miner, "that this whole thing was my
own."

Tim nodded his head.

"I was aware of the same before ye mentioned it. Ye paid all our
ixpenses like a gintleman, and we're entitled to fair wages for hilping
and no more."

The generous disavowal of all claim to a share in the rich find touched
Jeff, who hastened to say:

"Some folks might think that way, but I don't. It was a speculation on
my part. It didn't cost much to get us to the Klondike, and so that
don't count. I have delivered to the mint all the gold we brought back,
and have been paid one hundred and twenty thousand dollars for it. You
know what was done by the two men that visited us at the diggings?"

"The byes and mesilf had the idea that they bought out your claim."

"That's it. I was anxious to get out of the country before the summer
fairly set in and the mosquitoes ate us up alive. From the way the dirt
panned out, we should have been millionaires in a few weeks, but we had
enough. There ain't many men as know when they have enough," was the
philosophical observation of Jeff. "I do, so I sold my claim for a
hundred and eighty thousand dollars. As I figure out, that makes the
total three hundred thousand dollars, which, divided among us four,
gives each seventy-five thousand dollars. How does that strike you,
Tim?"

"It almost knocks me off my chair, if you mean it."

"The boys being under age, I have turned over their shares to their
parents; and do you know," added Jeff, with an expression of disgust,
"they both fixed things so as to go to college? You wouldn't believe
it, but it's the fact. Howsumever, it's their business, and I ain't
saying anything. Say, Tim, you hain't any idea of going to college?"
asked Jeff, looking across at his friend with a startled expression.

[Illustration: "SAY, TIM, YOU HAIN'T ANY IDEA OF GOING TO COLLEGE,
HAVE YOU?"]

"I won't unless ye will go wid me. How does that strike ye?"

Jeff's shoulders bobbed up and down with silent laughter, and
immediately he became serious again.

"As soon as you sign this paper, Tim, I shall give you a certified
check for seventy-five thousand dollars on the Bank of Californy. Are
you ready to sign?"

"I'll sign me own death warrant for that trifle," replied Tim, his rosy
face aglow, as he caught up the pen.

"Read it first."

His friend read:

"I, Timothy McCabe, hereby pledge my sacred honor not to taste a drop
of malt or spirituous liquor, even on the advice of a phy