ce.

Three men were clambering a trifle laboriously over the broken rocks at
the foot of the dike, swearing a little at their unstable footing, but
all apparently much in earnest in their conversation. Even as
Bennington looked they came to a halt, and then sank down each on a
convenient rock, talking interestedly. One was Old Mizzou, one was the
man Arthur, the third was a stranger whom Bennington had never seen.

The latter had hardly the air of the country.

He was a dapper little man dressed in a dark gray bob-tailed cutaway,
and a brown derby hat, which was pushed far back on his head. His face,
however, was keen and alert and brown, all of which characteristics
indicated an active Western life at no very remote day. The words which
had so powerfully arrested Bennington de Laney's attention were
delivered by Old Mizzou to this stranger.

"Thar!" the old man had said, "ain't that Crazy Hoss Lode 'bout as
good-lookin' a lead as they make 'em?"

"So, so; so, so;" replied the man in the derby in a high voice. "Your
vein is a fissure vein all right enough, and you've got a good wide
lead. If it holds up in quality, I don't know but what you're right."

"I shows you them assays of McPherson's, don't I?" argued Mizzou, "an'
any quartz in this kentry that assays twenty-four dollars ain't no ways
cheap."

This speech was so significantly in line with Bennington's surmise that
he caught his breath and drew back cautiously out of sight, but still
in such a position that he could hear plainly every word uttered by the
group below. The girl was watching him with bright, interested eyes.

"Listen carefully!" he whispered, bringing his mouth close to her ear.
"I think there's some sort of plot here."

She nodded ready comprehension, and they settled themselves to hear the
following conversation:

"I saw the assay," replied the stranger's voice to Mizzou's last
statement, "but who's this McPherson? How do I know the assays are all
right?"

"Why, he's that thar professer at th' School of Mines," expostulated
Mizzou.

"Oh, yes!" cried the stranger, as though suddenly enlightened. "If
those are his assays, they're all right. Let's see them again."

There followed a rustling of papers.

"Well, I've looked over your layout," went on the stranger after a
moment, "and pretty thoroughly in the last few days. I know what you've
got here. Now what's your proposition?"

There was a pause.

"I knows you a good while, Slay