were any
one to hear him.

"All right," returned the old man nervelessly. "But hit ain't soft
enough for lead--if that's what you're meanin'. I know that much. A lead
mine is a mighty good thing. Worth as much as silver maybe; but this
ain't lead."

A curious tremor had come over Pap Himes's face as he furtively compared
the lump of ore he held in his hand with something which he took from
his pocket. He seemed to come to some sudden resolution.

"No, 'tain't lead--and 'tain't nothin'," he declared contemptuously,
flinging the bit he held back into the handkerchief. "Pros Passmore--ye
old fool--you come down here and work us all up over some truck that
wasn't worth turnin' with a spade! You might as well throw them things
away. Whar in the nation did you git 'em, anyhow?"

Passmore stumbled to his feet. He had eaten nothing for three days. The
fall over the ledge had injured him severely. He was scarcely sane at
the moment.

"Ain't they no 'count?" he asked pitifully. "Why, I made shore they was
silver. Well"--he looked aimlessly about--"I better go find Johnnie,"
and he started down the steps.

"Leave 'em here, Pros, and go in. Mavity'll give you a cup of coffee,"
suggested Pap, in a kinder tone.

The bandanna slipped rattling from the old man's relaxed fingers. The
specimens clattered and rolled on the porch floor. With drooping head he
shambled through the door.

A woman's face disappeared for a moment from the shadowy front-room
window, only to reappear and watch unseen. Mavity was listening in a
sort of horror as she heard her father's tones.

"Git down and pick 'em up--every one! Don't you miss a one. Yo' eyes is
younger'n mine. Hunt 'em up! hunt 'em up," hissed Pap, casting himself
upon the handkerchief and its contents.

"What is it?" questioned Buckheath keenly. "I thort you had some game on
hand." And he hastened to comply. "Air they really silver?"

[Illustration: HE LOOMED ABOVE THEM, WHITE AND SHAKING. "YOU THIEVES,"
HE ROARED. "GIVE ME MY BANDANNER! GIVE ME JOHNNIE'S SILVER MINE!"]

"No--better'n that. They're nickel. The feller that was here from the
North said by the dips and turns of the stratagems an' such-like we was
bound to have nickel in these here mountains somewhar. A nickel mine's
better'n a gold mine--an' these is nickel. I know 'em by the piece o'
nickel ore from the Canady mines that I carry constantly in my pocket.
We'll keep the old fool out of the knowin' of it, and find wha