_this_ the way you do it? Are you just
going to drill one hole?"

"That's the dope," replied Denver, "sink it down ten feet and blow the
whole bank off with one shot. It's as easy as shooting fish."

"Why, you're down half-way, already!" she cried in amazement. "How long
before you'll be done?"

"Oh, half an hour or so," said Denver. "Want to wait and see the blast?
I learned this system on the railroad."

"You'll be through, then, before noon!" she exclaimed. "You're actually
making money."

"Well, a little," admitted Denver, "but, of course, if you're not
satisfied----"

"Oh, I'm satisfied," she protested, "I was only thinking--but then, it's
always that way. There are some people, of course, who can make money
anywhere. How does it feel to be a millionaire?"

"Fine!" grinned Denver, chugging away with his drill, "this is the way
they all got their start. The Armstrong method--and that's where I
shine; I can break more ground than any two men."

"Well, I believe you can," she responded frankly, "and I hope you have a
great success. I didn't like it very well when you called me a quitter,
but I can see now what you meant. Did you ever study music at all?"

Denver stopped his steady churning to glance at her quickly and then he
nodded his head.

"I played the violin, before I went to mining. Had to quit then--it
stiffens up your fingers."

"What a pity!" she cried. "But that explains about your records--I knew
you'd heard good music somewhere."

"Yes, and I'm going to hear more," he answered impressively, "I'm not
going to blow my money. I'm going back to New York, where all those
singers live. The other boys can have the booze."

"Don't you drink at all?" she questioned eagerly. "Don't you even smoke?
Well, I'm going right back and tell father. He told me that all miners
spent their money in drinking--why wouldn't you come over to supper?"

She shot the question at him in the quick way she had, but Denver did
not answer it directly.

"Never mind," he said, "but I will tell you one thing--I'm not a hobo
miner."

"No, I knew you weren't," she responded quickly. "Won't you come over to
supper to-night? I might sing for you," she suggested demurely; but
Denver shook his head.

"Nope," he said, "your old man took me for a hobo and he can't get the
idea out of his head. What did he say when you gave me this job?"

"Well, he didn't object; but I guess, if you don't mind, we'll only do
three or four cl