t of the gold-seekers, and Bidwell's rude
pole barrier was polished by the nervous touch of greedy palms.

About ten o'clock a quiet man in a gray suit of clothes asked Bidwell if
he wanted to sell. Bidwell said, "No," short and curt, but Maggie asked,
with a smile, "How much?"

"Enough to make you comfortable for life. If it runs as well as this
sample I'll chance fifty thousand dollars on it."

Maggie snorted. "Fifty thousand! Why, I tuk twoice that to the mill last
night."

"Let me get in and examine the mine a little closer. I may be able to
raise my bid."

"Not till ye make it wan hundred thousand may you even have a luk at
it," she replied.

Other agents came--some confidential, others coldly critical, but all
equally unsuccessful. The two "idiots" could not see why they should
turn over the gold which lay there in sight to a syndicate. It was
theirs by every right, and though the offers went far beyond their
conception they refused to consider them.

All day axes resounded in the firs, and picks were busy in the gullies.
Camp goods, provisions, and bedding streamed by on trains of mules, and
by nightfall a city was in its initial stages--tent stores, open-air
saloons, eating-booths, and canvas hotels. A few of the swarming
incomers were skeptical of the find, but the larger number were
hilariously boastful of their locations, and around their evening
camp-fires groups gathered to exult over their potentialities.

The sun had set, but the western slope of the hill was still brilliant
with light as Bidwell's messenger with his sumpter horse piled high
with bales of ore-sacks came round the clump of firs at the corner of
Bidwell's claim. He was followed by a tall man who rode with a tired
droop and nervous clutching at the rein.

Bidwell stared and exclaimed, "May I be shot if the preachers aren't
takin' a hand in the rush!"

The widow looked unwontedly rosy as she conclusively said, "I sent for
him, man dear!"

"You did? What for?"

The widow was close enough now to put her hand in the crook of his
elbow. "To make us wan, Sherm darlin'. There's no time like the
prisent."

Bidwell tugged at his ragged beard. "I wish I had time to slick up a
bit."

"There'll be plinty of time for that afterward," she said. "Go welcome
the minister."

In the presence of old Angus Craig and young Johnson they were married,
and when the minister gave Mrs. Bidwell a rousing smack she wiped her
lips with the back of