“Yes, I have heard about you. I rather expected you over to see me. I assure you, Mr. Gilder,” he went on, “it would afford me great pleasure to show you through the Peacock. She is a fine piece of property, I can tell you; none better. If you’ll walk down this way a little we can see the old prospect shaft where the precious metal of the Peacock was first discovered.”
Vance readily consented, and presently they came to an old, open shaft near the brow of the mountain overlooking the village of Gold Bluff and the valley below.
“Here,” said Rufus Grim, with a wave of his fat hand, “is where I commenced prospecting fifteen years ago. I was one of the pioneers in this mining camp. Sometimes I did not know where the next meal was coming from, but I worked on, day after day; first for wages, and then for an interest in what, at the time, was looked upon as a labor and money losing investment. I stuck to it; the other fellows didn’t. Finally I bought out the other fellows, and if you have heard very much about the history of Gold Bluff and the prosperity of her mines, of course you have heard about me. In fact,” he said, with vulgar braggadocio, “the history of the Peacock and my own are so interwoven that you couldn’t very well hear of one and not know all about the other.”
“Yes,” replied Vance, “I have heard a great deal of you. Mr. Grim, and am delighted to have the pleasure of knowing you personally.”
“Yes, I presume,” said Grim, as he looked away toward the valley that nestled beneath their feet, “I presume you’ve heard a great deal about Rufus Grim that is not true, and precious little to my credit. I have not a doubt but what the busy-bodies of Gold Bluff have told you that old, worn-out story about Steve Gibbons and Hank Casey, and how unjustly I treated them; but I can tell you,” he continued with warmth, “there’s not a word of truth in all that you may have heard. No, sir, I have climbed the ladder step by step and built up my own fortune, and whatever I am to-day, I have nobody to thank but myself.”
“I assure you,” said Vance, “I have heard nothing particularly to your discredit. In fact, I have heard next to nothing at all, except that you were the owner of the Peacock, and that it is a paying property.”
Rufus Grim looked at Vance at first as if he doubted him, and then expressed his surprise that no one had told him what a mean man he was. “If you get acquainted with that young scoundrel, Boast, he’ll tell you quick enough—a miserable story; how I cheated Casey and Gibbons out of their share of the mine; but I say it’s false,” he continued, as he brought his fat hands down together, “not a word of truth in any of their statements. No, sir. You see,” he went on, turning to the old prospect shaft, “I have put a wall around this so that it may be preserved. It gratifies me to come here occasionally and think over the hard times of my prospecting life and the change that has come. It came, sir, because I made it come. Yonder is my home,” said he, waving his hand toward an elegant residence located in the suburbs of the village, with beautiful grounds about it. “If there is any better in the Fish River mining district, I don’t know it.”
"You’re home,” said Vance, “is certainly a lovely looking place.”
“You are at liberty,” said Grim “to come and see me whenever you desire. I can’t promise you more than this, that you will be welcome.” Grim made this last remark as if he was bestowing a great favor upon a stranger within the gates of Gold Bluff; indeed, one might have imagined him Lord Mayor of some municipality granting the freedom of the city to some favored guest.
Vance thanked him for the invitation. With a stately bow to Vance, Grim turned and walked toward the works on the Peacock, and Vance returned to the hotel refreshed from his walk, and interested in the fragments of the story he had heard from the owner of the Peacock.