o, that I shouldn't be surprised if the lost gold were in
the very canon where we camped? I claim precedence of divination,
auto-suggestion, and right of eminent domain. I shall not waive my
prerogative."

"I never owned one," said Overland. "But afore I'll let you come any
style over me, I'll have one made with a silk linin' and di'monds in the
buttons, jest as soon as the claim gets to payin' good. Say, pardner,
it's _free_ gold, and _coarse_. I wisht Collie was here--the little
cuss."

"Collie?"

"Uhuh. The kid I was tellin' you about, that I adopted back in
Albuquerque. He's got a share in this here deal, by rights. He invested
his eight rollers and four bits in the chances of my findin' the stuff.
It was all the coin he had at the time. You see, I was campin' up on the
Moonstone for a change of air, and Collie and me had a meetin' of the
board of dissectors. The board votes unanimous to invest the paid-in
capital in a suit of new jeans for the president, which was me. I got
'em on now. You see, I had to be dollied up to look the part so I could
catch a come-on and get me grubstake."

"I see," said Winthrop, his gray eyes twinkling. "And I was the
come-on?"

"Well," said Overland, scratching his head, "mebby you _was_, but you
ain't no more. If she pans out anything like I expect, you'll be
standin' up so clost to bein' rich that if she was a bronc' you'd get
kicked sure."

They rested for a few minutes, both gazing down on the evening desert.
The reflected light, strong and clear, drew abrupt, keen-edged contrasts
between the black, triangular shadows of the peaks and the gray of the
range. Something elusive, awesome, unreal was in the air about them. The
rugged mountain-side with its chaos of riven boulders, its forest of
splintered rocky spires, silver cold in the twilight, its impassive bulk
looming so large, yet a mere segment in the circling range, was as a
day-dream of some ancient Valhalla, clothed in the mystic glory of
ever-changing light, and crowned with slumbering clouds.

Winthrop sighed as he again faced the range. Overland heard and smiled.
"You said it all," he muttered. "You said it all then."

"You're something of a poet, aren't you?" queried Winthrop.

"You bet! I'm some artist, too. A lady I was figurin' on acceptin' a
invite to dinner with, once,--one of them rich kind that always wants to
get their money's worth out of anything they do for a poor
guy,--happened to come out on the b