onder but what he figgers to run the camp, mo' ways than one,
with a few bullies like Roarin' Russell to help him."

"This Casey," said Westlake, "who made the original strike, did he take
out much?"

"As I understand it," replied Sandy, "he hits the porphyry where it's
shaller, or worn off, like you said. An' he finds rich pay stuff right
away, enough to start the camp. Quite a few works on that outcrop an'
then it peters out. Casey sabed a bit about synclines, I reckon, fo' he
kept faith in the camp, on'y he realized it 'ud take a heap of money to
develop, meanin' to dig through the porphyry, I suppose. Now they've
found some mo' of that float ore that the first crowd overlooked. Reckon
that'll peter out too, after a while. But capital may come in on this
second staht. Some eastern folk were lookin' over the place a while
back. Took samples an' Plimsoll got wise to what they amounted to."

"And he hasn't taken up any claims?" said Westlake. "Despite his
gambling investment, I should have thought he would."

"He's got an interest in one or two, I fancy, or thinks he has," said
Sandy dryly.

Westlake halted and took a small steel hammer from his pocket with which
he struck off a fragment of rock protruding from the ground. The
cleavage showed purple. He walked slowly along for some fifty feet,
kicking the soil with his foot, breaking off other samples to which he
put his tongue.

"Taste good?" asked Sam.

"Not bad, if you're looking for mineral. They've got a distinct flavor
all their own, but I wetted them to show the color up more plainly. Here
is the outcrop of a syncline reef. It may carry gold and it may not, but
it's wide enough, it's near the surface and it's as good a place as any.
It dips deeper lower down, but I imagine you'll find it floating out
again on the other side of the valley. Runs like the ribs of a ship,
with the valley the hull. And the ship's rail, the gunwale in the
rim-rock that outlines the auriferous deposit."

Sandy, glancing across the valley to where the engineer pointed, nodded
his head. "Your judgment goes with Casey's," he said. "Right across from
here is where he located his claims, I take it. How about it, Mormon?
Fits the description to a T."

"Sure does," assented Mormon. "Thar's the notched boulder half-way up
the hill, the three-forked dead pine on the ridge. If you locate here,
marm," he said to Miranda, "an' we-all make a strike, we'll be on the
same vein, I reckon."