggets. No telling how much fine stuff there is.”
Red Leonard stuck his head out of the Ideal Cafe and called:
“Oh, Dog.”
Dog went over, Ducky trailing. Red Leonard handed Dog an envelope, addressed in a fair hand to Mr. Percival John Bigelow, kindness of restaurant man.
“That sissy kid left it with me, to hand to you after he’d gone.”
Dog tore open the letter, Ducky crowding for a look. They read:
Dear Uncle:
I had to have three hundred dollars. At first, I thought there really was gold in the creek, although it seemed strange that I found a nugget or more in the first shovelful and nothing after that all day. Of course, when I found that stick-pin nugget, with solder on the back of it, then I knew. So I broke up the nugget chain you gave me when I was a baby, and found nuggets for myself, just as easy. I had to have three hundred dollars.
Percival.
“What does he say?” yelled Red Leonard from the doorway.
Dog tore the letter, viciously, into very small pieces and heaved them into the wind. Then he steadied himself for an appropriate reply to Red Leonard.
“He says that he thanks Mr. Spence and me for the nice entertainment we provided for him during his stay in Montana, and when he gets back to New York, he’s going to tell all the folks there what a wonderful State Montana is.”