isn't the ordinary course, to
be sure, but I'm willing to make an exception after seeing you; you are
not the ordinary man. Come out with me to Lebarge; we'll pick up a
lawyer and sign some papers. For your protection and mine, understand.
Then we'll have a look at your claim. Incidentally," his hand coming
suddenly from his pocket with a roll of bills in it, "you can put in
your own expense account, and," with a wink, "you can go as far as you
like. I'm a generous cuss with the company's money when they give me
full swing."

Drennen put out his hand; Madden urbanely stripped off one of the bills
and handed it to him. It was for fifty dollars. Drennen struck a
match, set fire to a corner of the bill and used the lighter to get his
pipe going. Madden, upon his feet in pink-faced wrath, was silenced by
Drennen's voice booming out angrily:

"So you think you can bait me into your lawyer trap with jingling
pennies in a tin cup! Look at that, man; look at that!"

With a sudden gesture he had caught out his canvas bag and had poured
the heavy contents upon the bunk beside him. Madden bent forward
quickly, and a little gasp came into his throat, a new, more vivid tide
of pink into his cheeks as he saw. Drennen shoved fifty dollars in
minted gold to one side.

"There's your change," he said crisply. And when Madden's fingers had
reluctantly dropped the nuggets back to the quilt, "And as for
propositions, I'm the man who's making them. I'm to be left alone to
file on my claims and protect myself first. Then, if you're on hand,
you can look my property over. I'm going to sell; if you're the first
company to take up my offer it might be that I'd sell to you."

"And your proposition?" demanded Madden sharply.

"An assurance that the mine will be worked; ten per cent of the total
number of shares in my name; a further assurance of exemption from
assessment for ten years; and a little bonus."

Madden used his stock-in-trade laugh again. It was well that he made
use of it when he did; else he would not have been able to summon it up
from his paralysed throat. For he put a question and got a brief,
direct answer, and the answer affected him much as a fist in the pit of
the stomach might have done.

"What sort of cash bonus?" was the question.

"One hundred thousand dollars!" was the cool rejoinder.

CHAPTER XI

THE WITCHERY OF YGERNE

Charlie Madden of the Canadian Mining Company wasn't the man to