watch him and get hold of the copper claim, of course."

"Why don't you leave him in jail and hunt for the claim till you find
it?" demanded lawyer Mitchell, willing to defer his triumph until the
moment when it should be most effective.

"Find it? Yes; we might find it in a million years, maybe, or we might
find it in a day. Pima County alone is one fourth the size of the State
of New York. And the claim may be in Yuma County, Maricopa, or Pinal--or
even in Old Mexico, for all we know. We feel like it was somewhere south
of here; but that's only a hunch. It might as well be north or west. And
you don't know this desert country. It's simply hell! To go out there
hunting for anything you happen to find--that's plenty bad enough. But
to go out at random, hunting for one particular ledge of rock, when you
don't know where it is or what it looks like--that is not to be thought
of. Too much like dipping up the Atlantic Ocean with a fountain pen to
suit me!"

"Then, by your own showing," rejoined Mitchell triumphantly, "I am not
only entitled to a share of the mine, but I am fairly deserving of the
biggest share. I met this ignorant mountaineer, of whom you stand in such
awe, took his measure, and won his confidence. What you failed to do by
risk, with numbers on your side, what you shrink from attempting by labor
and patience, I have accomplished by an hour's diplomacy. Johnson has
given me full directions for finding the mine--and a map."

"What? Johnson would never do that in a thousand years!"

"It is as I say. See for yourself." Mitchell displayed the document
proudly.

Zurich took one look at that amazing map; then his feelings overcame him;
he laid his head on the table and wept.

Painful explanation ensued; comparison with an authentic map carried
conviction to Mitchell's whirling mind.

"And you thought you could take Johnson's measure?" said Zurich in
conclusion. "Man, he played with you. It is by no means certain that
Johnson will like it in jail. If he comes back here, and finds that you
have not been near your cousin, he may grow suspicious. And if he ever
gets after you, the Lord have mercy on your soul! Well, there comes the
stage. I must go and distribute the mail. Give me this map of yours; I
must have it framed. I wouldn't take a fortune for it. Tinhorn Mountain!
Dear, oh, dear!"

He came back a little later in a less mirthful mood. Had not the
crestfallen Mitchell been thoroughly engrossed with h