or eight times as much in Vancouver
as you would if you let go now."

One of the men who had spoken broke in again.

"Boys," he said, "when Saunders makes a proposition of that kind it's
because he sees how he's going to get something out of it. But for all
that, I guess it's sound advice he's giving you."

There was a little consultation among the men, and then one of them
asked a question that evidently met with the favor of his companions.

"How are we going to live in the meanwhile?"

"That's quite easy," said the storekeeper, with a smile. "I'll supply
you with pork and flour, drills and giant-powder, at bed-rock figure,
while you get in your assessment work, and while you live on your
ranches afterward until you make a deal. All I ask is that you won't
sell until the Grenfell's floated, and that you'll give us first call
then. It's a cold fact that if I had the money I'd buy you all up
now."

There was truth in his last assurance, which was at the same time a
highly diplomatic one, for it occurred to most of the audience that if
there was anything to be made by waiting they might as well have it as
anybody else; and after a further consultation they gave him their
promise. Then they trooped away to prepare their dinner, and Saunders
turned to Devine with a contented smile.

"I guess," he said, "we've headed those company men right off this
lode, and, what's most as much to the purpose, the boys will have to
trade with me if anybody comes up and starts another store. Just now
I'd feel quite happy if I knew how Jim was running things."

He was soon to learn, for he had scarcely risen from a meal of salt
pork, somewhat blackened in the frying-pan, and grindstone bread
indifferently baked by Devine, when Jim and several strangers plodded
into camp. He was very ragged, and apparently very weary, but he
displayed no diffidence in accounting for his presence.

"It was kind of lonesome down there, and I figured I'd come along," he
said.

Saunders gazed at him for a moment in mute indignation before his
feelings found relief in words.

"And you raking in money by the shovelful!" he gasped.

"No," said Jim, decisively, "I wasn't quite doing that. Anyway, it was
your money. I got only a share of it; and you didn't figure I'd stay
back there weighing out flour and sugar when there was a gold strike
on?"

Saunders contrived to master his anger, and merely made a little
gesture of resignation. He was acquainted