“Why, Major Hampton, I didn’t know you were one of ‘em—one of us,” and he finished with a leer and a laugh. “Bet I can tell what mine it came from,” he went on as he leisurely untied the ore sacks.
“I will remain right here,” replied Major Hampton firmly, without yielding to the assayer’s offensive hilarity, “until you have my samples assayed and make me an offer.”
By this time the sack of rock had been emptied into an ore pan and the astonishment depicted on the assayer’s countenance would have beggared description. The sight of the ore staggered him into silence. Other work was pushed hurriedly aside and before very long the fire test was in process of being made. When finally finished the “button” weighed at the rate of $114.67 per pound, and the assayer, still half bewildered, handed over a check for almost eleven hundred dollars.
“I say,” he almost shouted, “I say, Major Hampton, where in hell did that ore come from? Surely not from any of the producing mines about here?”
“It seems to be a producer, all right,” replied the Major, as he folded the check and placed it in his pocketbook.
CHAPTER X.—THE FAIR RIDER OF THE RANGE
WHEN Buell Hampton left the assayer’s office he felt a chilliness in the air that caused him to cast his eyes upwards. There had been bright sunshine early that morning, but now the whole sky was overcast with a dull monotonous gray pall. Not a breath of wind was stirring; there was just a cold stillness in the air that told its own tale to those experienced in the weather signs of the mountains.
“Snow,” muttered the Major, emphatically. “It has been long in coming this winter, but we’ll have a big fall by night.”