tively, "me and Bully Presby are friends.
He likes me for standin' up for my own, and told me so to-day. He
ain't got over that feller Wolff yet. Says he could have killed him
when he found out Wolff had poisoned the water and rolled the bowlder
into the shaft to pen us in. I reckon Wolff tried to blackmail him
about what he knew, but the Bully didn't approve none of the other
things. That ain't his way of fightin'. You can bet on that! He
drifted over and got the green lead in the Cross, when others had
given it up and squandered money. That shows he was a real miner. We
come along, and--well--all he's done is just to help us find it, and
then hand over the proceeds, all in the family, as I take it. Nobody's
loser. The families gets tangled up, and instead of there bein' two
there's just one. The Rattler and the Croix d'Or threatens to be made
into one mine, and the two plants consolidated to make it more
economical. The green lead's the best ledge in the Blue's, and 'most
everybody seems to be gettin' along pretty well. That ain't luck. It's
God Almighty arrangin' things for the best."

He sat for a moment, and gave a long sigh, as if there were something
else in his mind that had not been uttered. Dick lifted his eyes, and
looked at him affectionately, and then whispered into the ear close by
his shoulder: "Shall I tell him now?"

"Do!" Joan said, drawing away from him, and looking expectantly at the
giant.

Dick fumbled in his pocket with a look of sober enjoyment.

"Oh, by the way, Bill," he said, "I got a letter from Sloan a few days
ago. Here it is. Read it."

The latter took it, and frowning as he opened it, held it up to catch
the light.

"Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "Gives the Croix d'Or to you. Says he
wants you to have it, because you're the one that made good on it, and
he don't need the money! That the deeds are on the way by registered
mail, and all he asks is a small bar from the first clean-up!"

He folded the letter, and held it in his hands, looking thoughtfully
off into the distance for a time while he absorbed the news.

"Why, Dick," he said, "you're a rich man! Richer'n I ever expected
you'd be; but I'm a selfish old feller, after all! It seems to me as
if we ain't never goin' to be the same again, as we uster be when all
we had was a sack of flour and a side of bacon, and the whole
North-west to prospect. It seems as if somethin' mighty dear has
gone."

Dick got up and stood before him