es, that's right; I've been watching you
young folks for some time. But I'll sell you this stock of mine cheap."

He unrolled a cloth and flashed the certificates hopefully, but Wiley
did not even look at them.

"Nope," he said, "no Paymaster for me. I wouldn't accent that stock as a
gift."

"But it's rich!" protested Charley, his eyes beginning to get wild.
"It's full of silver and gold. I can feel the electricity when I walk
over the property--there's millions and millions, right there!"

"Oh, there is, eh?" observed Wiley, and, snatching away the
certificates, he ran them rapidly over. "Where'd you get these?" he
asked, and Death Valley blinked, though he looked him straight in the
eyes.

"Why, I--bought 'em," he faltered, "and--the Colonel gave me some.
And----"

"How much do you want for them?" snapped Wiley, and Charley blinked
again.

"Ten cents a share," he answered, and Wiley's stern face hardened.

"You take these back," he said, "and tell her I don't want 'em."

"Who--Virginny?" inquired Death Valley, and then he kicked his leg and
looked around for Heine.

"Now, here," spoke up Wiley, "don't go to slapping that dog. How much do
you want for the bunch?"

"Four hundred dollars!" barked Charley, and stood watchful and expectant
as Wiley sat deep in thought.

"All right," he said, and as he wrote out the check Death Valley
chuckled and leered at Heine.

CHAPTER XII

THE EXPERT

Like the way of an eagle in the air or the way of a man with a maid, the
ways of a mining promoter must be shrouded in mystery and doubt. For
when he wants to buy, no man will sell; and when he wants to sell, no
man will buy; and when he will neither buy nor sell he is generally
suspected of both. Wiley Holman had two fights and a charge of buckshot
to prove that he wanted the Paymaster, and the fact that he had refused
a half interest for nothing to prove that he did not want it. Also he
had sold his tax-title to the property for the sum of one hundred
dollars. What then did it signify when he bought Virginia's despised
stock for four hundred dollars, cash down? The man who could answer that
could explain the way of a man with a maid.

Samuel J. Blount made the claim--and he had his pile to prove it--that
he could think a little closer than most men. A little closer, and a
little farther; but the Paymaster had been his downfall. He had played
the long game to get possession of the mine, only to find he had b