started off but at the plank across the creek he stopped and cleared
his throat. "Und any time," he began, "dat you'd like to inspect dem
claims----"

"The Champeen--Rough-Riding--Barber!" repeated Old Bunk with gusto, "he
won his title on the race-track at Tucson, before safety razors was
invented."

"Shut up!" snapped the Professor and, crossing the plank with waspish
quickness, he went squattering off down the creek. Yet one ear was
turned back and as Bunker began to speak he stopped in the trail to
listen.

"He took a drunken cowboy up in the saddle before him," went on Bunker
with painful distinctness, "and gave him a close shave while the horse
was bucking, only cutting his throat three times."

"You're a liar!" yelled the Professor and, stamping his foot, he hustled
vengefully off down the trail.

"Say, who is that old boy?" enquired Big Boy curiously, "he might know
where I'd find that gold."

"Who--him?" jeered Bunker, "why, that old stiff wouldn't know a chunk of
gold if he saw it. All he does is to snoop around and watch what
_I'm_ doing, and if he ever thinks that I've picked up a live one
he butts in and tries to underbid me. Now I'll tell you what I'll do,
I'll get you a horse and show you all over the district, and any claim
I've got that you want to go to work on, you can have for five hundred
dollars. Now, that's reasonable, ain't it? And yet, the way things are
going, I'm glad to let you in on it. If you strike something big, here
I've got my store and mine, and plenty of other claims, to boot; and if
there's a rush I stand to make a clean-up on some of my other
properties. So come up to the house and meet my wife and daughter, and
we'll try to make you comfortable. But that old feller----"

"Nope," said Big Boy, "I think I'd rather camp--who lives in those
cave-houses up there?"

He jerked his head at some walled-up caves in the bluff not far across
the creek and Old Bunk scowled reproachfully.

"Oh, nobody," he said, "except the rattle-snakes and pack-rats. Why
don't you come up to the house?"

"I don't need to go to your house," returned Big Boy defiantly. "I've
got money to buy what I need."

"Yes, but come up anyway and meet my wife and daughter. Drusilla is a
musician--she's studied in Boston at the celebrated Conservatory of
Music----"

"I've got me a phonograph," answered Big Boy shortly, "if I can ever get
it over here from Globe."

"Well, go ahead and get it, then," said Bun