hem fellers ain't got
on yet, that's certain," but he looked as if he'd swallowed a stroke of
lightning the wrong way. Never see a man--particular a man with Aggy's
nerve--look so much like two cents on the dollar. I didn't have to be
cautious in my approach; our friends were too busy to notice me.

"What the devil's loose, Ag?" says I.

"Oh, nothing!" says he. "Nothing much! They're taking it out by the
hatful, that's all. Look!"

I looked, and sure enough! There was the pan with a small-sized
shovelful of yaller-boys in it--pieces that would weigh up to $10 some
of them. I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Where'd they get it?" says I.

"Out of the claim," says Aggy.

I nearly fell dead. "Out of the claim!" I yelled in a whisper. "Go
on! Your whiskers are growing in!"

"Straight goods," says Ag, "and I had to stand here and see them do it!
The Golden Queen is all my fancy painted her. The second pass that
ice-pick-faced mut made he brought up a chunk as big as a biscuit. 'Is
that gold?' says he. 'Oh, yes!' says I. 'That's gold!' The truth
come out of me before I thought--it knocked me to see that chunk.
First time I ever made such a break--well--well. Why didn't it occur
to me to try the taste of that piece of ground before I put in my
flavouring? I was so d--d sure there wasn't $13 worth of metal in the
whole twenty acres! Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! To sprinkle a pocket that's
near half gold with a little old pinch of dust, is one of them
ridiculous and extravagant excesses my friend Shakespeare mentions! If
there was a lily around here, I'd paint it, so's to go the whole hog."

"What in the name of all the Mormon gods are we going to do?" says I.

"Leave me think," he answers. And again he pulls his whiskers and
whistles through his teeth.

There came a horrible yell from the hole. Daggett held up what seemed
like a yaller potato. "Hooray!" says he. "Ain't that a humming bird?"

"You want to think quick," says I. "I feel something like murder
rising in my veins."

"By gosh!" says Ag, snapping his fingers. "I've got her! Come to, you
son-of-a-gun. Come to!"

"How's that?" I asked, not just tumbling exactly.

"Come to!" says Ag. "Regain your scattered intelligence! How in
blazes can I sell, then, without your consent?"

"Right you are! I'm off!" says I. And with that I cut loose.

"Help!" howls Aggy; "help!"

The two fellers were too busy to want to stop, but after I sent a bra